Yesterday, To-Day, And For Ever: Book Ix. - The Bridal Of The Lamb Poem by Edward Henry Bickersteth

O Mystery of love, whose simplest signs
Are hieroglyphics of another tongue
Love only can interpret, from a babe's
First smile of joyance at its mother's voice,
To the warm ruddy glow of frostless age;
A web of heavenly warp and earthly woof;
Affections twined, and intertwined; gold threads
Woven, unwoven, and again rewove;
Links riveted, and loosen'd, and relink'd,
Imperishable all, - what shall I say?
How speak of thee in language worthy thee?
My spirit is willing, but my flesh is weak.
I see thee through a glass but darkly, - beams
From the great Fontal Orb of love, which shone,
Ere the foundations of the heavens were laid,
Self-luminous, self-centred, self-contain'd.
In its own increate immensity,
Perfect, incomprehensible, Triune;
But which in fulness of the age of ages
Brake effluent forth, the exuberance of life
Creative, till the universe of things
Rose underneath the hand of God, instinct
With His own nature, sinless, undefiled;
And, when foreseen but not the less abhorr'd
Evil arose from good, and cast its pall,
The pall of death, over the birth of life,
Which, not one ray of glory quench'd or dimm'd,
Ceased not to shine, immutably the same,
Through clouds of judgement and quick flames of wrath
On worlds perplex'd with tempest. Holy love,
Which out of that corrupt creation deignedst
To build a new creation incorrupt,
And link thyself thereto by sinless bands
Incarnate, that Godhead to manhood join'd,
And through mankind to all material words
(Wondrous espousals), might at last present
His chosen Bride in virgin white array'd
Before the Eternal Throne: - how shall I speak
Thy fulness, who can scarce conceive thy least?
Dazzles my feeble sight? Spirit of love,
Hear me, who humbly supplicate thine aid;
That which is gross in me, etherealize;
That which in me is carnal, spiritualize;
That which is earthly, elevate to heaven;
The weak enable, and the dark illume,
Till love, which is of God, abides in me,
And I abide in God, for God is love.

Oh, precious foretaste of the feast at hand!
Oh, blessed preliberation of the draughts
Of everlasting joy! When I return'd
With Oriel from our lonely mountain watch
To that fast-filling vale of Paradise,
Who first of all those white-robed multitudes
Should greet me, but my own, my sainted wife, -
Her spirit like mine dismantled of the flesh,
But radiant with the likeness of her Lord;
Our infant cherubs clinging to her skirts,
The mother with the children (how not so?);
And by her one whom I had seen, but scarce
Remember'd, till his grateful smile revived
The memory of his watch the night I died?
My wife - yet deem not by that name, her soul
Had not put off its earthly, and put on
Its heavenly. In a moment I was 'ware
She was for ever altogether mine;
Not spouse, but what is symbolized by spouse;
Not consort, but what consort typifies;
The meaning now made fact; the ideal here
Transparent in our real unity;
A reflex glory' and image of myself;
An help meet for me in the house of God.
Oh, never in her loveliest on earth
Of bud or bloom appear'd she lovely' as now;
Nor ever had I loved her as this hour,
When hanging on my neck, as she was wont,
She look'd up with her tender pleading face,
And sobb'd for very ecstasy, not grief,
'My husband!' This was all, but this was heaven.

Nor was there longer interval for muse,
Ere Gabriel with a royal retinue,
Passing, as so it chanced, adown those ranks,
Amid those princely hierarchs a prince,
Advanced to meet us: - majesty of rule
Engraven on his awful brow and mien,
Temper'd with grace; and military power,
Mix'd with such gentleness as might beseem
The Bridegroom's friend. With open hand and heart
He hail'd us, and to Oriel spake, and said,
'Yonder midway, where trends towards the right
This happy vale, brother, assign thy group,
Till the next trumpet sound. The time is short.'

