IX. COMFORT IN SORROW

a. SUBMISSION TO THE WILL OF GOD

THE SUPREME SACRIFICE

JOHN S. ARK WRIGHT

O valiant Hearts, who to your glory came
Through dust of conflict and through battle-flame;
Tranquil you lie, your knightly virtue proved,
Your memory hallowed in the Land you loved.

Proudly you gathered, rank on rank to war,
As who had heard God's message from afar;
All you had hoped for, all you had you gave
To save Mankind—yourselves you scorned to save.

Splendid you passed, the great surrender made,
Into the light that nevermore shall fade;
Deep your contentment in that blessed abode,
Who wait the last clear trumpet-call of God.

Long years ago, as earth lay dark and still,
Rose a loud cry upon a lonely hill,
While in the frailty of our human clay

Christ, our redeemer, passed the self-same way.

Still stands his cross from that dread hour to this,
Like some bright star above the dark abyss;
Still, through the veil the Victor's pitying eyes
Look down to bless our lesser calvaries.

These were His servants, in His steps they trod
Following through death the martyr'd Son of God:
Victor He rose; victorious too shall rise
Those who have drunk His Cup of Sacrifice.

O risen Lord, O Shepherd of our Dead,

Whose cross has bought them and whose staff has led—
In glorious hope their proud sorrowing Land
Commits her children to Thy gracious hand.

THE PLOUGHMAN

KARLE WILSON BAKER

God will not let my field lie fallow.

The ploughshare is sharp, the feet of his oxen are heavy.
They hurt.

But I cannot stay God from his ploughing,

I, the lord of the field

While I stand waiting

His shoulders loom upon me from the mist.

He has gone past me, down the furrow, shouting and singing, (I had said, it shall rest for a season.

The larks had built in the grass. .)

He will not let my field lie fallow.

SUBSTITUTION |

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

When some beloved voice that was to you
Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly,
And silence against which you dare not cry,
Aches round you like a strong disease and new-
What hope? What help? What music will undo

That silence to your sense? Not friendship's sigh,
Not reason's subtle count; not melody

Of viols, nor of pipes that Faunus blew;
Not songs of poets, nor of nightingales,

Whose hearts leap upward through the cypress trees
To the clear moon; nor yet the spheric laws
Self-chanted, nor the angels' sweet 'All-hails,'
Met in the smile of God: Nay, none of these,
Speak Thou, availing Christ!-and fill this pause.

THE WAIL OF PROMETHEUS BOUND

ÆSCHYLUS

Translated by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

O Holy Æther, and swift-winged Winds,
And River-wells, and laughter innumerous
Of yon sea-waves! Earth, mother of us all,
And all-viewing cyclic Sun, I cry on you,-
Behold me a god, What I endure from gods!
Behold, with throe on throe,
How, wasted by this woe,

I wrestle down the myriad years of time!
Behold how fast around me

The new King of the happy ones sublime

Has flung the chain he forged, has shamed and bound me! Woe, woe! today's woe and the coming morrow's

I cover with one groan, and where is found me

A limit to these sorrows?

And yet what word do I say? I have foreknown
Clearly all things that should be; nothing done
Comes sudden to my soul; and I must bear
What is ordained with patience, being aware
Necessity doth front the universe

With an invincible gesture. Yet this curse
Which strikes me now, I find it hard to brave
In silence or in speech. Because I gave
Honor to mortals, I have yoked my soul

To this compelling fate. Because I stole
The secret fount of fire, whose bubbles went
Over the ferule's brim, and manward sent
Art's mighty means and perfect rudiment,
That sin I expiate in this agony,

Hung here in fetters, 'neath the blanching sky.

Ah, ah me! what a sound,

What a fragrance sweeps up, from a pinion unseen

Of a god or a mortal, or nature between,

Sweeping up to this rock where the earth has her bound,
To have sight of my pangs or some guerdon obtain.
Lo, a god in the anguish, a god in the chain!

The god Zeus hateth sore,

And his gods hate again,

As many as tread on his glorified floor, Because I loved mortals too much evermore. Alas, me! what a murmur and motion I hear, As of birds flying near!

And the air undersings

The light stroke of their wings

And all life that approaches I wait for in fear.

NEARER HOME

PHOEBE CARY

One sweetly solemn thought
Comes to me o'er and o'er:

I am nearer home today

Than I ever have been before;

Nearer my Father's house

Where many mansions be;

Nearer the great white throne,

Nearer the crystal sea;

Nearer the bound of life,

Where we lay our burdens down;

Nearer leaving the cross,

Nearer gaining the crown!

But lying darkly between,

Winding down through the night, Is the silent unknown stream,

That leads at last to the light.

Closer and closer my steps
Come to the dread abysm;

Closer Death to my lips

Presses the awful chrism.

Oh, if my mortal feet

Have almost gained the brink;
If it be I am nearer home

Even today than I think;

Father, perfect my trust;

Let my spirit feel in death,
That her feet are firmly set

On the rock of a living Faith.

HIS BANNER OVER ME

GERALD MASSEY

Surrounded by unnumbered Foes,
Against my soul the battle goes!
Yet though I weary, sore distressed,
I know that I shall reach my Rest:
I lift my tearful eyes above,-
His Banner over me is love.

Its Sword my spirit will not yield,
Though flesh may faint upon the field;
He waves before my fading sight

The branch of palm-the crown of light;
I lift my brightening eyes above,-
His Banner over me is Love.