THE OIL OF MERCY.
Many beauteous spots the earthKeepeth yet,—but brighter, fairerDid that long-lost Eden showThan the loveliest that remaineth:So what marvel, when our SireWas from thence expelled, he waitedLingering with a fond regretRound those blessèd happy placesOnce his home, while innocenceWas his bright sufficient raiment?Long he lingered there, and sawUp from dark abysmal spacesFour strong rivers rushing ever;Saw the mighty wall exaltedHigh as heaven, and on its heightsGlimpses of the fiery Angel.Long he lingered near, with hopeWhich had never quite abated,That one day the righteous sentence,Dooming him to stern disgraces,Should be disannulled, and heIn his first bliss reinstated.But when mortal pangs surprised him,By an unseen foe assailèd,Seth he called, his dearest son,Called him to his side, and faintlyHim addressed—“My son, thou knowestOf what sufferings partaker,Of what weariness and toil,Of what sickness, pain and dangerI have been, since that sad hourThat from Eden’s precincts drave me.But thou dost not know that God,When to exile forth I farèd,Houseless wanderer through the world,Thus with gracious speech bespake me:—‘Though thou mayst not here continue,In these blessèd happy places,As before from pain exempt,Suffering, toil, and mortal ailment,Think not thou shalt therefore beOf my loving care forsaken:Rather shall that tree of life,In the middle garden planted,Once a precious balm distil,Which to thee applied, thine ailmentsShall be all removed, and thouMade of endless life partaker.’—With these words he cheered me then,Words that have remained engravenOn my bosom’s tablets since.Go then, dear my son, oh hastenUnto Eden’s guarded gate,Tell thine errand to the Angel;And that fiery sentinelTo the tree will guide thee safely,Where it stands, aloft, alone,In the garden’s middle spaces:Thence bring back that oil of mercy,Ere my lamp of life be wasted.”When his father’s feeble wordsSeth had heard, at once he hastened,Hoping to bring back that oil,Ere the light had wholly fadedFrom his father’s eyes, the lampOf his life had wholly wasted.O’er the plain besprent with flowers,With ten thousand colours paintedIn that spring-time of the year,By Thelassar on he hastened,Made no pause, till Eden’s wallRose an ever verdant barrier,High as heaven’s great roof, that shinesWith its bright carbuncles paven.There the son of Adam paused,For above him hung the AngelIn the middle air suspense,With his swift sword glancing naked.Down upon his face he fellBy the sun-bright vision dazèd.“Child of man”—these words he heard,“Rise, and say what thing thou cravest?”All his father’s need he told,And how now his father waited,In his mighty agonyFor that medicine yearning greatly.“But thou seekest” (this replyThen he heard) “thou seekest vainlyFor that oil of mercy yet,Nor will tears nor prayers avail thee.Go then quickly back, and bringThese my words to him,thyparent,Parent of the race of men.He and they in faith and patienceMust abide, long years must beEre the precious fruit be gathered,Ere the oil of mercy flowFrom the blessèd tree and sacredIn the Paradise of God:Nor till then will be obtainèdThe strong medicine of life,Healing every mortal ailment,Nor thy sire till then be madeOf immortal life a sharer.Fear not that his heart will sinkWhen these tidings back thou bearest,Rather thou shalt straightway seeAll his fears and pangs abated,And by faith allayed to meeknessEvery wish and thought impatient.Hasten back then—thy return,Strongly yearning, he awaiteth:Hasten back then.”—On the wordTo his father back he hastened,Found him waiting his returnIn his agony, his latest:Told him of what grace to come,Of what sure hope he was bearer—Saw him, when that word was spoke,Every fear and pang assuagèd,And by faith allayed to meekness,Every wish and thought impatient,Like a child resign himselfUnto sweet sleep, calm and painless.