So saying he pass'd, he and his gorgeous suite,
And as he said, we did. Whither arrived
I stood a brief space gazing right and left,
Fulfill'd with joy. Far as the eye could reach,
Stretch'd that illimitable valley, named
In flowery Paradise the Vale of Flowers:
For here whatever Eden's walks could boast
Of fair or fragrant, asphodel or rose,
Lily or orange bloom, or citron fruit,
Myrrh, spikenard, cinnamon, or frankincense,
Grew in tenfold luxuriance unsurpass'd,
Fearlessly opening to that crystal light
Its perfume and its purity. But now
Nor flower nor fruit could fix the lingering eye:
For here in numbers without number flock'd
The saints of every age: the Bride was here,
Clothing herself with light; no bower of bliss
But hither sent its blessed habitants:
So shrill the archangel's clarion rang through heaven.

They came in multitudinous throngs; but soon
Celestial order reign'd, nor one appear'd
But necessary where he stood, albeit
Wide gaps were here and there discernible,
We without them not perfect. But behold,
More frequent every moment were the shouts
Along the victor armies, welcoming
Saints newly' arrived from earth. For now their foes,
Knowing they stood upon the brink of fate,
Redoubled their blind rage. Disguise was not:
The dust instead of water drank in blood;
And fiery persecution in all lands
Lit up the lurid flames of hell. The whole
Creation in birth-pangs travail'd and groan'd;
While Satan inly tortured, with a fiend's
Dark jealousy contemplating the power
Of Baalim and envious Ashtaroth,
Though by himself advanced, as yet subserved
Their banded domination. Antichrist,
All hollow subterfuges cast aside,
Usurp'd the throne of Christ. And there was woe
Intense, insufferable, such as earth
Saw never, such as heaven shudder'd to see.
For as these tidings came, and every hour
Disclosed some new atrocity of crime,
The language of all hearts, angels and saints,
Thrilling with cries of martyr'd innocents,
Swell'd in one tide of prayer adown that vale,
And clomb the highest heavens - 'Arise, O Lord!
Arise, O God of vengeance, show Thyself!
Make bare Thine arm, and lift Thy glittering spear!
Awake, awake, Almighty One! How long
Shall the ungodly triumph, and Thy foes
Trample Thy heritage beneath their feet?
How long, Eternal tarriest Thou? Arise!
Jehovah, God of vengeance, show Thyself!'

And He, whose ear is never heavy, heard;
And He, who never slumbers, woke. But yet
A transitory pause, a breathing space,
A silence terrible as sound before,
Until a cry of anguish and alarm
Rose from the lowest vaults of Tartarus,
'Alas! the dreadful day of wrath has come.'

It pass'd, and silence reign'd. And far and near
Messiah's Presence, though unseen, was felt
Amongst us, shedding secret power on all.
Angels on saints, and saints on angels look'd
Expectant; when lo, Gabriel by command
Put to his lips the trump of God, and blew
A blast so long and clear and musical,
That none drew breath until its echoes ceased.
And straightway, even as we were, we rose
(So rises from an Alpine vale the mist
At daybreak by the golden sun allured)
Self-poised, or rather by the Spirit upborne
Into that ambient atmosphere of light,
Angels and principalities and thrones
Mingling and ministrant. Slowly we rose
Towards the upper gates of Paradise,
Gates of pellucid pearl, which as we near'd
Seem'd to dilate themselves, the while our hosts,
Myriads abreast, pass'd through them singing songs
Of irrepressible joy, or friend with friend
Sweetly communing. Eagerly I ask'd
Of her, who like a sunbeam moved beside me,
What had befallen our sweet lambs, since I
Their shepherd left them in the wilderness
These many years; for years I found had flown,
While I, unconscious of their flight, had hung
On Oriel's lips, or follow'd where he led.
Let it suffice that all had faithful stood,
Much tried, much toiling, but all leal and true,
And children's children walking as they walk'd.

