As one, who having climb'd the livelong day,
Not unaccompanied by friendly steps,
From the rock-girdled marge of gay Lucerne
By Altorf's memorable walls, and glens
Through which the headlong Reuss rushes amain,
Scarce under skyey Hospenthal one hour
Sojourning, stands at last with weary feet
Upon the summit of Saint Gotthard's wilds,
And sees the intricate ravines, that slope
Down to the sunny vales of Italy,
And smiles to see them, yet before we wends
Along the young Ticino's purling brook,
Pauses, and with inquisitive retrospect
Speaks with the toilworm comrade by his side
Of defiles they have pass'd to right and left,
And chasms, and rainbow-haunted cataracts,
And vistas through the dawning hills, the which
Their onward track forbade their steps explore; -
So paused Oriel, my guardian, here. And long
We spake of sacred stories, such as oft
In pilgrim days I loved to meditate,
Now by his transitory words illumed
With unsuspected glory: of Jacob's dream
Scaling the heavens, and built of things that are;
Of those funereal rites on Pisgah's brow,
When Michael in Jehovah's name rebuked
The daring prince of hell; of that Arch-fiend
Repairing with the other sons of God
To heaven's high festivals, ere leave obtain'd
To breathe disaster and eclipse of joy
Upon the patriarch in the land of Uz;
Of David moved by him in evil hour
To count the tribes of Israel; of the strife
On Carmel's rocky sides, when Baalim,
By bloody supplications importuned,
Raved all in vain to answer; of the car,
That fiery car by fiery chargers drawn,
Which stooping o'er the Jordan's wilderness
Wafted Elijah to the rest of God;
Of that false emissary, who assumed
To lure forth Ahab to the field of doom;
Of Joshua, son of Josedech, withstood
By Satan, but upheld by Satan's Lord; -
Of these and other marvels, when the veil
Was rent betwixt the things unseen and seen,
Shedding bright beams of glory on the earth
What time the clouds were darkest, for a while
We communed, till my heart afire with hope
Besought him to resume where last he left,
Upon the extreme verge of better days,
Time's awful drama, which he thus vouchsafed:

'One night, when night was listening for the dawn,
Aloof upon the brow of Olivet
I gazed on sleeping Salem. In the East
Flush'd a faint streak of pearl: the distant hills
Slumber'd in shadow, and the vales in mist:
When haply prompted by the hour, or thoughts
Of loftier vigilance, for many signs
In heaven and earth as in the middle air
Of late had quicken'd us to keener guard,
Musing I utter'd half unconsciously
The prophet's words, 'Watchman, what of the night?'

'Sudden I heard the rush of angel wings,
And Gabriel stood beside me, saying, 'Brother,
The morning cometh, and the night: beyond
All is unclouded everlasting day.
This very hour the Sun of Righteousness
Peers o'er the horizon. Virgin-born to-night
Within the crowded gates of Bethlehem
A Babe, who owns no human sire, is lying
Upon His mother's bosom. It was mine,
Some space agone, to tell that lowly maid
Of David sprung, in David's house betrothed,
The awful secret of Messiah's birth,
The advent of the Holy Quickening Spirit,
The overshadowing Power of the Most High,
Herself the chosen vessel; and to watch
The deepening blush of childlike innocence,
As slowly to herself she realized
The bliss immense vouchsafed her, not unmix'd
With bitter anguish from a faithless world.
It has been mine to guard her low estate,
As month by month within her virgin womb
She bore the promise of her Lord. Nor now,
Albeit the mystery of mysteries,
For which eternity has waited, dawns,
Is the veil rent in twain. The tree of life
Must strike its roots in secret in the earth:
The well-spring gush from hidden depths. Not all
Heaven's radiant ministries, but spirits elect
As yet are advertised, the Son of God
Incarnate tabernacles among men:
Far less the powers of darkness, now elate,
Finding the rigid interdict relax'd,
Or rather with less pains transgress'd, that fenced
The bodies of their slaves from violence.
Demons possess demoniacs: thou hast seen
Their victims toss'd and driven by fiends malign
To worse than frenzy: and on this intent
For the most part the myriads of the damn'd
Heed not this fateful hour. Far otherwise
Their leader and his fallen thrones are fill'd
With torment and remorseless fear, and scheme
Their uttermost to thwart Eternal Love:
Which work to counterwork is ours. But now
Come, brother, let us hasten where the tryst
Of friends awaits us on the grassy slopes
Of Bethlehem, and, as is meet, announce
Messiah's humble birth to humble men.
The shepherds, who there hold nocturnal watch.'

'So swifter than the eagle's flight we flew
Over the shadowy landscape, and there found,
And keeping by command that region free
From footstep or from wing unblest. Forthwith
Gabriel diffused unwonted lustre round,
And in the glory of that light appear'd,
Though softening all the terrors of his brow,
Not less than heaven's elect ambassador,
Heralding tidings of eternal joy; -
Which, even as he utter'd, all the band
Of angels, suddenly apparent, caught
And set to music of seraphic harps,
Pure crystal symphonies of joy and love,
Until the waves of hallelujah moved
The orient clouds, and gathering strength rang out
Among the golden stars, and travelling on
Held for a space the tongues of cherubim
Mute for delight before the throne of God.

'Soon from that throne, through clouds of glory stealing,
The whispers of the Spirit of God were heard;
And Suriel moving at that still small voice
Took of the lamps, that ever blaze beside
The alter of celestial frankincense,
Symbols of love enkindling endless praise,
And from that lucid sphere descending sloped
His course to earth, where on the nightly plain
Chaldea's watchers read the starry heavens;
And holding in his hand that torch, which seem'd
As if a planet brighter than its peers
Had wander'd from its path, viewless himself,
Allured their steps, whose minds were taught of God,
Until their weary pilgrimage at last
Was ended with unutterable joy
Before the Royal Babe of Bethlehem.

