Rampolli | Page 8

drink love and life for ever??Is he now for always dead?
Dead? What means that sound of dolour??Tell me, tell me thou, a scholar,?What it means, that word so grim.?He is silent; all turn from me!?No one on the earth will show me?Where my heart may look for him!
Earth no more, whate'er befall me,?Can to any gladness call me!?She is but one dream of woe!?I too am with him departed:?Would I lay with him, still-hearted,?In the region down below!
Hear, me, hear, his and my father!?My dead bones, I pray thee, gather?Unto his--and soon, I pray!?Grass his hillock soon will cover,?Soon the wind will wander over,?Soon his form will fade away.
If his love they once perceived,?Soon, soon all men had believed,?Letting all things else go by!?Lord of love him only owning,?All would weep with me bemoaning,?And in bitter woe would die!
IX.
He lives! he's risen from the dead!?To every man I shout;?His presence over us is spread,?Goes with us in and out.
To each I say it; each apace?His comrades telleth too--?That straight will dawn in every place?The heavenly kingdom new.
Now, to the new mind, first appears?The world a fatherland;?A new life men receive, with tears?Of rapture, from his hand.
Down into deepest gulfs of sea?Grim Death hath sunk away;?And now each man with holy glee,?Can face his coming day.
The darksome road that he hath gone?Leads out on heaven's floor:?Who heeds the counsel of the Son?Enters the Father's door.
Down here weeps no one any more?For friend that shuts his eyes;?For, soon or late, the parting sore?Will change to glad surprise.
And now to every friendly deed?Each heart will warmer glow;?For many a fold the fresh-sown seed?In lovelier fields will blow.
He lives--will sit beside our hearths,?The greatest with the least;?Therefore this day shall be our Earth's?Glad Renovation-feast.
X.
The times are all so wretched!?The heart so full of cares!?The future, far outstretched,?A spectral horror wears.
Wild terrors creep and hover?With foot so ghastly soft!?Our souls black midnights cover?With mountains piled aloft.
Firm props like reeds are waving;?For trust is left no stay;?Our thoughts, like whirlpool raving,?No more the will obey!
Frenzy, with eye resistless,?Decoys from Truth's defence;?Life's pulse is flagging listless,?And dull is every sense.
Who hath the cross upheaved?To shelter every soul??Who lives, on high received,?To make the wounded whole?
Go to the tree of wonder;?Give silent longing room;?Issuing flames asunder?Thy bad dream will consume.
Draws thee an angel tender?In saftey to the strand:?Lo, at thy feet in splendour?Lies spread the Promised Land!
XI.
I know not what were left to draw me,?Had I but him who is my bliss;?If still his eye with pleasure saw me,?And, dwelling with me, me would miss.
So many search, round all ways going,?With face distorted, anxious eye,?Who call themselves the wise and knowing,?Yet ever pass this treasure by!
One man believes that he has found it,?And what he has is nought but gold;?One takes the world by sailing round it:?The deed recorded, all is told!
One man runs well to gain the laurel;?Another, in Victory's fane a niche:?By different Shows in bright apparel?All are befooled, not one made rich!
Hath He not then to you appeared??Have ye forgot Him turning wan?Whose side for love of us was speared--?The scorned, rejected Son of Man?
Of Him have you not read the story--?Heard one poor word upon the wind??What heavenly goodness was his glory,?Or what a gift he left behind?
How he descended from the Father,?Of loveliest mother infant grand??What Word the nations from him gather??How many bless his healing hand?
How, thereto urged by mere love, wholly?He gave himself to us away,?And down in earth, foundation lowly,?First stone of God's new city, lay?
Can such news fail to touch us mortals??Is not to know the man pure bliss??Will you not open all your portals?To him who closed for you the abyss?
Will you not let the world go faring??For Him your dearest wish deny??To him alone your heart keep baring,?Who you has shown such favour high?
Hero of love, oh, take me, take me!?Thou art my life! my world! my gold!?Should every earthly thing forsake me,?I know who will me scatheless hold!
I see Thee my lost loves restoring!?True evermore to me thou art!?Low at thy feet heaven sinks adoring,?And yet thou dwellest in my heart!
XII.
Earth's Consolation, why so slow??Thy inn is ready long ago;?Each lifts to thee his hungering eyes,?And open to thy blessing lies.
O Father, pour him forth with might;?Out of thine arms, oh yield him quite!?Shyness alone, sweet shame, I know,?Kept him from coming long ago!
Haste him from thine into our arm?To take him with thy breath yet warm;?Thick clouds around the baby wrap,?And let him down into our lap.
In the cool streams send him to us;?In flames let him glow tremulous;?In air and oil, in sound and dew,?Let him pierce all Earth's structure through.
So shall the holy fight be fought,?So come the rage of hell to nought;?And, ever blooming, dawn again?The ancient Paradise of men.
Earth stirs once