Rampolli

VI.
LONGING AFTER DEATH

 
     Into the bosom of the earth!
     Out of the Light’s dominions!
     Death’s pains are but the bursting forth
     Of glad Departure’s pinions!
     Swift in the narrow little boat,
     Swift to the heavenly shore we float!
 
 
     Blest be the everlasting Night,
     And blest the endless Slumber!
     We are heated with the day too bright,
     And withered up with cumber!
     We’re weary of that life abroad:
     Come, we will now go home to God!
 
 
     Why longer in this world abide?
     Why love and truth here cherish?
     That which is old is set aside—For
     us the new may perish!
     Alone he stands and sore downcast
     Who loves with pious warmth the Past.
 
 
     The Past where yet the human spirit
     In lofty flames did rise;
     Where men the Father did inherit,
     His countenance recognize;
     And, in simplicity made ripe,
     Many grew like their archetype.
 
 
     The Past wherin, still rich in bloom,
     Old stems did burgeon glorious;
     And children, for the world to come,
     Sought pain and death victorious;
     And, though both life and pleasure spake,
     Yet many a heart for love did break.
 
 
     The Past, where to the glow of youth
     God yet himself declared;
     And early death, in loving truth
     The young beheld, and dared—
     Anguish and torture patient bore
     To prove they loved him as of yore.
 
 
     With anxious yearning now we see
     That Past in darkness drenched;
     With this world’s water never we
     Shall find our hot thirst quenched:
     To our old home we have to go
     That blessed time again to know.
 
 
     What yet doth hinder our return?
     Long since repose our precious!
     Their grave is of our life the bourn;
     We shrink from times ungracious!
     By not a hope are we decoyed:
     The heart is full; the world is void!
 
 
     Infinite and mysterious,
     Thrills through me a sweet trembling,
     As if from far there echoed thus
     A sigh, our grief resembling:
     The dear ones long as well as I,
     And send to me their waiting sigh.
 
 
     Down to the sweet bride, and away
     To the beloved Jesus!
     Courage! the evening shades grow gray,
     Of all our griefs to ease us!
     A dream will dash our chains apart,
     And lay us on the Father’s heart.
    SPIRITUAL SONGS.
 

I

 
     Without thee, what were life or being!
     Without thee, what had I not grown!
     From fear and anguish vainly fleeing,
     I in the world had stood alone;
     For all I loved could trust no shelter;
     The future a dim gulf had lain;
     And when my heart in tears did welter,
     To whom had I poured out my pain?
 
 
     Consumed in love and longing lonely
     Each day had worn the night’s dull face
     With hot tears I had followed only
     Afar life’s wildly rushing race.
     No rest for me, tumultuous driven!
     A hopeless sorrow by the hearth!—
     Who, that had not a friend in heaven,
     Could to the end hold out on earth?
 
 
     But if his heart once Jesus bareth,
     And I of him right sure can be,
     How soon a living glory scareth
     The bottomless obscurity!
     Manhood in him first man attaineth;
     His fate in Him transfigured glows;
     On freezing Iceland India gaineth,
     And round the loved one blooms and blows.
 
 
     Life grows a twilight softly stealing;
     The world speaks all of love and glee;
     For every wound grows herb of healing,
     And every heart beats full and free.
     I, his ten thousand gifts receiving,
     Humble like him, his knees embrace;
     Sure that we share his presence living
     When two are gathered in one place.
 
 
     Forth, forth to all highways and hedges!
     Compel the wanderers to come in;
     Stretch out the hand that good will pledges,
     And gladly call them to their kin.
     See heaven high over earth up-dawning!
     In faith we see it rise and spread:
     To all with us one spirit owning—
     To them with us ‘tis opened.
 
 
     An ancient, heavy guilt-illusion
     Haunted our hearts, a changeless doom;
     Blindly we strayed in night’s confusion;
     Gladness and grief alike consume.
     Whate’er we did, some law was broken!
     Mankind appeared God’s enemy;
     And if we thought the heavens had spoken,
     They spoke but death and misery.
 
 
     The heart, of life the fountain swelling—
     An evil creature lay therein;
     If more light shone into our dwelling,
     More unrest only did we win.
     Down to the earth an iron fetter
     Fast held us, trembling captive crew;
     Fear of Law’s sword, grim Death the whetter,
     Did swallow up hope’s residue.
 
 
     Then came a saviour to deliver—
     A Son of Man, in love and might!
     A holy fire, of life all-giver,
     He in our hearts has fanned alight.
     Then first heaven opened—and, no fable,
     Our own old fatherland we trod!
     To hope and trust we straight were able,
     And knew ourselves akin to God.
 