Thus all along that bright ravine we moved,
Expanded to what seem'd an hundredfold
Its former breadth upon our easy march
Ascending, nor too swiftly for the flight
Of the innumerable babes, that swell'd
That vast procession of the sons of God,
And with their innocent rapture woke new joy
In all. But now, this zone of mist traversed,
Forth issuing from its roseate avenue
Into the open firmament we pass'd,
And unimpeded held our way, - as though
That nebulous belt of stars, that girdles heaven,
Were seen moving among the other orbs,
And with a closer cincture binding earth.
How diverse from my last descent, alone
With Oriel and his courier seraphim,
Down this celestial roadway, to a world
I knew not, lit with passing splendors! Now
It seem'd as heaven itself were scaling heaven
For love, not war.

But half remains untold.
While thus along the star-paved firmament
The Bride, awaken'd from the holy rest
Of ages, hasten'd to her mother earth,
There to assume her hymeneal robes,
And, with the residue of God's elect
Made perfect, wait the advent of her Lord,
Himself the Bridegroom on the right of power,
Where in the heaven of heavens He sate embosom'd
Rose in His awful Majesty, and deign'd
Ascend the chariot of Omnipotence,
Borne onward by cherubic shapes.

As when
To the lone seer, by Chebar's waves exiled,
There came dense cloud and whirlwind from the North,
And fiery wreaths of flame, fold within fold,
And brightness as of glowing amber round
Those living creatures inexpressible,
Of human form apparent, clad with wings
Of Seraphim, like burning coals of fire
Or lamps or lightnings flashing to and fro,
Straight moving where the Spirit will'd: beneath
Wheels rush'd, set with innumerable eyes,
Wheel within wheel of beryl, and instinct
With One pervading Spirit; and overhead
The firmament of crystal, terrible
In its transparent brightness stretch'd: they rose
And lo, the rushing of their wings appear'd
The roll of mighty waters, or the shout
Of countless multitudes: but, when the voice
Of God above them sounded eminent,
Straightway they stood and droop'd their awful wings;
And far above the firmament, behold
The likeness of a sapphire throne; and there,
Mysterious presage of the Incarnate, shone
The likeness of a Man. Human He was
In every lineament, yet likest God,
Flame-girdled, like a sardine stone afire,
Pure bright amid impenetrable dark,
Insufferably radiant, till it wrote
Mercy's great symbol on the clouds of wrath,
And with its arch of soften'd rainbow hues,
Gold, emerald, and vermilion spann'd the throne.

