Poems by Christina Georgina Rossetti Part 33

LONG BARREN.

Thou who didst hang upon a barren tree, My G.o.d, for me; Though I till now be barren, now at length, Lord, give me strength To bring forth fruit to Thee.

Thou who didst bear for me the crown of thorn, Spitting and scorn; Though I till now have put forth thorns, yet now Strengthen me Thou That better fruit be borne.

Thou Rose of Sharon, Cedar of broad roots, Vine of sweet fruits, Thou Lily of the vale with fadeless leaf, Of thousands Chief, Feed Thou my feeble shoots.

IF ONLY.

If I might only love my G.o.d and die!

But now He bids me love Him and live on, Now when the bloom of all my life is gone, The pleasant half of life has quite gone by.

My tree of hope is lopped that spread so high, And I forget how summer glowed and shone, While autumn grips me with its fingers wan, And frets me with its fitful windy sigh.

When autumn pa.s.ses then must winter numb, And winter may not pa.s.s a weary while, But when it pa.s.ses spring shall flower again: And in that spring who weepeth now shall smile, Yea, they shall wax who now are on the wane, Yea, they shall sing for love when Christ shall come.

DOST THOU NOT CARE?

I love and love not: Lord, it breaks my heart To love and not to love.

Thou veiled within Thy glory, gone apart Into Thy shrine, which is above, Dost Thou not love me, Lord, or care For this mine ill?-- _I love thee here or there,_ _I will accept thy broken heart, lie still._

Lord, it was well with me in time gone by That cometh not again, When I was fresh and cheerful, who but I?

I fresh, I cheerful: worn with pain Now, out of sight and out of heart; O Lord, how long?-- _I watch thee as thou art,_ _I will accept thy fainting heart, be strong._

"Lie still," "be strong," to-day; but, Lord, to-morrow, What of to-morrow, Lord?

Shall there be rest from toil, be truce from sorrow, Be living green upon the sward Now but a barren grave to me, Be joy for sorrow?-- _Did I not die for thee?_ _Do I not live for thee? leave Me to-morrow._

WEARY IN WELL-DOING.

I would have gone; G.o.d bade me stay: I would have worked; G.o.d bade me rest.

He broke my will from day to day, He read my yearnings unexpressed, And said them nay.

Now I would stay; G.o.d bids me go: Now I would rest; G.o.d bids me work.

He breaks my heart tossed to and fro, My soul is wrung with doubts that lurk And vex it so.

I go, Lord, where Thou sendest me; Day after day I plod and moil: But, Christ my G.o.d, when will it be That I may let alone my toil And rest with Thee?

MARTYRS' SONG.

We meet in joy, though we part in sorrow; We part to-night, but we meet to-morrow.

Be it flood or blood the path that's trod, All the same it leads home to G.o.d: Be it furnace-fire voluminous, One like G.o.d's Son will walk with us.

What are these that glow from afar, These that lean over the golden bar, Strong as the lion, pure as the dove, With open arms and hearts of love?

They the blessed ones gone before, They the blessed forevermore.

Out of great tribulation they went Home to their home of Heaven-content; Through flood, or blood, or furnace-fire, To the rest that fulfils desire.

What are these that fly as a cloud, With flashing heads and faces bowed, In their mouths a victorious psalm, In their hands a robe and a palm?

Welcoming angels these that shine, Your own angel, and yours, and mine; Who have hedged us both day and night On the left hand and on the right, Who have watched us both night and day Because the Devil keeps watch to slay.

Light above light, and Bliss beyond bliss, Whom words cannot utter, lo, Who is This?

As a King with many crowns He stands, And our names are graven upon His hands; As a Priest, with G.o.d-uplifted eyes, He offers for us His Sacrifice; As the Lamb of G.o.d for sinners slain, That we too may live He lives again; As our Champion behold Him stand, Strong to save us, at G.o.d's Right Hand.

G.o.d the Father give us grace To walk in the light of Jesus' Face.

G.o.d the Son give us a part In the hiding-place of Jesus' Heart: G.o.d the Spirit so hold us up That we may drink of Jesus' cup.