Many beauteous spots the earthKeepeth yet,—but brighter, fairerDid that long-lost Eden showThan the loveliest that remaineth:So what marvel, when our SireWas from thence expelled, he waitedLingering with a fond regretRound those blessèd happy placesOnce his home, while innocenceWas his bright sufficient raiment?Long he lingered there, and sawUp from dark abysmal spacesFour strong rivers rushing ever;Saw the mighty wall exaltedHigh as heaven, and on its heightsGlimpses of the fiery Angel.Long he lingered near, with hopeWhich had never quite abated,That one day the righteous sentence,Dooming him to stern disgraces,Should be disannulled, and heIn his first bliss reinstated.But when mortal pangs surprised him,By an unseen foe assailèd,Seth he called, his dearest son,Called him to his side, and faintlyHim addressed—“My son, thou knowestOf what sufferings partaker,Of what weariness and toil,Of what sickness, pain and dangerI have been, since that sad hourThat from Eden’s precincts drave me.But thou dost not know that God,When to exile forth I farèd,Houseless wanderer through the world,Thus with gracious speech bespake me:—‘Though thou mayst not here continue,In these blessèd happy places,As before from pain exempt,Suffering, toil, and mortal ailment,Think not thou shalt therefore beOf my loving care forsaken:Rather shall that tree of life,In the middle garden planted,Once a precious balm distil,Which to thee applied, thine ailmentsShall be all removed, and thouMade of endless life partaker.’—With these words he cheered me then,Words that have remained engravenOn my bosom’s tablets since.Go then, dear my son, oh hastenUnto Eden’s guarded gate,Tell thine errand to the Angel;And that fiery sentinelTo the tree will guide thee safely,Where it stands, aloft, alone,In the garden’s middle spaces:Thence bring back that oil of mercy,Ere my lamp of life be wasted.”When his father’s feeble wordsSeth had heard, at once he hastened,Hoping to bring back that oil,Ere the light had wholly fadedFrom his father’s eyes, the lampOf his life had wholly wasted.O’er the plain besprent with flowers,With ten thousand colours paintedIn that spring-time of the year,By Thelassar on he hastened,Made no pause, till Eden’s wallRose an ever verdant barrier,High as heaven’s great roof, that shinesWith its bright carbuncles paven.There the son of Adam paused,For above him hung the AngelIn the middle air suspense,With his swift sword glancing naked.Down upon his face he fellBy the sun-bright vision dazèd.“Child of man”—these words he heard,“Rise, and say what thing thou cravest?”All his father’s need he told,And how now his father waited,In his mighty agonyFor that medicine yearning greatly.“But thou seekest” (this replyThen he heard) “thou seekest vainlyFor that oil of mercy yet,Nor will tears nor prayers avail thee.Go then quickly back, and bringThese my words to him,thyparent,Parent of the race of men.He and they in faith and patienceMust abide, long years must beEre the precious fruit be gathered,Ere the oil of mercy flowFrom the blessèd tree and sacredIn the Paradise of God:Nor till then will be obtainèdThe strong medicine of life,Healing every mortal ailment,Nor thy sire till then be madeOf immortal life a sharer.Fear not that his heart will sinkWhen these tidings back thou bearest,Rather thou shalt straightway seeAll his fears and pangs abated,And by faith allayed to meeknessEvery wish and thought impatient.Hasten back then—thy return,Strongly yearning, he awaiteth:Hasten back then.”—On the wordTo his father back he hastened,Found him waiting his returnIn his agony, his latest:Told him of what grace to come,Of what sure hope he was bearer—Saw him, when that word was spoke,Every fear and pang assuagèd,And by faith allayed to meekness,Every wish and thought impatient,Like a child resign himselfUnto sweet sleep, calm and painless.
Many beauteous spots the earthKeepeth yet,—but brighter, fairerDid that long-lost Eden showThan the loveliest that remaineth:So what marvel, when our SireWas from thence expelled, he waitedLingering with a fond regretRound those blessèd happy placesOnce his home, while innocenceWas his bright sufficient raiment?Long he lingered there, and sawUp from dark abysmal spacesFour strong rivers rushing ever;Saw the mighty wall exaltedHigh as heaven, and on its heightsGlimpses of the fiery Angel.
Many beauteous spots the earth
Keepeth yet,—but brighter, fairer
Did that long-lost Eden show
Than the loveliest that remaineth:
So what marvel, when our Sire
Was from thence expelled, he waited
Lingering with a fond regret
Round those blessèd happy places
Once his home, while innocence
Was his bright sufficient raiment?
Long he lingered there, and saw
Up from dark abysmal spaces
Four strong rivers rushing ever;
Saw the mighty wall exalted
High as heaven, and on its heights
Glimpses of the fiery Angel.
Long he lingered near, with hopeWhich had never quite abated,That one day the righteous sentence,Dooming him to stern disgraces,Should be disannulled, and heIn his first bliss reinstated.
Long he lingered near, with hope
Which had never quite abated,
That one day the righteous sentence,
Dooming him to stern disgraces,
Should be disannulled, and he
In his first bliss reinstated.
But when mortal pangs surprised him,By an unseen foe assailèd,Seth he called, his dearest son,Called him to his side, and faintlyHim addressed—“My son, thou knowestOf what sufferings partaker,Of what weariness and toil,Of what sickness, pain and dangerI have been, since that sad hourThat from Eden’s precincts drave me.But thou dost not know that God,When to exile forth I farèd,Houseless wanderer through the world,Thus with gracious speech bespake me:—‘Though thou mayst not here continue,In these blessèd happy places,As before from pain exempt,Suffering, toil, and mortal ailment,Think not thou shalt therefore beOf my loving care forsaken:Rather shall that tree of life,In the middle garden planted,Once a precious balm distil,Which to thee applied, thine ailmentsShall be all removed, and thouMade of endless life partaker.’—With these words he cheered me then,Words that have remained engravenOn my bosom’s tablets since.Go then, dear my son, oh hastenUnto Eden’s guarded gate,Tell thine errand to the Angel;And that fiery sentinelTo the tree will guide thee safely,Where it stands, aloft, alone,In the garden’s middle spaces:Thence bring back that oil of mercy,Ere my lamp of life be wasted.”
