Caleb's Vision Poem by Alfred Gibbs Campbell

Caleb went, as was his custom,
On a quiet Sunday morn,
To the house of prayer and worship,
Thither by devotion borne.


With his heart to Heaven uplifted,
All his soul engaged in prayer,
Caleb in his inmost being
Felt God's gracious presence there.


Rose the organ's diapason,
Deep, majestical and wild,
And the singers sang a chorus
To the praise of Mary's child.


Soon the song to silence melted,
Died the organ-tones away,
And the pastor in the pulpit
Said in low voice, 'Let us pray!'


In most earnest supplication
Then the good man's voice uprose,
For a world in darkness lying,
For its wickedness and woes,


All by one man's sin engendered,
All by Adam's fatal fall,
Which, the pastor said, hath all men
Wrapped within its fearful pall.


When the pastor ceased his praying,
In the pulpit stood up one
Whose high brow with care was furrowed,
Darkened by an Orient sun,


And he told, in strains pathetic,
Of a distant eastern clime,
Where, by superstition fettered,
Sunk in ignorance and crime,


All the people worshiped idols,
Gods which their own hands had made,
Vainly thinking, in their blindness,
Earth-born gods could give them aid.


And as Caleb heard the story
All his heart within him burned,
And his soul with deep compassion
For that wretched people yearned.


Now before his spirit's vision
These sad scenes began to glide:
Mothers their own children casting
Headlong 'neath the rolling tide


Of the Ganges, monster haunted,
Counting love maternal naught;
Nature's holiest instincts vanquished
By the faith which they are taught.


Multitudes, self-immolating,
Deeming their salvation bought
By a death beneath the pond'rous
Wheels of gory Juggernaut.


On the funeral-pyre, the widow,
Lying down beside the dead,
While the red flames, hot and savage,
Leap in fury overhead.


Age defenceless, left to perish
On the altar-river's bank,
Mid dark vapors thence uprising,
With foul, poisonous odors rank;


No kind friend to sit beside them,
Or to close the glazing eye;
Naught save the cold stars above them,
Keeping watch, as thus they die.


Stifled cry of drowning infant,
Bleeding victim's dying groan,
Piercing shriek of burning widow,
Age's low expiring moan,


With a strange and untold horror
All his spirit overcast,
As the dreadful panorama
Rolled in sad distinctness past.


'Neither gold nor silver have I,
But myself to them I give;
I will bear to them the Gospel,
That they, hearing it, may live.'


Such was Caleb's earnest answer
To the preacher's solemn call
On the worshipers of Him who
Said, 'My gospel preach to all.'


Homeward Caleb went, still burning
With a new and holy fire;
The salvation of the heathen
His most ardent, sole desire.


Having first himself committed
To the Great All-Father's care,
And his consecration offered,
All his purposes laid bare,


On his peaceful couch lay Caleb,
In a quiet slumber bound,
When had Night her jeweled curtain
Drawn the weary earth around;


And a vision was vouchsafed him;
Stood an angel by his bed,
Clothed in robes of spotless beauty,
Radiance streaming from his head;


And he spake in accents softer
Than the south wind's gentlest sigh,
'Fear not, Caleb, I am sent thee
From the Lord who rules on High,


'Sent to say thy consecration
And thy vows have all been heard;
He doth graciously accept them,
In His book they're registered.


'Go, on God's own strength relying,
Raise Immanuel's standard high,
Teach the poor, benighted millions
How to live and how to die.


'Tell them of God's great compassion;
Of His tender heart which yearns
Like a mother's o'er her children;
Of His love which brightly burns


'With a steady flame, undying,
With an energy divine,
Seeking all the lost and ruined,
Who in sin and misery pine.


'Tell them of His incarnation,
Of His earthly life and loss,
How for them He greatly suffered,
How for them He bore the cross.


'Be thou faithful to the message,
Shrink not, fear not, though thou be
Often weary of thy life-work,
Think what Christ hath done for thee.


'In His strength go forward boldly,
Bear the banner of the Cross,
And its victories shall surely
Compensate thy every loss.


'And thy soul's most ardent wishes
Shall be more than satisfied,
In the hosts who heed thy message
And accept the Crucified.


'And when thou thy task hast finished,
When thy earthly work is o'er,
Heaven its doors shall open to thee, -
Thine its joys for evermore!'