'Why should I tell thee what thou know'st? His flight
To Egypt's house of bondage; and return
'Neath angel wings to lowly Nazareth?
No palace home was His. No menials nursed
His childhood. Mary kept her secret close,
Or only breathed thereof in prayer to God,
Yet watch'd her gentle meditative Child,
Unlike yet His brethren (for they err
Who deem her firstborn Son her only one),
With love beyond a mother's. Holiness
Breathed in His meek aspect. No passion wrought
To fret His bosom. Never a word of guile
Sullied His lips. Pure, harmless, undefiled,
He loved of all things best to be alone,
And oft would hie Him to the fields, and there
Ponder and pray. And, when the Sabbath came,
Such gleams of glory in the synagogue
Play'd on His blessed countenance, as if
Conversing with the Invisible, mouth to mouth,
That I have seen His virgin mother's eyes
Fix'd on Him, till they flow'd with tears of joy.
But chiefly, when the yearly festivals
Drew them to Zion, a mysterious awe,
A child's most tender awe, the awe of love,
Seem'd to dilate His swelling breast, the while
He trod, as One at home, His Father's courts.

'Years pass'd; and still He grew in grace: yet still
His brethren knew Him not. His perfect love
Disturb'd them; and they oftener chose consort
With those, whose goodness was not all unstain'd.
They quail'd before His gentleness. But when
Their father sank beneath the weight of years,
As sinks the sun behind the autumn hills,
Then in that darken'd home the Light of Light
Diffused its soft radiance. He it was,
Who bound up with the tenderest balms of love
His mother's bleeding heart; who mix'd His tears
With those that chased adown His sisters' cheeks,
Till sorrow's self grew calm; and He, who first
Summon'd His brethren to the needful toil,
Toil shared by Him, their common heritage.
And when He spake with such unfaltering faith
Of that celestial Paradise, wherein
Their father now was walking, even as One
Familiar with its living founts and fruits,
The bitterness of grief was gone, and death's
Dark portal was the golden gate of life.

'But if they saw and marvell'd, how with us
Who knew Him what He was, the Son of God?
Brother, our hearts were bow'd within us. Pride,
That deadliest upas, that sought cast its shade
Over angelic natures though elect,
Wither'd before that wondrous spectacle.
It was not only grace we saw, but grace
That fail'd not in a world of selfishness;
Nor only light, but light in poisonous air
Miraculously burning, self-sustain'd;
Nor faith alone, but faith, emptying itself,
Itself to strengthen in Another's might;
Self-limited Omnipotence, that deign'd,
Weak even as man is weak, to lean on God.
Messiah praying: - brother, I have watch'd
His lips moving, until my very soul
Clave to Him plead for those He came to save,
Until of all hard tasks the hardest seem'd
Not to go trumpet-tongued, and summon all
To fall and worship at His sacred feet.

'But now His time was come: His herald, John,
Who, like Elias, in the wilderness
Had nursed his kingly soul to kingly deeds
Heroic, came, the voice before the Word,
Crying, 'Repent, the kingdom is at hand.'
God's Spirit echoed the warning, and the cry
Struck sharp on human hearts, like steel on flint:
And crowds, their sins bewailing, throng'd the man
Whose hand explored the secret womb of thought,
And in whose dreadless eye eternity
Glared upon time. Men ask'd men, 'Is there space
To flee the wrath to come?' Jerusalem
Hurried to Jordan. Ah, what deeds of wrong
Lips, counted by their fellows pure as babes,
Flung there upon the startled winds! What filth
Was wash'd away from penitential hearts
In that baptismal stream! But now, behold,
To our amaze among the crowds we saw
The spotless Son of Mary. John, abash'd,
Shrank from the suit He urged. But He refused
Refusal. And, as from the shallow ford
Returning on the bank He knelt in prayer,
Lo, on a sudden the blue heavens were rent,
Unfolding to the very throne of God,
And (time and space subjected now to love)
The Spirit descending in corporeal shape,
Dove-like slighted on His sacred head,
A Dove of plumage whiter than the light:
And from the depths of glory came the Voice
Of the Eternal Father, 'This is He,
My well-beloved, My Son, My soul's delight.'
This voice celestial, this celestial form,
Alone of all those thronging multitudes
John heard and saw; while Gabriel with his hosts
Shielded the spot from hell's malignant thrones,
Who pined in vain, confounded auditors
Of words which knell'd their doom. But straight their prince,
Like some great warlike chief repulsed, who makes
His failure instant cause for fresh assaults
Or deadlier stratagems, recall'd his peers
To their dark council chamber wrapt in clouds,
Whence issuing after long consult, a smile
Of baleful hope upon his faded brow,
He sought the designated Son of God.

