Yesterday, To-Day, And For Ever: Book X. - The Millennial Sabbath Poem by Edward Henry Bickersteth

A Sabbath morn - softly the village bells
Ring out their welcome to the sacred day.
The weary swain has drunk of longer sleep,
And now, his children clustering round him, leads
The happy group from under his low porch
And through their little garden, where each plucks
A rose or pansy, to the school they love:
The busy hum delights his ear; and soon
The morning hymn floats heavenward; but himself
Holding the youngest prattler in his arms,
Waits in the churchyard, where about him lie
His father and his father's fathers, till,
The children following their pastor's steps
Whose gray locks flutter in the summer breeze,
All pass beneath the hallow'd roof, and all
Kneeling, where generations past have knelt,
Pour forth their common wants in common prayer.
A rural Sabbath - nearest type of heaven:
Yet scarcely less beloved in toilworn courts
And alleys of the city. What true heart
Loves not the Sabbath? that dear pledge of home;
That trysting-place of God and man: that link
Betwixt a near eternity and time;
That almost lonely rivulet, which flows
From Eden through the world's wide wastes of sand
Uncheck'd, and though not unalloy'd with earth
Its healing waters all impregn'd with life,
The life of their first blessing, to pure lips
The memory of a bygone Paradise,
The earnest of a Paradise to come.
Who know thee best, love best, thou pearl of days,
And guard thee with most jealous care from morn
Till dewy evening, when the ceaseless play
Hour after hour of thy sweet influences
Has tuned the heart of pilgrims to the songs
And music of their heavenly fatherland.
But mortal ears are heavy', and mortal eyes
Catch only glimpses dim and indistinct
Of things unseen, beauteous but far away;
Enough to quicken, but not satiate love:
And the soon weary spirit exhausted sighs
For wings to flee away and be at rest,
Or solaces its musings, there remains
A Sabbath for the toiling Church of God.

It dawn'd at last. But not, as many thought
And fabling sang, the amber twilight flowing
More and more radiant in the Eastern heavens,
Till almost imperceptibly the sun
Should glide above the golden hyaline,
And straightway what remain'd of dark be light.
But rather now the angry thunder-clouds,
Which for six thousand years in broken drifts
Had roll'd athwart earth's troubled firmament,
Portended unexampled storms; so dark
That masses of disastrous gloom, that hung
Over all lands. Was it heaven's blessed light,
That shone behind and through their sepulchurous folds?
And could this bloody fiery haze be day?

Ah, woe for Zion! for the hills that rise
Like ramparts round about Jerusalem;
Where, as a flock of timid goats or sheep
Driven by fierce wolves together to one fold
Ill-fenced for such an onset, Israel cower'd,
Contrite and crush'd in bitterness of soul!
Jerusalem, thy hour is come. Lo, Gog,
The prince of Rosh, Meshech and Tubal's prince,
In panoply of impious pride leads forth
His hungry myriads to Emmanuel's land,
Gomer and all its swarming multitudes,
Togarmah and its rugged uncouth hordes,
Elam, and Phut, and Lud, and Javan's isles,
Asshur, and Shinar, and the tents of Cush,
Myriads of myriads, numbers numberless,
From North and South and East, three dreadful hosts,
The least of which earth never saw the like,
Muster'd by hell to quench on Zion's heights,
Despite that lonely prophet's words, the last
Faint glimmering brands of truth. So Satan ween'd,
And in their aid had gather'd from all lands
And airy realms, where they in secret wrought,
The spirits of ill. Not one was wanting there:
Foul and obscured by centuries of crime,
But with unmitigated rage they came,
Unweeting for their common doom compell'd.
Scent they afar the field of blood? for now
Those chafing hosts, by wrath and lust inspired,
Like beasts of ravin, burst on Israel's camp,
And gorge themselves with slaughter. Woe for thee,
O Zion! woe for thee, Jerusalem!
Thy birth-pangs are upon thee; and thy cries
Reach to the heavens. Jerusalem is fallen.
The iron rives her heart. Her little ones
Are dash'd in fury on the cruel rocks.
Her virgins, and her mothers great with child,
Speak not of them. Her priests and elders lie,
Their silvery reverend hair defiled with blood,
Even where they fell, upon the ghastly hills.
Fire wraps her ramparts round: the clouds are live
With vengeance; and the stars shoot withering flame;
And her slain armies block the narrow gates
And causeways of the city: for the cup
Of her last agony is in her hand,
And now she drinks it to the bitter dregs.