Thus came He to that solitary seer.
But who of men or angels can relate
His coming with the sanctities of heaven,
This day of His espousals? Such estate
And pomp and presence, as might best comport
With Filial Majesty, Supreme, Divine,
Were round about Him pour'd. Eternal love,
Rejoicing in its well Beloved, breathed
New raptures o'er His blessed countenance;
While in His Father's glory and His own,
By thousand times ten thousand ministries
Attended, through the holiest heaven of heavens
He came, and through the multitudinous maze
Of jubilant constellations. But, or ever
His armies, following underneath the sign
Of Michael's archangelic standard, touch'd
The confines of the sun's crystalline sphere
Earthward descending, on the other side
The hosts of the redeem'd, by Gabriel led,
Advancing from the opposite aspect,
Not without songs of triumph heard far off,
Stood on what seem'd the nether edge of space
Bordering earth's airy firmament. So stood
Israel aforetime, from the ocean depths
Emerging, by the clouds of spray baptized,
Beside the marge of Idumea's sea,
And sang the song of Moses to the sound
Of Miriam's timbrel, or disposed themselves
In loose array along those hoary rocks
Fretted by waves, which here and there cast up
The bodies of their late blaspheming foes.
Not otherwise that hour nor with less joy
We, all invisible to mortal sight,
Enwrapp'd the circling earth from pole to pole,
A thin pure veil of disembodied spirits
(Scarcely less subtle than the luminous hair,
Dishevell'd, streaming from a comet's brow,
Through which the faintest star shines on undimm'd,)
And nearing now our birth-land, at a word
That with electric speed circled the globe,
Bore downward through the realms of air (as once
The lambent fiery tongues of Pentecost
Fell straight from heaven) where waited each the germ,
Once sown in weakness, to be raised in power.
The motion was as thought. Howbeit nor I,
Nor any, lost one moment's consciousness.
It was a village churchyard where I lighted,
My wife, my babes, beside me, on the left
My parents, and my chasten'd sister's spirit,
Our angel guardians hanging on our steps.
But, even as we touch'd the solid earth,
The Lord Himself descended with a shout,
Loud as of torrent floods, into mid-heaven,
His bright cherubic chariot veil'd in clouds
Of dazzling glory. And at His command
The voice of Michael, like the knell of doom,
Broke on the slumbers of a guilty world,
And on the last conspiracies of hell;
And flashes of incessant lightnings wrapp'd
The incandescent sky from East to West,
Where night was, making night itself as noon,
And where was day, blinding the sun with light:
A thunder sound, but no articulate words;
A lightning glory, but no lineaments
Apparent to the habitants of earth,
Save on the hills of Zion, where the tribes
Of Israel, gather'd from all lands and seas,
Heard what the nations heard not, and beheld,
Astonied, Him whom they had pierced; - as once
To Saul, alone of all that stricken band,
His persecuted Lord appear'd and spake,
But now Gabriel a third time blew his trump,
Given him from the celestial sanctuary
Against this Bridal hour. And in a glimpse,
In the individual twinkling of an eye,
The ground, on which we stood, trembled and clave;
And I, a sense of rapture like new life
Through every limb discoursing, found myself
Apparell'd in celestial robes, what once
Was mortal clothed in immortality,
What was corrupt in incorruption lost.
So were all clad. But angel whispers now
Spake welcomes scarcely audible; for still
The echoes of the Bridal trump rang out,
And still the Bridegroom's voice resounded, and
Straightway, as if the altar of the earth
Exhaled one cloud of incense, we rose up
Towards the sapphire throne; but scarce had risen,
Ere thousand times ten thousand living saints,
Changed and transfigured, from all lands and seas,
Like Enoch and Elias, without death
Achieving deathless life, translated rose
And swell'd our soaring multitudes, and fill'd
Whate'er was wanting to the Bride. Behold
The Church of the Firstborn at last complete!
The while, with Hallelujahs on our lips,
Still on and on towards the throne we swept
Through the aerial regions, every eye
Bent on the King, and every instant rich
With new delights; until His hosts and ours
Seem'd two fraternal armies edge to edge
Approaching, nothing save His car of fire
Flashing prismatic flames betwixt. As when
(If such celestial mysteries may bear
Earthly comparison, nor suffer loss),
Emergent from his eastern couch, the sun
Pours forth at last his horizontal beams
Between two banks of clouds, above, below,
Rubied with light, a flood of golden day,
Till closing round his chariot they imbibe
The full effulgence of his ardent wheels,
Leaving the hills in gloom: so clustering round
Messiah, who descended from His throne
To greet us, as the bridegroom greets the bride, -
Love omnipresent, inexpressible,
Welcoming all as each, and each as all, -
We from His smile drank in beatitudes
Beyond all words to picture. But what more
Befell us in those high aerial realms
Was closely mantled from unholy gaze.

Earth trembled at the sudden night. The Bride
Was not. They sought her, but she was not found:
And for a space in mute amaze men ask'd
Each of his fellow, where were those they loathed,
Yet loathing fear'd? But soon far other scenes
Engross'd all hearts: for lo, great Babylon
Trembled, as smitten with the curse of God,
And fell in ruinous heaps, and sank, as sinks
A millstone in the mighty waters, down
Into a dreadful chasm of fire, which oped
Beneath her battlements, while overhead
The sky rain'd burning sulphur, till the smoke
Of her great torment clomb into the heavens;
And all her merchants standing far aloof,
Bewail'd her, casting dust upon their heads.
But not on Satan and his peers that hour
The wrath-beam fell: whereat greatly rejoiced
The rebel triad, and, embolden'd more
By what had cow'd less than infernal pride,
From every shore their thronging armies drew,
Weening to' erect, where Zion's temple stood,
The throne of wickedness, and set thereon
The proud son of perdition, in whose breast
They three might tabernacle, as the Arch-fiend,
Sole monarch, once in wretched Judas dwelt.

