Chapter 8 Old and New Testament Studies

* * *

DAVID'S LAMENT OVER SAUL AND JONATHAN

Israel's beauty is slain

Here on Gilboa's high places,

How are the mighty fallen

And tears upon all our faces.

Tell it not now in Gath

Or in Askelon's city name it,

Lest Philistia's daughters rejoice

And with songs of triumph proclaim it.

Let there be no more dew,

Gilboa, upon thy mountains!

Over thy fields of offerings fair,

Holden be all heaven's fountains.

For there the shield of the mighty,

Even Saul's shield, to-day,

As though he was ne'er the Anointed of God,

Is vilely cast away.

Till the foe in his blood lay stricken

Or cloven through and through,

The bow of Jonathan turned not back,

The sword of Saul still slew.

Lovely were they in their lives,

In death undivided they lay,

They were swifter than mountain eagles,

Stronger than lions at bay.

[110]

Weep, ye daughters of Israel,

Weep over Saul your King,

Who clothed you with scarlet and decked you with gold

And filled you with every good thing.

How are the mighty fallen,

And all their boasts in vain!

There on Gilboa's high places,

O Jonathan, thou wast slain.

Alas! my brother Jonathan,

I am sore distressed for thee;

For thou hast been very pleasant,

Very pleasant to me.

Beyond the love of woman

Was the love that for me you bore.

How are the mighty fallen

And perished the weapons of war!

[111]

* * *

THE FIERY FURNACE

Bound into the furnace blazing

They have cast the Children Three;

But oh! miracle amazing,

They arise, unscathed and free;

While through paths of fire, to guide them,

Paths no other foot has trod-

Lo! A Fourth is seen beside them,

Shining like the Son of God.

Ah! not ours their saintly measure,

Yet 'tis still our heart's desire,

That Thou wouldst of Thy good pleasure,

Teach us, too, to walk the fire-

Living lives of stern denial,

Trusty toiler, helpmeet tried,

Till grown fit for fiery trial,

With our Saviour at our side.

[112]

* * *

RUTH AND NAOMI

When Judges ruled the tribes of Israel,

A cruel famine on the people fell,

Till even Bethlehem, the "House of Bread,"

For meat and drink at last was sore bestead.

Then when they called upon Jehovah's name,

This answer to their heart's petition came:

"Send forth your strong into the land where Lot

The might of Moab and his race begot-

"Your kinsfolk they: there still the streams run quick,

Still grass and corn are laughing high and thick."

Therefore adventuring forth, the bold and strong

Their famished flocks and herds drove each along,

Till Moab's high-set plain and warm, wide valleys

Wherefrom clear-watered Arnon westward sallies,

Rejoiced they reached: there welcome found and there

Release from want, of wealth a goodly share.

With these Elimelech and his precious ones,

His wife Naomi and his two brave sons,

Mahlon and Chilion, Jordan's shrunken tide

Crossed, and at Hesbon stayed and occupied.

And there they prospered for a blessed time

Until Elimelech in his lordly prime,

Hasting those cattle-spoilers to pursue,

The ambuscading sons of Anak slew.

Then Chilion and Mahlon, by the voice

Of their good mother guided, made their choice

Amongst the maids of Moab for their wives:

And so, a ten years' space lived joyful lives.

Till pestilence o'ertook the brothers; naught

Of wives' or mothers' care availed them aught,

But, blessing both, their sight was quenched in gloom;

Three widows wept o'er their untimely tomb.

Then when their days of mourning now were o'er,

Fresh tidings came from Jordan's further shore:

"Judaea's years of famine now are passed,

[113] And joyous plenty crowns her fields at last."

Naomi then outspake: "Dear daughters lone,

Yea, dearer for their sakes who now are gone

Than if indeed ye were my very own

Born children, hearken to Naomi's voice

Who of all Moabs' maids made you her choice!

"Good wives and fond, as ever cherished

Husband, were ye unto my two sons dead,

Diligent weavers of their household wool,

True joy-mates when their cup of bliss was full,

Kind comforters in sorrow or in pain.

Alloy was none, but one to mar life's golden chain.

"No child, dear Orpah, loving Ruth, have ye

To suckle or to dance upon your knee,

No other sons have I your hearts to woo-

Grandchildren can be none from me to you.

Therefore, my daughters, O, consider well

Since you are young, and fair and so excel

In every homecraft, were it not more wise

No longer to refuse to turn your eyes

Towards the suitors brave who, now your days

Of mourning are accomplished, fix their gaze

Upon your goings? Verily now 'twere right

That you should each a noble Moabite

Espouse, till, with another's love accost,

Your childless grief in motherhood be lost.