 
     Then vanished Sin’s old spectre dismal;
     Our every step grew glad and brave.
     Best natal gift, in rite baptismal,
     Their own faith men their children gave.
     Holy in him, Life since hath floated,
     A happy dream, through every heart;
     We, to his love and joy devoted,
     Scarce know the moment we depart.
 
 
     Still standeth, in his wondrous glory,
     The holy loved one with his own;
     His crown of thorns, his faithful story
     Still move our hearts, still make us groan.
     Whoso from deadly sleep will waken,
     And grasp his hand of sacrifice,
     Into his heart with us is taken,
     To ripen a fruit of Paradise.
 

II

 
     Dawn, far eastward, on the mountain!
     Gray old times are growing young:
     From the flashing colour-fountain
     I will quaff it deep and long!—
     Granted boon to Longing’s long privation!
     Sweet love in divine transfiguration!
 
 
     Comes at last, our old Earth’s native,
     All-Heaven’s one child, simple, kind!
     Blows again, in song creative,
     Round the earth a living wind;
     Blows to clear new flames that rush together
     Sparks extinguished long by earthly weather.
 
 
     Everywhere, from graves upspringing,
     Rises new-born life, new blood!
     Endless peace up to us bringing,
     Dives he underneath life’s flood;
     Stands in midst, with full hands, eyes caressing—
     Hardly waits the prayer to grant the blessing.
 
 
     Let his mild looks of invading
     Deep into thy spirit go;
     By his blessedness unfading
     Thou thy heart possessed shalt know.
     Hearts of all men, spirits all, and senses
     Mingle, and a new glad dance commences.
 
 
     Grasp his hands with boldness yearning;
     Stamp his face thy heart upon;
     Turning toward him, ever turning,
     Thou, the flower, must face thy sun.
     Who to him his heart’s last fold unfoldeth,
     True as wife’s his heart for ever holdeth.
 
 
     Ours is now that Godhead’s splendour
     At whose name we used to quake!
     South and north, its breathings tender
     Heavenly germs at once awake!
     Let us then in God’s full garden labour,
     And to every bud and bloom be neighbour!
 

III

 
     Who in his chamber sitteth lonely,
       And weepeth heavy, bitter tears;
     To whom in doleful colours, only
       Of want and woe, the world appears;
 
 
     Who of the Past, gulf-like receding,
       Would search with questing eyes the core,
     Down into which a sweet woe, pleading,
       Wiles him from all sides evermore—
 
 
     As if a treasure past believing
       Lay there below, for him high-piled,
     After whose lock, with bosom heaving,
       He breathless grasps in longing wild:
 
 
     He sees the Future, waste and arid,
       In hideous length before him stretch;
     About he roams, alone and harried,
       And seeks himself, poor restless wretch!—
 
 
     I fall upon his bosom, tearful:
       I once, like thee, with woe was wan;
     But I grew well, am strong and cheerful,
       And know the eternal rest of man.
 
 
     Thou too must find the one consoler
       Who inly loved, endured, and died—
     Even for them that wrought his dolour
       With thousand-fold rejoicing died.
 
 
     He died—and yet, fresh each to-morrow,
       His love and him thy heart doth hold;
     Thou mayst, consoled for every sorrow,
       Him in thy arms with ardour fold.
 
 
     New blood shall from his heart be driven
       Through thy dead bones like living wine;
     And once thy heart to him is given,
       Then is his heart for ever thine.
 
 
     What thou didst lose, he keeps it for thee;
       With him thy lost love thou shalt find;
     And what his hand doth once restore thee,
       That hand to thee will changeless bind.
 

IV

 
     Of the thousand hours me meeting,
     And with gladsome promise greeting,
       One alone hath kept its faith—
     One wherein—ah, sorely grieved!—
     In my heart I first perceived
       Who for us did die the death.
 
 
     All to dust my world was beaten;
     As a worm had through them eaten
       Withered in me bud and flower;
     All my life had sought or cherished
     In the grave had sunk and perished;
       Pain sat in my ruined bower.
 
 
     While I thus, in silence sighing,
     Ever wept, on Death still crying,
       Still to sad delusions tied,
     All at once the night was cloven,
     From my grave the stone was hoven,
       And my inner doors thrown wide.
 
 
     Whom I saw, and who the other,
     Ask me not, or friend or brother!—
       Sight seen once, and evermore!
     Lone in all life’s eves and morrows,
     This hour only, like my sorrows,
       Ever shines my eyes before.
 

V

 
     If I him but have,¹
       If he be but mine,
     If my heart, hence to the grave,
       Ne’er forgets his love divine—
     Know I nought of sadness,
     Feel I nought but worship, love, and gladness.
 
 
     If I him but have,
       Pleased from all I part;
     Follow, on my pilgrim staff,
       None but him, with honest heart;
     Leave the rest, nought saying,
     On broad, bright, and crowded highways straying.
 