'Meanwhile from Jordan's father banks the Christ,
With His own thoughts communing, thoughts impregn'd
And glorified by the incumbent Spirit,
Which in His sevenfold plenitude of grace,
Life, light, power, wisdom, counsel, fear, and love,
Immeasurable on Him abode, was led
Eastward towards the wilds of Araby.
Hour after hour He walk'd lonely, nor felt
Or weariness or want: such bursting hopes
Of His unparallel'd emprise surcharged
His bosom. And, when nightfall unawares
Came down upon the rocky wilderness,
He, like the solitary Jacob, laid
His head upon a stone and slept: but dreams
Diviner than the pilgrim patriarch saw
Visited His bleak couch, we camping near.
And, when the morning broke, He rose refresh'd,
His first thoughts like the fragrant incense borne
Up to His Father's presence. Onward still,
As One guided invisibly, He press'd,
Nor ate nor hunger'd. Thus a second day
Pass'd, and a third; till Nebo's barren cliffs
And rugged precipices barr'd in front
His prospect. But, as night again descended,
And on a stony pillow as before
Messiah sought repose, we were aware
Of change and peril imminent. Thick clouds,
Dragging their vaporous skirts along the hills,
Blotted the stars; and distant thunders roused
The beasts of rapine from their lairs, whose roar
Seem'd ever nearer on the moaning blast.
The darkness was not all of earth: wing'd forms
Unhallow'd pass'd us in the thickening gloom.
We watch'd in doubt, unweeting what designs
The foe was hatching. But, when morn approach'd,
And Jesus through the twilight walk'd abroad,
Far other visions than the last appear'd
To' have haunted His night hours. His calm aspect
Was troubled; and in place of joy His eye
Flash'd with the wrath of tempted innocence
Indignant. Not the brooding wintry storm,
That beat in gusts upon His sacred head,
Vex'd Him whose spirit was swept with fiercer winds;
Nor yet the lion's baffled growl, that slunk
From Gabriel's sword into the tangled brake;
Nor pangs of hunger, for in that stern strife
He felt them not. But now the Arch-fiend wove
His sublest machinations, flinging shafts
Incessant of all racking doubts and fears,
The tempter wielding archangelic powers,
The Tempted in weak human flesh enshrined.
Night came, but night was terrible as day;
And sleep, but sleep was worse than waking thoughts:
Nor one day only, nor yet seven, nor seven
Twice told or thrice; but forty days and nights
That conflict inexpressible was waged,
No avenue of reason unassail'd,
No bolt from that wide quiver's mouth unshot:
All, all in vain. Then inly to himself
The devil mutter'd, as I caught the words,
'My ghostly weapons faill, let sight and sense
Avail me, as in Eden,' - and relax'd
His onset.

'Then it was, the urgent stress
Of battle interrupted, hunger seized
The fainting Saviour. And His foe and ours,
No longer unapparent, what remain'd
Of his original lustre re-assumed,
And in his proper shape approach'd, his aim
Dissembling. 'If Thou art the Son of God, -
Nor other can I deem Thee, who hast foil'd
My uttermost attempt, - our duel now
Is ended. I confess discomfiture.
One only proof I ask, not for myself
Who know Thee, but for those who know Thee not,
One act as innocent in Thee to grant
As it is reasonable in me to crave;
Nay further, necessary for Thy wants,
Who here wilt perish in the wilderness.
Change by Thy word this rocky stone to bread.
Vouchsafe me this; and henceforth I and mine
Will leave Thee undisturb'd, the Christ of God.'

'So glozed the tempter. But the Son of Man,
As man clad in the panoply of faith,
Drew from its sheath the sharp sword of the Spirit,
And answer'd, 'It is written, Man shall live
Not by bread only, but by every word
Spoken by God.' And Satan shrank abash'd:
For on these very rocks, when bread was not,
The food of angels, at His voice who spake,
Had fallen round the tents of Israel.

'But from the deserts now the spirit of evil,
God's Spirit permitting, led the Saviour forth
Invisible, and with speed miraculous
Brought Him to Salem's sanctuary sublime,
Where over Kedron's vale the dizzy porch
O'erhung the valley. It was then the feast
Of tabernacles, and the crowds were spread
Like aloes by the rivers far beneath,
While others from Siloah's fountain fetch'd
The mystic water in a golden ewer,
And pour'd it in the temple forth with songs
Of Hallelujah and exuberant joy.
There, as they stood upon the utmost ridge,
Thus spake the tempter - 'Be it as Thou sayest:
Thy faith forbids Thee work a work to still
The cravings of Thy mortal need. For Thee,
Whether by famine or by violence,
Death has no terrors. Be it so. But now,
Not for Thyself, but for Thy chosen race
I ask Thee, show Thyself the Son of God.
Cast Thyself down from hence. Angels of light,
Thou knowest, are about Thee: they will bear,
As promised in the oracles of truth,
Thee in their hands. I meanwhile will direct
All eyes upon this lofty battlement;
And joyful Israel shall behold her Prince
Descending with His radiant ministries
About Him, and shall crown Thee, as foretold,
The Son of David upon David's throne.'

'Messiah answer'd, - 'It is written again,
Thou shalt not dare to tempt the Lord thy God.'
Brief words but keen: beneath whose subtle edge
The devil writhed in anguish. But yet one,
One last and damnable assault remain'd;
And from the holy city quickly' he bore
The Saviour to that mountain peak, which look'd
Far over His late solitary watch,
Whence Moses, ere he fell on sleep, beheld
The hills and valleys of the land, with milk
And honey flowing, to the western sea
And goodly Lebanon. But now (such skill
That mighty regent of the air had learn'd)
Whether by optical illusion wrought,
Like some mirage of cataracts and lakes
And gardens in Arabia's barren sands,
Or suns in mockery flushing Zembla's snows,
Refraction on refraction multiplied, -
Or haply' air pictures cunningly disposed
Within the eye's transparent microcosm, -
The mode I know not - but the daedal earth
With all its mighty realms from pole to pole,
Illumed with sudden supernatural light,
Seem'd lying, kindreds, peoples, nations, tongues,
A gorgeous panorama, scene on scene
Reflecting splendor, at Messiah's feet,
And in the twinkling of an eye condensed
The glories and the miseries of man,
As in a focus, on His startled soul,
Moving compassion and amaze at once.