But when mortal pangs surprised him,
By an unseen foe assailèd,
Seth he called, his dearest son,
Called him to his side, and faintly
Him addressed—“My son, thou knowest
Of what sufferings partaker,
Of what weariness and toil,
Of what sickness, pain and danger
I have been, since that sad hour
That from Eden’s precincts drave me.
But thou dost not know that God,
When to exile forth I farèd,
Houseless wanderer through the world,
Thus with gracious speech bespake me:
—‘Though thou mayst not here continue,
In these blessèd happy places,
As before from pain exempt,
Suffering, toil, and mortal ailment,
Think not thou shalt therefore be
Of my loving care forsaken:
Rather shall that tree of life,
In the middle garden planted,
Once a precious balm distil,
Which to thee applied, thine ailments
Shall be all removed, and thou
Made of endless life partaker.’—
With these words he cheered me then,
Words that have remained engraven
On my bosom’s tablets since.
Go then, dear my son, oh hasten
Unto Eden’s guarded gate,
Tell thine errand to the Angel;
And that fiery sentinel
To the tree will guide thee safely,
Where it stands, aloft, alone,
In the garden’s middle spaces:
Thence bring back that oil of mercy,
Ere my lamp of life be wasted.”
When his father’s feeble wordsSeth had heard, at once he hastened,Hoping to bring back that oil,Ere the light had wholly fadedFrom his father’s eyes, the lampOf his life had wholly wasted.O’er the plain besprent with flowers,With ten thousand colours paintedIn that spring-time of the year,By Thelassar on he hastened,Made no pause, till Eden’s wallRose an ever verdant barrier,High as heaven’s great roof, that shinesWith its bright carbuncles paven.There the son of Adam paused,For above him hung the AngelIn the middle air suspense,With his swift sword glancing naked.Down upon his face he fellBy the sun-bright vision dazèd.“Child of man”—these words he heard,“Rise, and say what thing thou cravest?”
When his father’s feeble words
Seth had heard, at once he hastened,
Hoping to bring back that oil,
Ere the light had wholly faded
From his father’s eyes, the lamp
Of his life had wholly wasted.
O’er the plain besprent with flowers,
With ten thousand colours painted
In that spring-time of the year,
By Thelassar on he hastened,
Made no pause, till Eden’s wall
Rose an ever verdant barrier,
High as heaven’s great roof, that shines
With its bright carbuncles paven.
There the son of Adam paused,
For above him hung the Angel
In the middle air suspense,
With his swift sword glancing naked.
Down upon his face he fell
By the sun-bright vision dazèd.
“Child of man”—these words he heard,
“Rise, and say what thing thou cravest?”
All his father’s need he told,And how now his father waited,In his mighty agonyFor that medicine yearning greatly.“But thou seekest” (this replyThen he heard) “thou seekest vainlyFor that oil of mercy yet,Nor will tears nor prayers avail thee.Go then quickly back, and bringThese my words to him,thyparent,Parent of the race of men.He and they in faith and patienceMust abide, long years must beEre the precious fruit be gathered,Ere the oil of mercy flowFrom the blessèd tree and sacredIn the Paradise of God:Nor till then will be obtainèdThe strong medicine of life,Healing every mortal ailment,Nor thy sire till then be madeOf immortal life a sharer.Fear not that his heart will sinkWhen these tidings back thou bearest,Rather thou shalt straightway seeAll his fears and pangs abated,And by faith allayed to meeknessEvery wish and thought impatient.Hasten back then—thy return,Strongly yearning, he awaiteth:Hasten back then.”—On the wordTo his father back he hastened,Found him waiting his returnIn his agony, his latest:Told him of what grace to come,Of what sure hope he was bearer—Saw him, when that word was spoke,Every fear and pang assuagèd,And by faith allayed to meekness,Every wish and thought impatient,Like a child resign himselfUnto sweet sleep, calm and painless.
All his father’s need he told,
And how now his father waited,
In his mighty agony
For that medicine yearning greatly.
“But thou seekest” (this reply
Then he heard) “thou seekest vainly
For that oil of mercy yet,
Nor will tears nor prayers avail thee.
Go then quickly back, and bring
These my words to him,thyparent,
Parent of the race of men.
He and they in faith and patience
Must abide, long years must be
Ere the precious fruit be gathered,
Ere the oil of mercy flow
From the blessèd tree and sacred
In the Paradise of God:
Nor till then will be obtainèd
The strong medicine of life,
Healing every mortal ailment,
Nor thy sire till then be made
Of immortal life a sharer.
Fear not that his heart will sink
When these tidings back thou bearest,
Rather thou shalt straightway see
All his fears and pangs abated,
And by faith allayed to meekness
Every wish and thought impatient.
Hasten back then—thy return,
Strongly yearning, he awaiteth:
Hasten back then.”—On the word
To his father back he hastened,
Found him waiting his return
In his agony, his latest:
Told him of what grace to come,
Of what sure hope he was bearer—
Saw him, when that word was spoke,
Every fear and pang assuagèd,
And by faith allayed to meekness,
Every wish and thought impatient,
Like a child resign himself
Unto sweet sleep, calm and painless.