  As Stephen approaches the temple, he is suddenly arrested and brought before the Sanhedrim. There making his defence, he is interrupted with hostile demonstrations, instigated by Shimei. On this, he bursts out with noble indignation, which furnishes the desired occasion for a cry against him of "Blasphemy!" from all, and for a violent hurrying forth of the prisoner without the walls to be stoned. A file of Roman soldiers confronts and stays the tumultuous crowd; but, after parley conducted by Shimei with the centurion, their leader, the rout is suffered to proceed. Meantime, however, a little company of sympathizing Christians, including Rachel with the three from Bethany, have gathered round Stephen and listened to cheerful, tranquillizing words from him. After the stoning, these friends carry the body of Stephen for laving to the pool of Siloam, whence by moonlight up Olivet to Bethany. Here they lay it in a room of Martha and Mary's house until morning. STEPHEN MARTYR.uter robes thrown off of thoseWho, disencumbered so, might, with main strength, And aim made sure, the better speed to fling At that meek heavenly man the murderous stone. The stone to slay. There Stephen stood, his face, His glory-smitten face, upturned to heaven, And his arms thither raised as if to meet The down-stretched arms of Jesus from on high. It was a sight both beautiful to see And piteous. The angels might have wept, Who saw it, but that they more deeply saw, And saw the pity in the beauty lost, Like a few drops of water on a fire That only serve to feed the flames more bright. At the first shower of stones at him with cry Of self-exciting execration flung, Stephen, with answering cry, as if of one Running to refuge and to sanctuary, Betook him to the covert of the Wings That trembled with desire to be outstretched Once over doomed Jerusalem unfain, And, "Jesus, Lord, receive my spirit!" said. That his friends heard and echoing said "Amen!" But they the flying stones saw not, nor saw Alight the flying stones upon their friend; And, gazing unimaginable depths Beyond the seen, beheld the glory there, Wherein the scandal and the mystery Of visible things vanished, like shadows plunged In the exceeding brightness of the sun, Or were transformed to make the glory more, Like discords conquered heightening harmony. With the next flight of stones, unwatched likewise, Stephen, raised far above the fierce effect, Stinging or stunning, of the cruel blows, Spoke heavenward once again, not for himself Petitioning now, but pleading for his foes. His foes already had prevailed to bring The martyr to his knees, and, on his knees, With loud last voice from lips inviolate yet— As if that angel chant at Bethlehem Still sounded, "Peace on earth, good will to men," Or that diviner tone from Calvary, "Forgive them, for they know not what they do"— One ransomed pure and perfect human note Threading the dissonant noise with melody— He prayed, "Lord Jesus, lay not Thou this sin That holy prayer exhaled his breath away, And on his breath exhaled to heaven in prayer His spirit thither aspired and was with Christ. As Stephen fell asleep, the sun went down; But over Olivet the great full moon Rose brightening. 'So,' thought Stephen's friends of him, 'His life has been extinguished to our eyes, Only elsewhere to shine, but while we wait For the new day to dawn that lingers, lo, His memory instead shall give us light, Not splendid like the sun, yet like the moon Lovely!' Thus comforting themselves, they saw The murderers of their friend above his corse Build roughly of the stones that smote him dead A kind of cairn in mockery of a tomb. Melted away meanwhile the multitude In silence, and, soon after, all were gone Save the true lovers of the man. Then these Gathered together round the accursÉd spot, Now hallowed, where he stood to suffer, where Deathless, leaving the sacred body there, Dead, desolate of the spirit, but still dear, Most dear to them. And so, with many tears Fast falling that nigh blinded them, they took From off the body, one by one, the stones— Almost as if they loved them, with such care!— Until his face, his fair disfeatured face, And his form marred and broken, open lay To the mild moon that seemed to sympathize, And touched and softened all with healing beams. "Let us bear hence the sacred clay," they said, "And wash it from the pool of Siloam." Then Lazarus, with three fellow-helpers more— Nathanael, Israelite indeed, was there, Joseph of ArimathÆa too had come, Later, and Nicodemus, by nightfall, These were the chosen four, with Lazarus— Making a litter of their robes, took up The noble form that lately Stephen wore, And gently carried it to Siloam. With soft lustration there at loving hands, The dust and blood were wholly washed away; With skill that hid the wounds on cheek or brow, The eyelids closed on eyes that saw no more, The scarce cold palms folded upon the breast, Stephen it seemed indeed just fallen asleep. Then they were glad that Ruth would see him so, So peaceful and so beautiful asleep, Expecting soon to waken satisfied! "To-morrow will be time enough," they said, "To tell Ruth—let her sleep to-night." But Ruth Slept not, or if she slept, slept but to dream Of Stephen and his last hands on her head. Under the balmy moon, up Olivet To Bethany they bore the holy dust, And there, beneath the roof that sheltered oft The Man who had not where to rest His head, They laid the body down to dreamless sleep; And slept themselves until the morrow morn. |
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