A shout of fiendish triumph! They have storm'd
With ruinous battering-rams the temple doors,
And now upon the holiest mercy-seat,
Betwixt the golden cherubim, install
The proud usurper of Jehovah's name:
And out of human lips there came a voice,
Like man's voice, from the trinity of hell
Within that breast, three voices heard as one,
Most terrible: 'This is the hour of fate.
God has abandon'd earth; and I assume
The vacant throne of vanquish'd Deity.
Worship me, all ye gods.' Straightway arose
The swell of adoration; and the hosts
Of darkness, mingling with the sons of men,
Sang triumph to the three in equal strains,
'Hail, Satan, Ashtaroth, and Baalim!
Triunity of darkness, hail, all hail!'
But, even as the echoes sank, behold,
Tyrannic jealousy, too long suppress'd,
Burst forth, as nitrous powder touch'd by flame,
In Satan's heart; - torment intolerable! -
Ah, fool! to think that concord, born of heaven,
Could bind in lasting league infernal hate! -
Thus pondering, - 'Was it then for this I left
My archangelic primacy of light?
In realms of darkness to be one of three?
One of three only? I, who know myself
Worthy of monarchy? Monarch I am,
And will be: none shall share my gloomy throne,
Dark, solitary, unapproachable.'

Nor Baalim, meanwhile, that lordly fiend,
Conceived less envy of great Ashtaroth,
Nor Ashtaroth of him: which Satan saw
Well pleased, and now dilated rose sublime,
Hovering on what appear'd cherubic wings,
Above the clouds, and fostering, as he rose,
The horrid feud in his associate gods,
Till envy grew to wrath, and wrath to rage,
And rage to deadly warfare. They, for oft
Passions with spirits are instantaneous acts,
And thoughts are deeds, in no unequal strife
Guile match'd with guile, might militant with might,
Wrestled within that narrow battle-field,
The impious breast of Antichrist, until
Their miserable victim foaming writhed
Convulsed, and strengthless lay as dead; and then,
Each on his fellow scowling dire revenge,
Forth from that fleshly tenement they came,
And parted right and left. Flock'd around each
An army of the rebel spirits. Swords flash'd
Infernal fires; and in the sulphurous air
The embattled clouds were squadrons lock'd in fight.
By Satan both infuriate, who thus
Madly against himself divided fought
A duel ghastlier far than that which drench'd
The ramparts of Jerusalem with blood,
And from the trembling fugitives, who cower'd
Behind Elijah's mantle, wrung the cry,
'How long, O Lord, how long? Why tarriest Thou?'