And I, why should I tarry longer here

To be a burden on you year by year?

Kinsfolk and friends have I at Bethlehem

Where plenty reigns; I will go back to them-"

Then much they both besought her to remain,

And yet her purpose neither could restrain;

Therefore her goods to gather she began

Against the passing of the caravan.

But Ruth and Orpah each prepared also

Beside her unto Bethlehem to go.

And now the three stand ready, full of tears

To quit the haunts of happy married years,

The tombs that hid their lost ones. Staunchly then

[114] Naomi spoke her purpose once again:

"Daughters, turn back, each to her mother's house

To take the rest that there her work allows,

And in due course a second husband find,

Nor be unto the future foolish-blind!

Yet take a blessing from the heart of hearts

Of your Naomi ere she hence departs."

She blessed them, and with voices lifted up

In loud lament the dregs of sorrow's cup

They drained together. Orpah, weeping, turned

And slowly went, but Ruth with eyes that yearned

Into Naomi's, cried aloud in pain:

"Thus to forsake thee, urge me not again,

Nor to return from following after thee!

For where thou goest, I will surely go.

And where thou lodgest, will I lodge also!

Thy people shall be my people evermore,

And thy God only will I now adore!

And where thou diest, I will buried be!

So may Jehovah strike me with his thunder,

If aught but only death our lives shall sunder."

Ruth's lips have sealed that solemn covenant,

Then with Naomi hand in hand she went.

But as they slept that night there came to each

The selfsame vision, though they ne'er had speech

Thereon, till Obed's birth, Ruth's only son

And David's grandsire; for they each saw one

With Mahlon's aspect seated in the skies,

And on his knees a babe with Ruth's own eyes,

And by the infant's side one with a face

Ruddy and bold, a form of Kingly grace,

And in his hand a harp wherefrom he drew

Marvellous music while his songs thereto

Held hosts of angels hearkening in the blue.

Then figures floated o'er him faint and far

Up to a Child who rode upon a star,

And in the Heavenly wonder of his face,

They read the Ransom of the Human Race.

[115]

* * *

THE LILIES OF THE FIELD AND THE FOWLS OF THE AIR

"Consider the lilies!" He spake as yet spake no man:

"Consider the lilies, the lilies of the leas,

They toil not, they spin not, like you, tired man and woman,

Yet Solomon in his glory was not robed like one of these.

"Consider the lilies! Sure, if your Heavenly Father

So clothe the meadow grasses that here flower free of scathe

And to-morrow light the oven, now, say, shall he not rather

Still of His goodness clothe you, O ye of little faith?

"Consider the fowls of the air, behind your harrows;

They plough not, they reap not, nor gather grain away,

Yet your Heavenly Father cares for them; then, if he feed the sparrows,

Shall He not rather feed you, His children, day by day?"

[116]

* * *

THE GOOD PHYSICIAN

To find Him they flock, young and old, from their cities,

With hearts full of hope: for the tidings had spread:

"The proud He rebukes and the poorest He pities,

Recovers the leper, upraises the dead."

So the shepherd has left his sheep lone on the mountain,

The woodman his axe buried fast in the pine,

The maiden her pitcher half-filled at the fountain,

The housewife her loom and the fisher his line.

With their babes on their bosoms, their sick on their shoulders,

Toilsomely thronging by footpath and ford,

Now resting their burthens among the rude boulders,

Still they come climbing in search of the Lord.

Until on the Mount, with the morn they have found Him-

Christ, the long sought-they have found Him at length,

With their sick and their stricken, in faith they flock round Him,

As sighing He looks up to Heaven for strength.

He has touched the deaf ears and the blind eyes anointed-

And straightway they hear Him and straightway they see;

Laid hands on the lame and they leap, supple-jointed,

The devils denounced and affrighted they flee.

Yea? for their faith, from each life-long affliction,

Yea, for their faith from their sins they are freed,

And therefore have earned His divine benediction-

* * *

Stretch forth Thy hand, for as sore is our need.

Lord! we are deaf, we are dumb, lost in blindness,

Lepers and lame and by demons possessed!

Lord, we are dead! of Thine infinite kindness

Restore us, redeem! bear us home on Thy breast.

[117]

* * *

THE SOWER

A Sower went forth to sow,

But His seed on the wayside showered;

A bird-flock out of the air flashed low

And the goodly grain devoured.

A Sower went forth to sow,

O'er hid rocks plying his toil;

The seed leaped up at the warm sun's glow,

But withered for lack of soil.

