  A Picture by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Of old through gates that closed on them Two exiles went with eyes downcast; The Present now retrieves the Past, God's Eden is in Bethlehem. An Eden that no walls enclose By Mary's arms encompassÈd, A living shrine, a 'house of bread,' A very haven of repose. His cradle angry tempests rage; He needs must go on pilgrimage, An exile, homeless and discrowned. And yet, His Rank to designate, The unquenched Star of Bethlehem Shines forth, a radiant diadem; While Angels on His footsteps wait. E'en now the Father's Face they see, A triumph-song e'en now they sing, And, wondering and worshipping, Attend His Pilgrim-Family. Is of a solemn countenance; To him a rapid backward glance Reveals a massacre begun. The other, forward gazing, sees The glory of the age to come, The fruitfulness of martyrdom, Of deaths that are nativities. O weeping mothers, dry your tears! The Mother whom this canvass shows Nor fears, nor weeps, although she knows An anguish deeper than your fears. For all who fare on pilgrimage; By suffering from age to age God seals the vassals of His Will. Her Burden is upholding her; And, guided by the Holy Dove, She sees the victory of Love Beyond the Cross and Sepulchre. To shield her, Joseph stands: his care The shadow of God's Providence. How fragrant is the frankincense Of their uninterrupted prayer! A new and living way they tread, So gain they the true 'House of Bread,' A garden for a wilderness. A flight it seems to us; to them It is a going forth to win The world from Satan and from sin, And build the New Jerusalem. Lord Christ! for every seeking soul Thou art Thyself the Door, the Way; All, all shall find one coming day Thy Heart their everlasting goal! Loch Leven: 1884. |
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