That hour, what time the hideous din of war,
Fiends in their fury' o'ershadowing furious men,
Was at its worst, a blast more terrible
Than all the dread artillery of earth,
Vomiting iron hail in one discharge,
Appall'd the firmament. A silence fell
Sudden, as if all hearts had ceased to beat,
Upon the madding combatants: and lo,
The sound of distant chariot-wheels was heard
Rolling in heaven. Nearer and nearer still
The rush of flaming millions, and the tramp
Like as of fiery chivalry. But, hark!
A voice: it is the shout of God. Behold!
A light: it is the glory of the Lord.
And thither, where the marshall'd hosts of hell
Opposed the densest gloom, onward He rode
Almighty, - a devouring fire, - no room
For flight, no space for idle penitence,
No thought of prayer, no lurking-place to shun
The lightnings of His omnipresent Eye.
First as it seem'd (though sequence in the acts
Of the Eternal needs not lapse of time)
Upon the rebel spirits He rain'd His wrath,
Till from the mightiest to the least they lay
Under His fiery horse-hoofs crush'd. Of all
From hell's dark triad singling Baalim
And Ashtaroth in everlasting chains,
Chains such as spiritual essences may hold,
These twain He bound, and, stamping with His foot,
Asunder by the act appear'd to cleave
Whate'er subtle or solid lay betwixt
His presence and Gehenna's burning floor:
And in the right hand of Omnipotence
Grasping huge Baalim, and in the left
The lustful Ashtaroth, He hurled them down
Like meteors through the lurid vault, and fix'd
Their adamantine fetters to a rock
Of adamant, submerged but unconsumed
Beneath the lake of fire. Nor paused He then,
But pointing where the vanquish'd Arch-fiend lay
Crouching in agony, bade Michael seize
The spiritless spirit of evil, and convoy
Him and the countless myriads of the lost
In chains to their Tartarean prison. Straightway
The God-like chief descending with the key
Of Hades and a ponderous chain, to which
Earth's mightiest cable were a strand of tow,
Grasp'd his dread captive, once his peerless peer
In glory, now his miserable prey,
And bore him manacled and fetter'd forth,
And with him his dejected hosts, beneath
An equal escort of angelic guards,
To their own place of doom. Oh dreadful march!
O yet more dreadful issue! Hell had seen
Terrific sights ere now, within her depths
Receiving ruin like this. For lo, meanwhile
The King of glory, on the chariot clouds
Riding serene, shot blasts of flaming fire,
As from a furnace, from His opening lips
On Israel's conquerors. The murderer's arm
Was stricken in the very act to strike:
The ravisher was rapt by death, and lay
Blasted before his shrieking captive's feet:
And to the wild and dissonant cries of men,
Calling upon their gods, the sole response
Which heaven, too long insulted, now vouchsafed
Was storm, and tempest, and hot burning coals -
Horrible hail. Nor only on the hills
Of Judah fell the whirlwind of God's wrath,
But through all lands and seas (for the whole earth
From pole to pole was wrapt in clouds and flame)
Whoever bore the mark of Baalim,
Or bow'd the knee to Ashtaroth, on him
The wrath-beam fell, distinguishing the rest
Who, though they knew not fellowship with God,
Knew not communion with the spirits of hell.
Wherefore not ruin'd fiends alone that day
Were captive led captivity, and throng'd
The roadway to the abysmal pit with groans,
But with them crowds of disembodied souls,
Such as till now the portals of the grave
And never received, a hideous spectacle,
Each heart a fathomless profound of woe,
Each spirit the wreck of everlasting life.

How art thou fallen, Lucifer, from heaven,
Son of the Morning! Hell beneath is moved
To meet thee at thy coming; and the dead,
The chiefs and potentates of elder time,
Stirr'd from the silent calm of their despair,
Flock round thee. Narrowly they scan thy face,
And ask, astonied, 'Art thou one of us?
All heartless, nerveless, passionless as we?
Thou that would'st wrestle with Omnipotence,
And plant thy seat above the stars of God,
And soar beyond the azure clouds that veil
The throne of the Eternal?'

Through their ranks
By Michael led, with downcast louring looks,
To his own place of woe. Over against
The fissure, where the brazen floor of hell
Yawn'd to receive his ruin'd mates in guilt,
And yawning closed again, there was he bound
In adamantine fetters, and beneath
The unclouded terrors of the Eye of God.
And next to him was Moloch, his swarth brow
Darken'd with tenfold gloom: and next to him
Mammon, whose boundless wealth of artifice
Purchased no solace in this house of chains:
And next, ruthless Apollyon, - he who show'd
No mercy found none here. Nor far away
Was Samuel, blind leader of the blind;
Nor Lailah, prince of night. But why prolong
Memorials of the damn'd, or fiends, or men?
Or measure their immeasurable loss,
Immeasurable, hopeless, limitless,
Who lay in torments, prisoners of wrath,
Waiting the judgement of the last assize?