'Then spake again the tempter, 'Not for Thee,
Whose meat it is to do Thy Father's will,
Nor yet for Israel, far too scant a field
For Thy illimitable sovereign schemes
Of goodness, do I now prefer request;
But for the world, the universal world,
To me committed, as Thou know'st, by One
Who never of His words or deeds repents: -
Let these four thousand years of wreck and ruin
Bear witness. I had fondly thought to hold
This sceptre as mine own. But let it pass.
Rather than wage interminable war,
I yield Thee my dominion. I shall find
Some other orb untenanted as yet,
Whereon to fix my throne. And for the gift,
Vouchsafed me first, mine therefore to restore,
This coveted inheritance, I ask
But one brief passing act of homage done,
One transient recognition whence Thou owest
Thy kingdom. At my feet receive the boon.
Thou shrinkest? Why not? I have seen Thee bow
To earthly rulers, - by Thy mother's side
Have seen Thee kneeling. Having stopp'd so low,
Stoop once again to less indignity
By far than prophecy assigns Thee. Thou
Already' hast suffer'd much; Thy gentle spirit
Amongst ungentle children; Thy pure youth
Alien amongst impure; Thy ripening faith
Exotic in a faithless world; but all
Is nothing, less than nothing, to the doom
Before Thee chronicled in scrolls of fate,
If Thou refuse my offer. Thou wilt stretch
Thy weary hands, loaden with gifts of life,
To disobedient and gainsaying men:
Thine own will not receive Thee: cruel craft
Will dog Thy footsteps: till Thou sink'st at last
Under distress, dismay, derision, death.
What, death for Thee, the peerless Prince of life?
Truly, though I have done fell deeds, - in war
All things are lawful, - I, though damn'd should grieve
To see death's ghastly weapon pierce Thy heart.
My Liege, to Thee I owe my being: what
Of great I am is Thine: why then abhor
In me to honor Thy own workmanship?
Fear not, though I have woven countless snares,
And tangled countless hearts, angels and men,
With Thee all snares were useless; and I swear,
In this my offer lurks nor lure nor guile:
One insignificant act of homage paid,
And I retire, and with me all my hosts,
From earth and earth's precincts. Sole sovereign here
May'st Thou achieve Thy God-like enterprise,
And earth re-echo Thy Great Father's name.
Nor ever again will I disturb Thy realm:
I have my gloomy bodings, even as Thou,
What may ensue, thus struggling without end:
Weary of horrid war, I long for peace.
One little act, and I resign Thee all.'

'Messiah's words anticipate our thoughts,
His hand still cleaving to the two-edged sword,
'Hence, Satan: it is written, Thou shalt serve
The Lord thy God, and worship only Him.'
And by the lightning of the Saviour's eye,
Bent full upon the Adversary, we saw
His desperate repulse. The naked truth
Had rived his bosom. Gnashing with remorse,
Slowly, reluctantly, he sank, as sinks
The angry tide from off a lighthouse rock,
Which it has drench'd in blinding spray and foam,
Leaving the light unscathed. And it was ours
To cluster round that humble Victor's feet,
And offer fruitage from the vines of heaven,
And water from the rivulets of life,
And blossoms gather'd on their marge; from me
He took with smiles a flower of amaranth -
(As Oriel spake, a blush of deeper rose
Crimson'd his cheek at the remember'd joy) -
Yea, and to tender sympathies more sweet
Than flowers, or fruit, or fountains gushing life,
Wherewith refresh'd ere long Messiah bent
His footsteps to the plains of Galilee.

'Full of the Spirit He came: His sinless powers
All quicken'd to the uttermost of man:
His faith transparent without clouds: His love.
Clear radiance on the altar of His heart,
Fire without smoke of darkness: prophecies
Of everlasting joy kindling His soul:
Pure perfect Manhood. We had often wept
Tears of delight to see celestial grace
Struggling and triumphing in weakness; but
Some stains had ever with the saintliest saints
Blotted the story of their life. What need
To speak of Noah, and of Abraham,
Of Moses, David, Hezekiah, Job,
Who sometime trail'd their garments on the earth,
Though whiter now than snow? But here was One
Faultless though compass'd with infirmity,
In human weakness sinless, who had stoop'd
Lower than angelhood in might, but dwarf'd
In uncreated goodness infinite
The loftiest seraphim: no stern recluse,
As His forerunner; but the Guest and Friend
Of all who sought Him, mingling with all life
To breathe His holiness on all. No film
Obscured His spotless lustre. From His lips
Truth limpid without error flow'd. Disease
Fled from His touch. Pain heard Him, and was not.
Despair smiled in His presence. Devils knew,
And trembled. In the omnipotence of faith
Unintermittent, indefectible,
Leaning upon His Father's might, He bent
All nature to His will. The tempest sank,
He whispering, into waveless calm. The bread,
Given from His hands, fed thousands and to spare.
The stormy waters, as the solid rock,
Were pavement for His footstep. Death itself
With vain reluctancies yielded its prey
To the stern mandate of the Prince of life.

'Not that these things are hid from thee: but, brother,
None but an angel can methinks conceive
What angels felt, as over Him they stoop'd
Lost in adoring contemplation. Oft
Has Gabriel call'd me to his side in awe
At His Divine humility; which once,
Once only in His earthly pilgrimage,
Suffer'd the shrouded glory to escape
Its fleshly veil.

'Once only, on the crest
Of snow Hermon as He knelt in prayer,
His chosen witnesses beheld His form
Apparell'd in its own celestial light,
More dazzling than the snows on which it shone,
When Michael, who on Satan's fall assumed
At God's command the hierarchal primacy,
The same who guarded Moses' funeral rites
And bore Elijah in God's chariot home,
Brought them, one bodiless, embodied one,
From Paradise before the other dead,
To commune with their Lord on His decease
Now nigh at hand. Then the Shekinah cloud
Descending, wrapt them in its radiant folds,
And from its excellent glory came a Voice
'This is My Son Beloved, hear ye Him.'