There was a sound of weeping on the slopes
Of Zion, not the children's hungry cry,
Or wail of women over slaughter'd babes,
Or the loud groans of linked prisoners,
Albeit the eagles of destruction swoop'd
Wheeling in ever nearer circles o'er
Emmanuel's land. Their hour was not yet come.
But all the air breathed sadness. Sobs and sighs,
Vainly suppress'd, were heard in every home.
A nation was in tears. For they had seen
Their Prince the Lord of glory, and had heard
Him saying, 'I am Jesus, whom ye pierced,'
And, pierced themselves, in bitterness of soul
Mourn'd for Him, as men mourn as only son,
None to his fellow spake except in sighs,
And smiting on his breast would go his way.
But one among them moved, of nobler mien,
Veiling in mortal guise immortal power,
And like another Baptist bow'd all hearts,
Priests, people, parents, children, as one man,
Till, gazing on the cross their fathers rear'd,
Israel beheld the Crucified and lived.

Such things were wrought on earth. But who of saints
Or seraphs may with chasten'd reverence
Disclose what holy mysteries ensued
Within the veil, when now the rest withdrawn
Past earshot, not beyond angelic view,
Retiring till their robes and wings and crowns
Appear'd as hangings wov'n of richest dyes
Star-spangled, like the temple curtains twined
With purple, crimson, blue, and gleaming forms
Cherubic curiously traced in gold,
The Bridegroom met the Bride alone? Himself
In glorified humanity supreme,
Incarnate Light: and she like Him in glory,
No spot or wrinkle on her holy brow,
No film upon her robes of dazzling white,
Most beautiful, most glorious: every saint
Perfect in individual perfectness;
And each to each so fitly interlink'd,
Join'd and compact, their countless millions seem'd
One body to One Spirit inspired and moved,
The various members knit in faultless grace,
The feeblest as the strongest necessary,
Nor schism, nor discord, nor excess, nor lack;
The Ideal of all beauty realized,
The Impersonation of delight and love.

And the Lord look'd on her; and in His Eye
Beam'd admiration infinite, Divine.
She was His chosen, His elect. When cast
Abroad a foundling infant in her blood,
Hers was the time of love: no eye but His
Had pity: but He took her to His heart,
And nurtured all her helpless infancy,
And taught her gentle childhood, and at last
Betroth'd her virgin beauty to Himself,
And, being that another claim'd her life,
Had with His heart's blood ransom'd her from death,
For her descending from His throne to die,
And re-ascending to prepare her home,
Had won her tender maidenhood to long
For this chaste Bridal. Now His time was come;
And all her coy and childish bashfulness
Had ripen'd into womanly reserve.
Pure and intense affection o'er her threw
A veil of soften'd light. To share His throne
Was little in her eyes, whose glory' it was
To hear Him whisper, 'My beloved is Mine,'
To lean upon His bosom, and reflect
The sunshine of His everlasting joy.

And still He look'd on her; and silently
Drank in her beauty, as once Adam look'd
On Eve, till underneath His searching eye,
Conscious of loving, confident of love,
Quick flushes of delight suffused her heart
And shed new charms about her, when it seem'd
(I speak of heavenly things in earthly words)
As if He drew her nearer to Himself,
And folded her to His Eternal breast,
And spake to her, and said, 'My love, My dove,
My beauty be upon thee. Thou art Mine.
Thou art all fair. There is no spot in thee.'

When in the nether Paradise He stamp'd
Me with the impress of His gaze of love,
My cup, methought, ran over, nor could hold
Another crystal joy. But now His Spirit
Empower'd my spirit to receive new streams
Of gladness, which from all sides flow'd on me.
The throbbing pulses of the Bride's great heart
Seem'd from the joy, that coursed through every vein,
To gather new intensity of life,
While glowing, like the morning sky, she blush'd
Beneath the sun-smile of His holiness,
Who look'd on her, revealing evermore
New wonders of unfathomable grace,
Grace blent with glory, tenderness with truth,
Light without shade of dark, love without end.