Meanwhile Messiah, from the tempest clouds
Descending, calm'd the terrors of His brow,
And drew His garment of celestial light
About Him, rainbow-fringed, until His feet
Rested on Olivet. Beneath Him lay
Jerusalem in flames, and all the air
Glow'd with intensity of heat. But lo,
His people underneath his shadowing wings,
And hidden in the hollow of His hand,
The remnant which the sword of war had left,
Felt not the breath of those devouring flames,
Heard not the roar of those wild cataracts
Of fire, nor knew what time the solid earth
Was moved as ocean by the wintry wind.
They only saw Messiah's glorious form;
They only heard His voice; they only knew,
As the three children in the burning kiln,
That they were with their Lord, their Lord with them.
Other spectators than the Bride were none,
When now, as once in Egypt's royal courts
Young Joseph drew his brethren to his heart
And kiss'd and wept upon them tears of joy,
The Prince of glory veil'd His glory' anew
In tenderness of most forgiving love.
But when the dreadful cloud of fire and smoke,
Which brooded on those hills, was clear'd, behold
The mountain of the Lord had risen sublime
Above the mountains: Olivet was cleft
Asunder to the North and to the South;
And a vast vale, with sudden verdure clad,
Stretch'd toward the former and the hinder sea,
A paradise of fruits. And far aloof
Mount Zion, marvellous to see, was crown'd
With a resplendent city (whether this
Were the immediate handiwork of God,
Or of angelic ministries) where shone
Like gold a temple supereminent
In dazzling sheen, and thence on either side
A river of perennial waters flow'd
In ever-deepening waves of crystal life.

The voice o' the Lord is on the waters! Hark,
Not now in thunder with red lightnings wing'd,
Making the everlasting mountains bow
And the scathed forests shiver: but hark, a Voice
Is heard above the troubled elements,
A low clear Voice, which whispers, 'Peace, be still.'
And all the winds have sunk to gentle breaths.
And, as on vex'd Gennesaret of old
When He rebuked the raging winds and waves,
There is a mighty calm. The broken clouds
Melt into colors, like a dream. The Sun
Of righteousness with healing in His wings
Has risen upon a world weary of night,
Most glorious, where emergent from the flood,
That from far Lebanon to Kadesh roll'd
Its waves of fire baptismal, Zion rose
In perfect beauty. There the Light of Light
Entering His temple courts assumed His throne,
And from the unveil'd golden mercy-seat,
His Bride beside Him, and His angel guards
About Him in their radiant phalanxes,
A pattern on the earth of things in heaven,
Sent forth His embassies of grace. No shade
Obscured His beatific countenance;
For in that holy temple all was love,
And in that holy city all was light,
Which lighten'd, far as human eye could reach,
The outmost confines of Emmanuel's land.

Yet deem not of His Presence as restrict
There only, where those pure Shekinah beams
Gladden'd Jerusalem, nor limited
By measurable accidents of time,
Who fills all space Incomprehensible,
And dwells the Highest in the highest heavens,
And spans the breadth, and circumscribes the depth,
Inhabiting eternity. For now,
While quickening the Millennial earth with life,
And sending forth ambassadors of peace
From Zion to all lands and seas, the Prince
With us, His Bride, was custom'd to withdraw,
Where far above the clouds His throne was set
Within the purple curtains of the sky,
But lower than the starry heavens, and there
Commune with us of all the solemn past
And all the dawning future. One by one
We stood before Him. One by one He spake
With us, conversing of our mortal life
And heavenly home; and words of grateful praise,
As the fidelity of each appear'd,
Fell from His lips. Nor were His servants' falls
Wrong done and good undone, conceal'd that day:
But being all was now forgiven and cleansed,
And being it was the Bridegroom's Eye that judged,
And being we were members of one Bride,
Brothers and sisters in one home of love,
The retrospect but bound us, each and all,
Closer to Him who wash'd us in His blood,
And closer to each other, when we saw
Our debt of service by another paid.
For envy had no foothold there. Pure love,
Beaming upon regenerate spirits, had left
No film of that pollution. What was most
For His eternal glory whom we loved,
And for our brethren's purest happiness,
Fulfill'd all hearts with rapture to the brim,
And more than fill'd: they overflow'd with love,
And drank in light till they could hold no more,
All full, though fulness not the same to all,
As dewdrops, fountains, streams, and argent lakes,
Albeit with diverse breadth and brilliancy,
Reflect one rising sun. If grief were there,
In memory of so little done for Him
Who had done all for us, it was that grief
Which, while it chastens, only deepens joy,
Seeing the mantle of His love was thrown
Over the past, and henceforth it was ours
To see, adore, and serve Him without end.