'This Voice we heard, nor we alone who knelt
Near as permitted: fiendish auditors
Beyond us, in the dusky air suspense,
Heard it, and quaked in silence: Satan heard
Confounded, and now, desperate of fraud,
Seem'd only' intent to deal the cruellest bruise
Immedicable on his Victim's heel,
His Victor soon. Ranging abroad he stirr'd
The hosts of darkness to maligner hate,
Saying, Now was the hinge of battle, now
The fated hour of doom: one effort more,
And earth, their destined heritage, was theirs.
Then round him cluster'd, gloomy body-guard,
His peers, into whose venomous breasts he fused
Fresh venom, urging some to wreak worse ill
On their demoniac slaves, others to wind
Their coils on envy around priestly hearts,
And others in the path of ruthless men
To dig quick pitfalls of insensate pride:
Himself, with Mammon for his minister,
Tracking the Saviour's steps, and beckoning on,
With lures of miserable gold, a wretch
Who sprang well pleased into his cursed embrace,
Judas, the heir of everlasting shame.

'Once he was cow'd; when seated with his mates
In council (such were daily now convened)
Quick tidings reach'd him, that his fiercest spirits
Quail'd at the name of Jesus breathed in faith
By humblest lips. Instantly, whether rage
O'ermaster'd him, or shadowing fear surprised,
Down like a meteor or a lightning flash
From that aerial height he sank, he fell, -
Not unobserved by Him whose piercing Eye,
Scanning the ages, in that lapse beheld
A presage of his endless fall from heaven
To the abysmal pit. But Satan soon,
Collecting his dejected legions, cried
The while he spat defiance on his Lord,
'Do Thou Thy worst: Thou hast not tasted ours' -
And without further cause of hate pursued
His drear deliberations, boding death.

'The hour was almost come. Six days had pass'd,
Since from the lonely Ephraim the Lord
Had sought the house He loved at Bethany,
Where Martha and her sister dwelt, and he,
Whose disembodied spirit we some time kept
Lull'd by the wafting of angelic wings,
As in a dream of undefined delight,
Until the Word recall'd him: six brief days,
But every moment big with destiny:
The Sabbath of unbroken peace and prayer:
That evening, - was it much for her, whose heart
Was crush'd, to crush the alabaster vase? -
Mary, with love's foreboding instinct, pour'd
The precious myrrh upon His head and feet,
The midnight watches spent with God: the ride
Of lowly triumph dash'd with tears, and songs
Woven with sighs, into Jerusalem;
The weary Wayfarer's return afoot
Over the ridge of wooded Olivet
At nightfall; the surprise of early dawn
Startling His orisons; the lonely curse,
Pregnant with gracious warning, which His lips
Pronounced; the sanctuary cleansed anew;
The nightly calm; the morrow's stern contest
With stubborn hearts, sheathed in dark unbelief
Or darker superstition, - crystal truth
Confuting guile, pure love predicting woes
Upon impure malignity; the cry
'We would see Jesus,' breathed by Gentile lips,
While on His prescient troubled soul there fell
The first dark shadows of the vale of death,
Rugged with tempest; the suspended prayer,
Whose dread alternative was death or life,
Which rested 'Father, glorify Thy name;'
The Voice responsive from the Throne, which fill'd
The hearts of prostrate seraphim with awe,
But fell unheeded upon mortal ears;
Until the Lord o' the temple, not before
He made the widow's heart to sing for joy,
Forsook His house. As once Ezekiel saw
The symbol of His awful Presence pause
Reluctant o'er the threshold, cherub-borne,
And o'er the city brood like guardian fire,
And move, and rest upon the hill that lies
Fronting the dawn, - so then on Olivet
The weary Saviour rested and forecast
The anguish coming on Jerusalem,
The birth-pangs of evangel life, nor left
That mountain's brow, nor limited the range
Of His prophetic vision, till He spake
Of His great Advent in the clouds of Heaven.
One day of calm seclusion; and a night
And morning all unvex'd, albeit the powers
Of evil throng'd the air; but, as the sun
Swerved westward, Jesus, with the Twelve, set forth
Towards the city which He loved, the while
We hung around their footsteps, till they sate
In silent thought around the Paschal board.

'Thou knowest all. But when the Son of God,
Equal Assessor of the Father's throne,
Author and Heir of all things, girt Himself,
Stoop'd, and the Servant of His servants, wash'd
Their feet, we gazed upon the awful scene
In terrible amazement, till His words
Recall'd us to the Infinite of love
Which dwelt within Him and in which He dwelt,
Making, it seem'd, all other humbleness
Appear too high, all other love too low.
But now the Paschal lamb was eaten, now
The wine-cups fill'd and drunk; when he, who knew
What was in man, and from that hour look'd forth
Upon the ages of all time, ordain'd
Those holy mysteries of bread and wine,
The banquet of His body and His blood,
The ever fresh memorials of His death
To faith instinct with life, and quick with love,
Symbols of eucharistic sacrifice,
The sacramental oath of fealty,
The bond of brotherhood, the pledge of heaven.

'Alas, far different fruit those emblems now
Wrought in the traitor! Satan, who ere this
Had visited his heart nor met repulse,
Now readily assumed the ready throne,
And sway'd him willing to his will. The light
Was torment; and alone he stagger'd forth
Into the darkness on his dark intent.

'And now from lips, which spake as never man,
Flow'd words of inexpressible tenderness
Mingled with power, while more than human love,
Clothing itself in human language pour'd
Immortal comforts into mortal hearts,
Until they overflow'd in tears. And then
The Great High Priest, with eyes uplift to heaven,
Standing as if the mystic veil were rent
Before the seat of mercy, in full view
Of those He loved, pleaded their cause with One
Who loved them even as Himself; nor stay'd
Before He breathed that wonderful 'I will'
Which draws His children hither as their work
Is finish'd, spring of countless tears on earth,
And harvests sown in weeping reap'd in joy.

'Meanwhile the moon had risen full-orb'd: and they,
Passing through lights and shadows, bent their steps
A long the city's now deserted streets
To Kedron's vale; over the brook; where wound
The mountain path to Olivet: and there
Upon the right a garden, into which
They enter'd, olive-set Gethsemane.