Wife of the Lamb, known only by His name:
Oh finite image of the Infinite:
Oh holy creaturehood, perfect at last:
Oh true Self raised to true unselfishness,
Living for Him alone, who is thy life,
All and in all for Him as He for God.

But now, at secret signal from Himself,
The saints dispersing, like a golden cloud
Of incense blown among the orange groves,
In twos or threes, or groups, as liked them best,
He walking in the midst, to each and all
Most affable and most accessible,
Held converse: and the angels gather'd round,
Rejoicing greatly for the Bridegroom's joy,
And soon at His permissive voice disposed
And piled the banquet of His love with fruits
And nectar from ambrosial vines distill'd.

Then first, for interval ere this was none,
Turning I look'd upon my wife to read
My immortality of bliss in hers
Reflected. O my God, the glad surprise
Thou hadst prepared for us! Never in thought
Or dream or waking vision had such bloom,
As I in her, and she in me beheld,
Floated across our meditative eye.
Our spiritual body was the same in type,
In face and form and fashion, as on earth,
Yet not the same, - transfigured: suited this
For the quick motions of the new-born spirit,
As that for all the functions of the flesh;
Obedient to our faintest wish, as was
Sometime the disembodied soul; yea, more,
So willingly responsive, that it woke
Wish to exert, where exercise itself
Was pleasure. Would I speak, my tongue was fain;
And language copious, yet precise and clear,
Embracing all the loftiest thoughts enshrined
In all earth's dialects, flow'd from my lips
Spontaneously, catching the finer tints
Of mingled light and shade, like photographs
Of contemplation. Would I touch my harp,
The very touch was music, and enticed
Melodious words. The opening eye drank in
Such scenes of beauty, and the listening ear
Such trancing harmonies, audience and sight
Seem'd sweet necessity. Or would I move,
Volition, without wings, or nimble tread
Of footsteps, wafted my aerial form,
Swifter than sunbeams glance from East to West,
Whithersoe'er I would, as mortals move
Their hand or foot by motion of swift thought.
A body meet for heaven, as that for earth;
One from the other nascent: that the root,
This the fair flower: even as the hyacinth,
With its pavilion of green leaves, and wealth
Of blossom and rose-tinted petals, springs
From a dull dismal bulb, which none who saw,
And knew not of its latent power, could dream
The cradle of such loveliness, yet each
Meet for its home, for the rain-nurtured soil,
And the soft kisses of the playful air;
And each to each indissolubly join'd.

And when instinctively we raised our eyes
From contemplation of the heavenly forms,
Now ours for ever, to the Prince we loved,
To thank Him who had made us thus, behold
These bodies of our glory could sustain
More of His glory than the naked spirit;
Our pure affections His affections clasp'd;
And every power within us had some hold
On His omnipotence. Like imaged like.
And, as with us, so was it with the rest:
To all a vast promotion of their bliss,
To each the increase, as each sow'd on earth.
Love only can know love. And as they loved,
They knew Him. As they knew Him, they return'd
His lineaments of beatific light:
So glory is proportionate to grace.

But, hearken, now a concert of sweet sounds
On all sides imperceptibly arose,
From twice ten thousand flutes the ravish'd air
Soliciting, and whispering in all hearts,
The marriage supper of the Lamb was come.
And, even as we were, we saw what seem'd
A banquet of all heavenly fruits and food,
And chalices of crystal wreath'd with flowers,
Before us. And what seem'd, was there. And lo,
The Prince, at once our Minister and Host,
Assign'd to each his festal couch, whereon
No sooner were the happy guests recline
Than He Himself crown'd every cup with joy,
And charged attendant seraphim to keep
The tables loaded with the choicest bloom
Celestial walks could yield. They, nothing loath,
Bore from the Paradise of God such rich
Exuberance of vernal promise, mix'd
With the ripe fruits of summer (for in heaven
Summer and spring dance ever hand in hand),
As heaven itself had never seen till now
Pluck'd in one hour and on one board profuse,
Yet presently repair'd its gift, nor seem'd
The poorer. These the blessed angels piled,
In large unsparing hospitality,
Before the presence of their guests. Nor lack'd
Greetings, nor glad surprises, nor fond eyes
Flashing their welcome to beloved ones round:
Whether the bliss of guardian spirits or saints
Was greater, whether children most rejoiced
In parents, or their parents most in them,
I know not: this I know, all hearts were full.
Angels and principalities and thrones
Confess'd, they never tasted joy like this;
While youthful cherubs without number flew,
Shaking dewy fragrance from their wings,
And in their rosy fingers bore to each
Some token of the Royal grace. And soon
The genial flow of converse, like the sound
Of many waters heard far off, appear'd
A multitudinous tide of mirth and love.