And there and then, as when a monarch's son,
The heir apparent of a mighty realm,
Well pleased in that his father's will is his,
Fixes his love upon some lowly maid
Of noble ancestry though faded wealth,
But, ere he brings her to her palace home,
Instructs her in all gentle courtesies,
And in such queenly graces, as beseem
The bride of one whom nations own their prince,
But chiefly tells her of his father's love,
His glory, and his goodness, and his grace,
Until her heart travels before her steps
To see the sire beloved of her beloved; -
So, hour by hour, through that millennial day,
In the pavilion of the heavens recluse,
As in the active royalties of earth,
Messiah taught His virgin Bride to long
For full fruition of the light of God,
A rapture inconceivable before,
And only from His own lips to be learn'd.

Meanwhile on earth the Sabbath morn, that rose
In its first freshness on Emmanuel's land,
Scatter'd its glory o'er the nations. Realms,
For ages mantled with the pall of death,
Woke and arose to life. The ocean waves
Caught the far splendor, and the winds of heaven
Wafted the tidings on. Evangelists,
Of whom the last was mightier in God's might
Than that prophetic voice by Jordan's banks,
Went forth from Salem. All the powers of hell
Were bound, and not a rebel spirit abroad:
But angels plied their ministry uncheck'd,
Weary of warfare, weary of themselves,
Welcomed with shouts the messengers of peace
Upon the morning mountains. Beautiful
Their steps, and beauty follow'd where they trod;
For ever, like a crown of holy flame
Wreathing their brows, the Pentecostal Spirit
Moved in the wastes of darkness; and again
God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

Creation, which had groan'd in travail-pangs
Together with her children until now,
Ceased from her groaning. Long-forgotten smiles,
The smiles of her sweet childhood's innocence,
Stole o'er her happy face. The wilderness
Rejoiced, and blossom'd as the rose. The curse,
Which for six thousand years had sear'd the heart
Of nature, was repeal'd. And when the thorn
Perplex'd the glens, and prickly briars the hills,
Now, for the Word so spake and it was done,
The fir-tree rear'd its stately obelisk,
The cedar waved its arms of peaceful shade,
The vine embraced the elm, and myrtles flower'd
Among the fragrant orange-groves. No storms
Vex'd the serene of heaven: but genial mists,
Such as in Eden drench'd the willing soil,
Nurtured all lands with richer dews than balm.
Earth breathed her thanks. Rivers of living waters
Broke from a thousand unsuspected springs;
And gushing cataracts, like that call'd forth
On Horeb by the rod of Amram's son,
Gladden'd the mountain slopes, and coursed adown
The startled defiles, till the crystal wealth,
Gather'd in what was once an arid vale,
A lake of azure and of silver shone,
A mirror for the sun and moon and stars.

Peace reign'd. Antipathies of kind were now
Things of the past. The wolf and yearling lamb
Were playmates; and the leopard and the kid
Gamboll'd together on one knoll; the steer
And lion grazed one herbage, and the ox
Touch'd with the bear on one luxurious sward.
Nor of the advent of the Prince of peace
Lack'd the calm sea its symbols, nor the sky.
Dolphins and sharks in many a sunny creek
Together bask'd at noon; and glittering shoals
Made mirth around the huge leviathan.
Nor less, as I have seen, the king of birds,
Would bear the cushat dove upon its wings
Into the morning sunlight; while beneath
The swallow and the vulture only vied
In speed, disporting o'er the woods and waves.
And now in air and ocean, as on earth,
A holy fear of man, Nature's true priest,
Subdued all creatures to his will. His word
Was law. Even the infant stretch'd its hand,
Its tiny hand, towards the cockatrice,
Now seen, now hidden in its den; and babes
Play'd with the innocent asp, wreathing a coil
Of burnish'd gold and opal round the neck,
Or as a bracelet round the dimpled arm.
Freed from the curse, the grateful garden gave
Its fruits in goodly revenue. Nor frost
Nor blight nor mildew fell; nor canker-worm
Nor caterpillar marr'd one ripening hope.
The clouds dropp'd fatness. The very elements
Were subject to the prayerful will of those,
Whose pleasure was in unison with God's.
There winter was as summer: summer there,
Attemper'd with soft dews and cooling winds,
Appear'd in sevenfold glory; for the moon
Was as the sun in that pellucid air,
The sun as seven day's light in one condensed.
And when the sun had set nor moon had risen,
The lesser glories of the stars shone forth,
As flames fair Venus in the Eastern heavens,
Or lordly Jupiter.