'But wherefore now with trembling lips recall
That scene of unimaginable woe?
The summons of the chosen three; the moan
Of mortal anguish from the Lord of life;
The vigil, tenderly enjoin'd in vain;
The agony of prayer; the bloody sweat,
Wrung from His sacred brow and trembling limbs
By griefs, which no created mind can sound;
The cry, when that exceeding bitter cup
Sear'd as hot iron His lip; the human soul
Quivering, until from the unfolding heavens
A seraph (which of the empyreal thrones
We knew not, for upon that awful quest
His mantling wings had too securely veil'd
His presence and his face perplex'd with tears,
And his dear Master's look sufficed for praise)
Descending knelt beside that kneeling Form
And strengthen'd Him: and through the moonlight stole
The slow, the tremulously balanced words,
'Not My will, O My Father, Thine be done,'
Once and again.

'The first sharp paroxysm,
As Death infix'd his keen envenom'd sting
Full in the bosom of Eternal Life,
Was over. Follow'd now the traitor's kiss;
The binding of Omnipotence; the stroke
Of Peter, kept from rash repeat by words
That thrill'd our hearts, and sheathed more swords than his
Each in its scabbard; the apostles' flight;
The hurried Sanhedrim; the viewless fiends,
Thronging that hall and plying all their arts
On men abandon'd to their cursed will;
The strength of one, who lean'd upon himself,
Found wanting; meantime falsehood bearding Truth;
The Lamb of God silent; the faith which look'd
From that tribunal to the final bar:
And, as the cold gray morning struggled through,
The guiltless Sufferer bound, and rudely dragg'd
From court to court, abhorr'd, accused, reviled,
Until that proud contemptuous Roman heart
Yielded to those infuriate cries, and gave
The Man of sorrows up to bitter death.

'Woe, brother, woe for those, who against hope
Ere this in hope persisted! One of us
Was summon'd to the wretched traitor's end,
And by command led forth his damned spirit
To its own place of doom. But we, the rest,
Forbidden longer to oppose the worst,
Could only follow with those weeping few
Who hung around the footsteps of their Lord,
Amazed, appall'd. We saw the weary cross
Laid on His fainting strength, His sacred limbs
Ruthlessly stripp'd, His quivering hands and feet
Pierced with the cruel nails, while words of love,

Father, forgive who know not what they do,

Fell from His agonized lips. And now
The cross was raised. And there betwixt two thieves
The Increate Creator of all worlds,
The Son of the Eternal Father, hung
Betray'd, bereft, beleaguer'd, crucified.

'Thou weepest, brother: well thou may'st. My tears
With thine are flowing. But in that first hour
No angel wept. Sorrow itself was numb'd
Within us: while the bitter jests and taunts
Of soldiers, priests, and reckless passers by,
And curses mutter'd from between clench'd teeth
Fell ever on the meek Redeemer's ears,
A pitiless storm. But, when upon His right,
Gazing upon His superhuman love
Till the hard stone was crush'd and contrite, one
Of those who hung beside His cross rebuked
His fellow, and cried, 'Lord, remember me,'
And firstfruits of His dying anguish, drew
Life from that bleeding sacrifice; and when
The Saviour, looking on the faithful group
That cluster'd at His feet, tenderly gave
His mother to His friend, - the sight unseal'd
The frozen springs of sorrow, and we wept.

'Was love stronger than death? Upon that cross
They grappled as in final strife. For now
Hell put forth all its malice, and let loose
Its gather'd vengeance. All the air was dense
With fiends; and blackness, blacker than the night
Which Moses' rod on smitten Egypt drew,
Dismay'd the heavens: such delegated power
Had Satan, regent of the air, and all
The gloomy hosts of darkness at his beck
Hemming the Saviour round. And, as the load
Immense, intolerable, of the world's sin,
Casting its dreadful shadow high as heaven,
Deep as Gehenna, nearer and more near
Grounded at last upon that Sinless Soul
With all its crushing weight and killing curse,
Then first, from all eternity then first,
From His beloved Son the Father's face
Was slowly' averted, and its light eclipsed;
And through the midnight broke the Sufferer's groan,

Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?

The echo was the mockeries of hell,
Reverberate in human lips. We heard,
And shudder'd. Gabriel lean'd on me a space,
And hid his face within my vesture's folds,
As if the sight were all too terrible
Even for archangelic faith. But now
Once more the agonizing Victim moan'd,
Uttering His anguish in one dreadful plaint,

I thirst;
His last: for, when the cooling sponge
Had touch'd His lips, a loud and different cry,
As if of triumph,
It is finish'd,
rang
Upon our startled ears; and with a child's
Confiding tender trustfuless, that breathed

Father, to Thy hands I commend My spirit,

He bow'd His head, and yielded up the ghost.

'Earth quaked. The rocks were rent. The graves of saints
Were open'd. And the temple's mystic veil
Was riven in view of worshippers and priests,
Disclosing things unseen. Ere long the spear
Open'd the fountain in the Saviour's side,
And soon that holy tabernacle lay,
Like a deserted temple, cold and still,
In Joseph's rock-hewn tomb. But, brother, who
Of angels can describe what next ensued,
When Jesus breathed firmament of spirits? Straightway
Around His disembodied soul the powers
Of darkness swarm'd, and Satan face to face
With burning falchion barr'd His path. One look,
Mere virtue bent on mere maliciousness,
Pierced him like lightning, and shot withering fire
Among his blasted hosts. Distraught they stood,
Insensible, one moment; and then fell
From round Him, as the billow's cloven pride
Falls in thick spray from off the vessel's prow
By northern blasts, as by the arm of fate,
Driven towards the port of refuge. Fain had we
Accompanied His steps. His warning hand
Restrain'd us. Lonely He had fought the fight;
And lonely He must stoop to strip the slain,
And lonely gather up the spoils of death.