The crystal river of eternal life
Flows ever deeper on; and since that hour,
It may be, I have witness'd other scenes
Of majesty and grandeur more august;
But purer rapture could not be. The first
Unfolding of the blossom to the sun;
The leaping of the spring, when first unseal'd;
The young bride's incommunicable joy,
When first the words, My husband, cross her lips;
The first babe folded to the mother's heart;
These have a rapture all their own. And we,
Methinks, of that delicious feast of love
Had never wearied (half a week of years
As meted by the sun, so I have heard,
Pass'd by the while: they only seem'd like days),
But now Messiah rising from His throne,
In the calm awe of His Omnipotence,
Address'd us, saying,


'My Father's will be done.
His will is Mine. The fated hour has struck
Of battle. On mine ears but now there fell
The short sharp cry of Israel's travail-pangs.
Come with Me, saints and angels, and behold
My foes and yours prostrate beneath our feet.
Now is the day of vengeance in My heart,
And now the year of My redeem'd is come.'

He spake; and lo, that festive scene of love
Quickly appear'd a camp of mustering war,
From whose cerulean gates, wide open thrown,
Messiah seated on a snow-white horse
Of fiery brightness, as the Lord of hosts,
Apparell'd in a vesture dipp'd in blood,
And many crowns upon His sacred head,
Rode conquering and to conquer forth. And those,
Who lately at His marriage feast reclined,
Appear'd an army, clothed in robes of white,
And mounted like their Lord on steeds of fire,
A glorious retinue. On either side,
Like wings of light-arm'd troops, innumerable,
The hosts of angels, ranged in order, march'd,
And, as they march'd, to sound of martial trumps,
Pour'd forth prophetic strains of Jubilee:

'Hail, Prince of life! Hail, virgin Princess, hail!
Thou fairer than the sons of men, Thy lips
Drop with the fragrant honey-dews of grace,
For God, Thy God, hath blessed Thee for ever.
Almighty gird Thy sword upon Thy thigh.
Ride, in Thy Majesty, Thy glory, forth:
In truth, in meekness, and in righteousness
Shall teach Thee deeds of vengeance, and Thy shafts
Shall drink the life-blood of Thy vaunting foes.
Thy throne, O God, from everlasting years
Hath been, and is, and shall for ever be.
Thy sceptre is a rod of righteousness.
Right loves Thee, and wrong dreads Thee: wherefore God,
Thy God, anoints Thee with the oil of joy
Immeasurable. From Thy Bridal feast
Thou ridest forth to conquer; whiles Thy robes
Of myrrh and cassia smell and mingled spice,
And love and gladness glisten in Thine eye.
O Blessed Bridegroom! O thrice-blessed Bride!
Happy art thou, O fairest among women.
Shall be forgotten in thy Husband's smile,
Resting upon thy perfect loveliness:
Thy Husband is the Lord, the Lord of hosts.
And be it ours in countless multitudes
To throng around thy steps, and lavish love
On the Beloved of the Lord we love:
Until the palaces of glory, fill'd
With ever-during infinite delights,
Receive thee in their golden gates, and there,
Peerless Queen-consort of the King of kings,
Thy virgin ministries about thee drawn,
Thou dwellest in His mansions evermore,
Sharing His throne, and from the well of life
Diffusest living streams through earth and heaven.'