A Sower went forth to sow,

And his seed took steadfast root;

But flaming poppies and thorns in row

Sprang up and strangled the fruit.

A Sower went forth to sow,

And at last his joy he found;

For his good seed's generous overflow

Sank deep into gracious ground.

Lord, when we look back on our lives,

With penitent sighs and tears,

Our evil that with Thee strives and strives

In Thy parable's truth appears.

As the wayside hard were our hearts,

Where Thy good seed lightly lay,

For the Devil's flock, as it downward darts,

To bruise and to bear away.

Thy winged words falling nigher

Sprang up in our souls with haste,

But they could not endure temptation's fire

And withered and went to waste.

[118]

Within us Thy word once more

Thou sowest, but-sore beset

With worldly weeds-for Thy threshing floor

Shall it ever ripen yet?

Yea, Lord, it shall if Thou please,

In passionate, patient prayer,

To draw the nation upon its knees

And fill it with Heavenly care.

And so shall we all arise

In the joy of a soul's re-birth

To hold a communion with the skies

That shall bring down Heaven to earth.

[119]

* * *

THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN

(From the Scotch Gaelic)

Tedious grew the time to me

Within the Courts of Blessing;

My secure felicity,

For folly I forswore;

Vain delusion wrought my woe

Till now, in want distressing,

I go begging to and fro

Upon an alien shore.

In my dear old home of peace,

Around my father's table

Many a servant sits at ease

And eats and drinks his fill;

While within a filthy stall

With loathsome swine I stable,

Sin-defiled and scorned of all

To starve on husk and swill.

Ah, how well I mind me

Of the happy days gone over!

Love was then behind me,

Before me, and around;

Then, light as air, I leapt,

A laughing little rover,

Now dull and heavy-stepped

I pace this desert ground.

Sin with flattering offers came;

Against my Sire rebelling

I yielded my good name

At the Tempter's easy smile;

In fields that were not ours,

Brighter blooming, richer smelling,

I ravished virgin flowers

With a heart full of guile.

'Twas thus an open shame

In the sight of all the Noble,

Yea! a monster I became,

[120] Till my gold ceased to flow,

And my fine fair-weather friends

Turned their backs upon my trouble.

Now an outcast to Earth's ends

Under misery I go.

Yet though bitter my disgrace,

Than every ill severer

Is the thought of the face

Of the Sire for whom I long.

I shall see Him no more

Though to me he now is dearer

Than he ever was, before

I wrought him such wrong.

And yet ere I die

I will journey forth to meet him.

Home I will hie,

For he yet may be won.

For Pardon and Peace

My soul will entreat him,

"Father, have grace

On thy Prodigal Son!"

Could I get near enough

To send him a message-

I keeping far off-

He would not say me nay.

In some little nook

He would find me a living

And let none be driving

His shamed son away.

The Penitent arose,

His scalding tears blinding him;

Hope's ray lit his way

As homeward he pressed.

Afar off his father's

Fond eyes are finding him,

And the old man gathers

His boy to his breast.

[121]

* * *

ST. MARY MAGDALEN

They who have loved the most

The most have been forgiven,

And with the Devil's host

Most mightily have striven.

And so it was of old

With her, once all unclean,

Now of the saints white-stoled-

Mary, the Magdalen.

For though in Satan's power

She seemed for ever fast,

Her Saviour in one hour

Seven devils from her cast.

O'erburthened by the weight

Of her black bosom sin,

As Christ with Simon sate

At meat, she had stolen in.

Toward her Lord she drew;

She knelt by Him unchid;

The latchet of His shoe

Her trembling hands undid.

Foot-water none was by

Nor towel, as was meet,

To comfort and to dry

His hot way-weary feet;

But with her blinding tears

She bathes them now instead,

And dries them with the hairs

Of her abased head.

And so, when Simon looked,

And pondered, evil-eyed,

No longer Jesus brooked

His thought, but thus replied;

"Simon, no kiss of peace

Thou gav'st me at thy door,

No oil, my head to ease,

[122] Didst thou upon it pour,

Nay, for thy bidden guest

So little hast thou cared,

His weary feet to rest

No bath hadst thou prepared;

Yet hath this woman here,

By thee with scorn decried,

Washed them with many a tear,

And with her tresses dried,

And given them, from her store

Of spikenard, cool relief,

And kissed them o'er and o'er

In penitential grief.

Therefore her joy begins,

Her prayer is heard in heaven;

Though many are her sins,

They all shall be forgiven!"

Scant mercy he receives

Whose love for God is small;

But he whom God forgives

The most, loves most of all.

[123]

* * *