'Immediate, quicken'd in His human spirit,
More swiftly than the swiftest seraph's wing,
With speed akin to thought journeying He pass'd
Adown the firmamental heavens, and through
The maze of constellations, and, or ever
His stiffening corse was from the tree unloosed,
Had traversed the dark avenue that leads
Straight to the adamantine doors of hell.
These open'd to His advent, and beneath
Their awful archway He descended; and,
As downward through the lurid air He oped
His discontinuous path, beneath Him lay
The ruins and the wrecks of sin. And then
Full on His naked soul His Father's Eye
Rested with uneclipsed unclouded blaze,
Rested and found no flaw, no film of dark,
No jar, no discord, no antagonism,
But light to light responsive, beam to beam,
And love in faultless unison with love,
Perfection imaging Perfection: whence,
Not agony as with the damn'd perforce,
But trust, and peace, and joy too deep for words.

'Around Him devils and lost souls stood thronging,
Under God's custody compell'd that hour
To gather from the farthest vaults of hell,
And witness His descent, whose calm aspect
Might crush all hope, not wholly dead before,
That Satan in the conflict waged on earth
Should win some transient triumph, and unbar
Their prison. But when now they saw their Lord
Strengthless, for so He seem'd, as they themselves,
Dark thoughts possess'd them to seize fast their prey,
And hold Him hostage for their own escape -
Proof that no hell can change the lost. But lo,
The Son of God upon that cursed soil,
In human weakness though Almighty, knelt,
And gazing up into His Father's face
Pleaded for rescue from that dark sojourn
Among the dead. And instantly His prayer,
As Jonah's issuing from the ocean depths,
Rose like a cloud of incense high within
Heaven's temple. Then the empyrean shook;
The everlasting hills trembled; the heavens
Were bow'd beneath His glory, who came down
Upon the wings of Cherubim, in wrath,
Darkness beneath His feet, lightnings before,
And round about Him clouds, which from their skirts
Shot hailstones and thick burning coals of fire
Among His enemies: while at their feet
The solid yawn'd with fissures, and disclosed
A lower depth of fire unquenchable,
Gehenna's lake, soon hidden; but the sight,
Once seen, was shadow of the second death.
And now the right hand of Omnipotence
Was laid in love upon His Only Son,
And drew Him from among His stricken foes,
And from that vast profound, and o'er that gulf
Untravell'd by created wing, that lies
Betwixt that land of utter death and ours,
Athwart that billowy chasm, over these hills
And triple battlements of Paradise:
And, ere on earth the Sabbath eve began,
The Saviour met the sinner He had saved,
And welcomed him beneath the trees of life.

'Now was there joy and jubilant delight
In that fair Eden. Now was come the hour,
For which four thousand years had look'd and long'd,
Since first the solitary Abel trod
These hills and plains. Placid had been that rest,
And calm that heaven after life's rough sea,
Each one at will in holy solitude
Reposing, or with the other saintly spirits
Walking in blissful converse. Age by age
Earth yielded hither her choicest and her best,
And here the angels on their ministries
Pass'd ever to and fro. But till the Word
Had conquer'd death, He came not to the dead
In excellence of glory manifest,
Though there, as every where, in power and spirit: -
Haply such advent had not all beseem'd
The Lord of life: - howbeit they saw not God,
As saints thereafter saw His face and lived,
But rather walk'd by faith like those on earth;
And oftentimes the craving cry 'How long?'
Of souls beneath the altar rose to heaven.
Judge then their ecstasy of joy, when now,
Apparent in a human form like theirs,
The Saviour stood amongst them, and proclaim'd,
The fight was foughten, and the victory won.

'From realm to realm of that great under-world
That day He journey'd. No one but received
Some token of His love. And, as He pass'd
That lonely vale with its own gates recluse,
Wherein the disembodied spirits in ward,
Who once were disobedient ere the flood,
Waited His advent with intenser hope,
He enter'd and reveal'd Himself, their Lord,
Besought, too late, for rescue in the ark,
But not for mercy ere they died, which same
Now bade them join the other Blessed Dead.

'This was His latest work. For now the hour
Predestined summon'd Him again to earth:
And, follow'd with innumerable songs
Of blessing, through the gates of Paradise,
And all along its glorious avenue,
Lonely He pass'd, and through the subject heavens
(His foes still cowering from their sore defeat)
To the lone chamber of the tomb.

'The sun
Had not yet risen; but in the golden East
The morning star was tricking his soft lamp,
Like some fair pearl with amber overlaid,
When through the twilight slid the hurrying steps
Of women bearing to the sepulchre
Unguents, and spice, and balm. Suddenly the' earth
Trembled and shook: and Gabriel, such his charge,
Descending from our airy watch roll'd back
The sealed stone, and, with his glory, cast
In a dead swoon the guards. Abash'd, confused,
The women, seeing, saw not; hearing, they
Heard not: save only she of Magdala
Hasted, and ran, a breathless messenger,
To those who mourn'd Him sorest. Quickly these
Ran, love outstripping ardor, to the spot,
And found the empty sepulchre. Love mused;
Faith marvell'd; but persistent Grief remain'd,
Weeping beside that desolated tomb.
Her heart lay buried there. He was her all,
Who in her helpless hopeless misery
Had sometime pass'd her by, and spake the word,
And set the hell-bound captive free. Henceforth
She loved Him with a holy clinging love,
Stronger than death. With broken heart she stood
Brokenly moaning at His cross: she heard
His dying cry. Alas, the weary night!
The long interminable day of rest!
The mournful task of mingling that rich myrrh!
The stifled doubt, could a dead Saviour save?
She crush'd the maddening thought, and only clung
The closer to the sepulchre: and now
Weeping she lean'd upon the cold gray stone,
And, stooping, look'd within.