Death is short and life is long; Satan is strong, but Christ more strong.

At His Word, Who hath led us. .h.i.ther, The Red Sea must part hither and thither.

At His Word, Who goes before us too, Jordan must cleave to let us through.

Yet one pang, searching and sore, And then Heaven forevermore; Yet one moment awful and dark, Then safety within the Veil and the Ark; Yet one effort by Christ His grace, Then Christ forever face to face.

G.o.d the Father we will adore, In Jesus' Name, now and evermore: G.o.d the Son we will love and thank In this flood and on the farther bank: G.o.d the Holy Ghost we will praise, In Jesus' Name, through endless days: G.o.d Almighty, G.o.d Three in One, G.o.d Almighty, G.o.d alone.

AFTER THIS THE JUDGMENT.

As eager home-bound traveller to the goal, Or steadfast seeker on an unsearched main, Or martyr panting for an aureole, My fellow-pilgrims pa.s.s me, and attain That hidden mansion of perpetual peace, Where keen desire and hope dwell free from pain: That gate stands open of perennial ease; I view the glory till I partly long, Yet lack the fire of love which quickens these.

O, pa.s.sing Angel, speed me with a song, A melody of heaven to reach my heart And rouse me to the race and make me strong; Till in such music I take up my part, Swelling those Hallelujahs full of rest, One, tenfold, hundred-fold, with heavenly art, Fulfilling north and south and east and west, Thousand, ten-thousand-fold, innumerable, All blent in one yet each one manifest; Each one distinguished and beloved as well As if no second voice in earth or heaven Were lifted up the Love of G.o.d to tell.

Ah, Love of G.o.d, which Thine Own Self hast given To me most poor, and made me rich in love, Love that dost pa.s.s the tenfold seven times seven.

Draw Thou mine eyes, draw Thou my heart above, My treasure and my heart store Thou in Thee, Brood over me with yearnings of a dove; Be Husband, Brother, closest Friend to me; Love me as very mother loves her son, Her sucking firstborn fondled on her knee: Yea, more than mother loves her little one; For, earthly, even a mother may forget And feel no pity for its piteous moan; But Thou, O Love of G.o.d, remember yet, Through the dry desert, through the waterflood (Life, death), until the Great White Throne is set.

If now I am sick in chewing the bitter cud Of sweet past sin, though solaced by Thy grace, And ofttimes strengthened by Thy Flesh and Blood, How shall I then stand up before Thy face, When from Thine eyes repentance shall be hid, And utmost Justice stand in Mercy's place: When every sin I thought or spoke or did Shall meet me at the inexorable bar, And there be no man standing in the mid To plead for me; while star fallen after star With heaven and earth are like a ripened shock, And all time's mighty works and wonders are Consumed as in a moment; when no rock Remains to fall on me, no tree to hide, But I stand all creation's gazing-stock, Exposed and comfortless on every side, Placed trembling in the final balances Whose poise this hour, this moment, must be tried?-- Ah, Love of G.o.d, if greater love than this Hath no man, that a man die for his friend, And if such love of love Thine Own Love is, Plead with Thyself, with me, before the end; Redeem me from the irrevocable past; Pitch Thou Thy Presence round me to defend; Yea seek with pierced feet, yea hold me fast With pierced hands whose wounds were made by love; Not what I am, remember what Thou wast When darkness hid from Thee Thy heavens above, And sin Thy Father's Face, while Thou didst drink The bitter cup of death, didst taste thereof For every man; while Thou wast nigh to sink Beneath the intense intolerable rod, Grown sick of love; not what I am, but think Thy Life then ransomed mine, my G.o.d, my G.o.d.

GOOD FRIDAY.

Am I a stone and not a sheep That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy Cross, To number drop by drop Thy Blood's slow loss, And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee; Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly; Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon Which hid their faces in a starless sky, A horror of great darkness at broad noon,-- I, only I.

Yet give not o'er, But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock; Greater than Moses, turn and look once more And smite a rock.