 
     If I him but have,
        Glad to sleep I sink;
     From his heart the flood he gave
        Shall to mine be food and drink;
     And, with sweet compelling,
     Mine shall soften, deep throughout it welling.
 
 
     If I him but have,
        Mine the world I hail;
     Happy, like a cherub grave
        Holding back the Virgin’s veil:
     I, deep sunk in gazing,
     Hear no more the Earth or its poor praising.
 
 
     Where I have but him
       Is my fatherland;
     Every gift a precious gem
       Come to me from his own hand!
     Brothers long deplored,
     Lo, in his disciples, all restored!
 

VI

 
     My faith to thee I break not,
       If all should faithless be,
     That gratitude forsake not
       The world eternally.
     For my sake Death did sting thee
       With anguish keen and sore;
     Therefore with joy I bring thee
       This heart for evermore.
 
 
     Oft weep I like a river
       That thou art dead, and yet
     So many of thine thee, Giver
       Of life, life-long forget!
     By love alone possessed,
       Such great things thou hast done!
     But thou art dead, O Blessed,
       And no one thinks thereon!
 
 
     Thou stand’st with love unshaken
       Ever by every man;
     And if by all forsaken,
       Art still the faithful one.
     Such love must win the wrestle;
       At last thy love they’ll see,
     Weep bitterly, and nestle
       Like children to thy knee.
 
 
     Thou with thy love hast found me!
       O do not let me go!
     Keep me where thou hast bound me
       Till one with thee I grow.
     My brothers yet will waken,
       One look to heaven will dart—
     Then sink down, love-o’ertaken,
       And fall upon thy heart.
 

VII.
HYMN

 
     Few understand
     The mystery of Love,
     Know insatiableness,
     And thirst eternal.
     Of the Last Supper
     The divine meaning
     Is to the earthly senses a riddle;
     But he that ever
     From warm, beloved lips,
     Drew breath of life;
     In whom the holy glow
     Ever melted the heart in trembling waves;
     Whose eye ever opened so
     As to fathom
     The bottomless deeps of heaven—
     Will eat of his body
     And drink of his blood
     Everlastingly.
     Who of the earthly body
     Has divined the lofty sense?
     Who can say
     That he understands the blood?
     One day all is body,
     One body:
     In heavenly blood
     Swims the blissful two.
 
 
     Oh that the ocean
     Were even now flushing!
     And in odorous flesh
     The rock were upswelling!
     Never endeth the sweet repast;
     Never doth Love satisfy itself;
     Never close enough, never enough its own,
     Can it have the beloved!
     By ever tenderer lips
     Transformed, the Partaken
     Goes deeper, grows nearer.
     Pleasure more ardent
     Thrills through the soul;
     Thirstier and hungrier
     Becomes the heart;
     And so endureth Love’s delight
     From everlasting to everlasting.
     Had the refraining
     Tasted but once,
     All had they left
     To set themselves down with us
     To the table of longing
     Which will never be bare;
     Then had they known Love’s
     Infinite fullness,
     And commended the sustenance
     Of body and blood.
 

VIII

 
     Weep I must—my heart runs over:
     Would he once himself discover—
       If but once, from far away!
     Holy sorrow! still prevailing
     Is my weeping, is my wailing:
       Would that I were turned to clay!
 
 
     Evermore I hear him crying
     To his Father, see him dying:
       Will this heart for ever beat!
     Will my eyes in death close never?
     Weeping all into a river
       Were a bliss for me too sweet!
 
 
     Hear I none but me bewailing?
     Dies his name an echo failing?
       Is the world at once struck dead?
     Shall I from his eyes, ah! never
     More 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 more, grows green and live;
     Full of the Spirit, all things strive
     To clasp with love the Saviour-guest,
     And offer him the mother-breast.
 
 
     Winter gives way; a year new-born
     Stands at the manger’s alter-horn;
     ‘Tis the first year of that new Earth
     Claimed by the child in right of birth.
 
 
     Our eyes they see the Saviour well,
     Yet in them doth the Saviour dwell;
     With flowers his head is wreathed about;
     From every flower himself smiles out.
 
 
     He is the star; he is the sun;
     Life’s well that evermore will run;
     From herb, stone, sea, and light’s expanse
     Glimmers his childish countenance.
 
 
     His childlike labour things to mend,
     His ardent love will never end;
     He nestles, with unconscious art,
     Divinely fast to every heart.
 
 
     To us a God, to himself a child,
     He loves us all, self un-defiled;
     Becomes our drink, becomes our food—
     His dearest thanks, a heart that’s good.
 
 
     The misery grows yet more and more;
     A gloomy grief afflicts us sore:
     Keep him no longer, Father, thus;
     He will come home again with us!