'There two of us,
Where the dear body of our Lord had lain,
Sate robed in radiant white. Little she reck'd
Of angel ministries who sought her Lord:
And when we ask'd, 'Woman, why weepest thou?'
But turning mournfully away beheld
One whom she knew not, for the sluice of tears
Had drench'd her eyelids: and He likewise ask'd,
'Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou?'
She answer'd; when the Stranger turn'd and said,
'Mary.' She started, and, in one deep cry,
Breathing her incommunicable bliss,
'Rabboni,' fell before His feet, and fain
Had clasp'd them.

'But not now as heretofore,
The human intercourse vouchsafed on earth;
Nor was He to His Father's throne in heaven
That hour ascending. Yet a little space
Emmanuel tabernacled among men
To solace and sustain His orphan Church,
To heal the bleeding heart of penitence,
To cheer the downcast wayfarers, to stand
Suddenly as a spirit, but very Man
Among His brethren, and imbreathe on them
The benediction of His peace and power,
To transform human fear to heavenly faith,
To conquer doubt by love, a second time
To teach His chosen fishermen to cast
The drag-net of the kingdom, to reveal
Himself unto His own in Galilee,
Where He had lived and labor'd longest; thence
Returning to Jerusalem, once more
To lead His loved apostles o'er the slope
Of Olivet to sacred Bethany;
And, ere He left them in that world of sin
Irradiate with the bow of heavenly hope
Their watchings, and their warfare, and their woes.

'It was a golden eventide. The sun
Was sinking through the roseate clouds to rest
Beneath the Western waves. But purer light
And vestments woven of more glorious hues,
Albeit invisible to mortal eyes,
Gladden'd the heavens. For there the hosts of God,
Ten thousand times ten thousand, tier on tier,
Marshall'd by Gabriel, fill'd the firmament;
The lowest ranks, horses and cars of fire,
Circling Mount Olivet; and next to these
A body-guard of flaming seraphim,
And hierarchal thrones; and after them
Celestial armies without number stretch'd
In infinite ascent aloft, their swords
Sheathed by their side (for, like an eagle scared,
No foe on that great triumph moved the wing,
Open'd his mouth, or peep'd), and in their hand
The palm of victory and the harp of praise:
While through their thronging multitudes there oped
A path of crystal glory, all perfumed
With love and breezy raptures, such as heaven
Had never known. But every eye was bent
Upon the Saviour, as He stood amongst
The apostolic group, and lifted up
His hands and bless'd them, and in blessing rose,
No wind, no car, no cherubim of fire
Ministrant, in His Father's might self-moved,
Into the glowing sky; until a cloud
Far floating in the zenith, which had drunk
Of the last sunbeams, wrapt His radiant form,
And instantly became like light itself,
Then melted into viewless air. But we,
Closing around His path, with shouts of joy
Rose with Him through the subjugated heavens,
The desolate domains of Lucifer,
And through the starry firmament, whose orbs,
Vibrating with the impulse of our march,
Resounded Hallelujahs and flash'd fires
Of welcome - a procession such as earth
Saw never, nor had heaven beheld till now -
Observing each his place, yet each one near
The Prince of glory, who was near to each,
His Omnipresent Eye on every face
Shedding His rapture; ever soaring higher,
And singing as we soar'd, until we reach'd
The confines of the third celestial sphere,
Shut in by gates of pearl, transcending these
Of Paradise, as these surpass the porch
Of the first Eden. There aloof, around,
Thronging the arch on this side and on that,
Was Michael with a host equal to ours,
Sent from the heavenly Zion. Onward still
We swept like clouds over an azure sky,
And to the sound of martial trumpets sang
Exultingly, 'Lift up your heads, ye gates!
Be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors!
Up, and the King of glory shall come in.'
Immediate, like an echo from those ranks
Guarding the heavenly citadel, the voice
Of myriads perfectly attuned as one,
Came back the peal of joyful challenge, 'Who,
Who is the King of glory?' - and from ours
The jubilant response, 'The Lord of hosts,
Mighty in battle' against the powers of hell,
Jehovah, King of glory! Lift your heads!
Be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors!
Up, and the King of glory shall come in.'
'Who is the King of glory?' yet again
Peal'd from those opening gates. 'The Lord of hosts:
He is the King of glory,' broke once more
In waves of thunder on those jasper walls,
Which never shook till now. And, host with host
Commingling, through the portals on we swept,
And through the city of the King of kings,
The streets of golden crystal tremulous
Beneath the nimble tread of seraphim,
And eager principalities and powers,
And cohorts without number, till we came
Into the heavenly temple (space enough
Beneath the nimble its comprehensive dome for all
God's ministries and more than all twice told
In order ranged): and then the Great High Priest
Alone advancing with His precious blood
Touch'd, as it seem'd, the spotless mercy-seat;
And lo, the Everlasting Father rose,
Diffusing beams of joy ineffable,
Which centred on His Son, His only Son,
And rising to His bosom folded Him
(If acts of Him the Increate can thus
Be duly in our language shadow'd forth)
And set Him at His own right hand: while clouds,
The temple, and awoke in every heart
Bliss inconceivable of silent praise.

'Much, brother, could I tell what then and there
Befell in heaven: and chiefly how the Son
Cleansed with the virtue of His blood those courts
Which had defilement from the access thither
Of spirits accurst, and having cleansed them bless'd
With unction of the Holy One, and then
Utter'd His irreversible decree,
Which henceforth from those holiest precincts barr'd
Entrance of ill. But yet remains untold
The warfare which ensued in earth and heaven:
And in the age of ages yet to come
Often shall we resume the wondrous tale,
Which now I touch so briefly, of the past.'