JOHN iii. 2.
Through that pure virgin-shrine,
That sacred veil[145] drawn o'er thy glorious noon,
That men might look and live, as glowworms shine,
And face the moon,
Wise Nicodemus saw such light
As made him know his God by night.
Most blest believer he,
Who in that land of darkness and blind eyes,
Thy long-expected healing wings could see
When thou didst rise!
And, what can never more be done,
Did at midnight speak with the sun!
O who will tell me where
He found thee at that dead and silent hour?
What hallowed solitary ground did bear
So rare a flower,
Within whose sacred leaves did lie
The fulness of the Deity?
No mercy-seat of gold,
No dead and dusty cherub, nor carved stone,
But his own living works did my Lord hold
And lodge alone,
Where trees and herbs did watch and peep
And wonder, while the Jews did sleep.
Dear night! this world's defeat;
The stop to busy fools; care's check and curb,
The day of spirits; my soul's calm retreat
Which none disturb!
Christ's progress, and his prayer time,[146]
The hours to which high heaven doth chime![147]
God's silent, searching flight;[148]
When my Lord's head is filled with dew, and all
- His
- locks are wet with the clear drops of night,
His still, soft call;
His knocking time;[149] the soul's dumb watch,
When spirits their fair kindred catch.
Were all my loud, evil[150] days
Calm and unhaunted as is thy dark tent,
Whose peace but by some angel's wing or voice
Is seldom rent,
Then I in heaven all the long year
Would keep, and never wander here.
But living where the sun
Doth all things wake, and where all mix and tire
Themselves and others, I consent and run
To every mire;
And by this world's ill guiding light,
Err more than I can do by night
There is in God, some say,
A deep but dazzling darkness; as men here
- Say
- it is late and dusky, because they
See not all clear:
O for that night! where I in him
Might live invisible and dim!
This is glorious; and its lesson of quiet and retirement we need more
than ever in these hurried days upon which we have fallen. If men would
but be still enough in themselves to hear, through all the noises of the
busy light, the voice that is ever talking on in the dusky chambers of
their hearts! Look at his love for Nature, too; and read the fourth
stanza in connexion with my previous remarks upon symbolism. I think this
poem grander than any of George Herbert's. I use the word with intended
precision.
Here is one, the end of which is not so good, poetically considered, as
the magnificent beginning, but which contains striking lines
throughout:--