War was unknown;
The brotherhood of nations unrelax'd:
Swords now were ploughshares, spears were pruning-hooks,
And all the enginery of battle shown
As trophies of the victory of love.
Babel's confusion was unlearn'd. And one
Melodious language, wherein every thought
Found utterance, overspread the circling globe,
A language worthy of the sons of God.
No labor now was lost. Commerce diffused
From pole to pole the gifts of every clime,
And spread her sails to every wind that blew,
Though love, not greed of lucre, held the helm.
But chiefly to Jerusalem and fro
The drift of ceaseless traffic set; for there
David, vicegerent, sate on David's throne;
And on their thrones of judgement round about,
Judging the tribes of Israel, the twelve,
Who sometime suffered with a suffering Lord,
Reign'd in His glorious reign. Mercy and truth
Met in His presence: righteousness and peace
Kiss'd each the other underneath His eye.
His people were a royalty of priests,
And offer'd in His temple ceaseless prayer
And incense of uninterrupted praise.
Thither the nations flock'd. There every doubt
Was solved: there perfect equity held sway.
No wrong, but there was instantly redress'd;
No right, but there was gloriously confirm'd:
For Zion was the mercy-seat of earth,
The footstool of the throne of God; where faith
Had clearest evidence of things unseen,
And hope climb'd easiest up the golden stairs
Scaling the heavens, and love, pure passionate love,
Saw the Beloved One and was at rest.

Yet deem not this millennial Sabbath knew
The perfectness of that which was to come,
Save in Emmanuel's land. There all was light:
And all the holy race of Abraham
Were clothed in priestly robes, spotless as snow.
But elsewhere good was prevalent, not perfect,
Not universal. Evil lurk'd unseen
In hearts that strove against the striving Spirit,
And at rare intervals from Messiah's throne
Branded the sinner with a curse like Cain's;
And vice crouch'd before virtue. Nor was death
Wholly unknown; though now, as ere the flood,
Decades were centuries of life. Enough
Remain'd to witness of the awful past,
And warn the nations of the dread To be.

Nor prophecy was mute. But, fill'd with joy,
Little thought men of twilight shadows ever
Falling upon their day of rest: so bright
The morn; so cloudless the meridian sun;
So calm the after ages as they roll'd.
Earth teem'd with life. Connubial love recall'd
The freshness of the bowers of Paradise;
And rosy infancy and childhood smiled
In every homestead; and the heart of youth
Open'd its buds and blossoms to the light,
Unchill'd by devilish lust. Disease had fled.
Nor wounds, though rare, lack'd healing from the leaves
That grew beside the crystal stream of life
Forth issuing from Emmanuel's throne. But who
May tell the stillness, who the melodies
Of that great Sabbath's sabbaths, when the voices
Of the whole world were hush'd in silent prayer,
Or in successive Hallelujahs roll'd
From shore to shore along the circling hours?
But chiefly' in thee, O Zion, where the Prince
Held court, and His seraphic minstrelsies
In mortal hearing touch'd immortal harps,
And fill'd earth's temple with the sounds of heaven.
There on their thrones the crowned hierarchs
Sate in due course: and oftentimes it seem'd
As if the deep-blue sky was rent asunder,
Till they who worshipp'd, through cherubic wings
Unfolding like a woven veil of light,
Beheld Messiah and His Bride in glory,
And angels up and down those radiant stairs
Ascending and descending, on their quests
Of mercy and high embassies of power.

Thus visions seen far off, and sung of old
By holy seers and prophets, grasp'd by faith
And long'd for, though the half could ne'er be told
In language, nor by hope itself conceived,
Had now accomplishment - a waking bliss,
The rest foreshadow'd for the Church of God,
The golden eve of everlasting day.