Bitter-Sweet: A Poem Part 12

Why had his heart been led far down to mine, To beat in sinful sympathy with mine, But that my heart should cling to his and him, And follow his withdrawal to the heights From whence he had descended? Then I learned Why Christ was tempted; and, as broad and full, The heart of the great secret was revealed, And I perceived G.o.d's dealings with my soul, I knelt beside the tortured man and wept, And cried to Heaven for mercy. As I prayed, My soul cast off its shameful enterprise; And when it fell, I saw my G.o.dless self-- My own degraded, tainted, guilty heart, Which it had hidden from me. Oh, the pang-- The poignant throe of uttermost despair-- That followed the discovery! I felt That I was lost beyond the grace of G.o.d; And my heart turned with instinct sure and swift To the strong struggler, praying at my side, And begged his succor and his prayers. I felt That he must lead me up to where the hand Of Jesus could lay hold on me, or I was doomed.

Temptation's spell was past. He took my hand.

And, as he prayed that we might be forgiven, And pledged our future loyalty to G.o.d And His white throne within our hearts, I gave Responses to each promise; then I crowned His closing utterance with such Amen As weak hearts, conscious of their weakness, give When, bowed to dust, and clinging to the robes Of outraged mercy, they devote themselves Once and for ever to the pitying Christ.

Then we arose and stood upon our feet.

He gave me no reproaches, but with voice Attempered to his altered mood, confessed His own blameworthiness, and pressed the prayer That I would pardon him, as he believed That G.o.d had pardoned; but my heart was full,-- So full of its sore sense of wrong to him, Of the deep guilt of shameful purposes And treachery to worthy womanhood, That I could not repeat his Christian words, Asking forbearance on my own behalf.

He sat before me for a golden hour; And gave me counsel and encouragement, Till, like broad gates, the possibilities Of a serener and a higher life Were thrown wide open to my eager feet, And I resolved that I would enter in, And, with G.o.d's gracious help, go no more out.

For weeks he watched me with stern carefulness, Nourished my resolution, prayed with me, And led me, step by step, to higher ground, Till, gathering impulse in the upward walk, And strength in purer air, and keener sight In the sweet light that dawned upon my soul, I grasped the arm of Jesus, and was safe.

And now, when I look back upon my life, It seems as if that n.o.ble man were sent To give me rescue from the pit of death.

But from his distant height he could not reach And act upon my soul; so Heaven allowed Temptation's ladder 'twixt his soul and mine That they might meet and yield his mission thrift.

I doubt not in my grateful soul to-night That had he stayed within his higher world, And tried to call me to him, I had spurned Alike his mission and his ministry.

That he was tempted, was at once my sin And my salvation. That he sinned in thought, And fiercely wrestled with temptation, won For his own spirit that humility Which G.o.d had sought to clothe him with in vain, By other measures, and that strength which springs From a great conflict and a victory.

We talked of this; and on our bended knees We blessed the Great Dispenser for the means By which we both had learned our sinful selves, And found the way to a diviner life.

So, with my chastened heart and life, I come Back to my home, to live--perhaps to die.

G.o.d's love has been in all this discipline; G.o.d's love has used those awful sins of mine To make me good and happy. I can mourn Over my husband; I can pray for him, Nay, I forgive him; for I know the power With which temptation comes to stronger men.

I know the power with which it came to me.

And now, dear Grace, my story is complete.

You have received it with dumb wonderment, And it has been too long. Tell me what thought Stirs in your face, and waits for utterance.

_Grace_.

That I have suffered little--trusted less; That I have failed in charity, and been Unjust to all men--specially to one.

I did not think there lived a man on earth Who had such virtue as this friend of yours,-- Weak, and yet strong. 'Twas but humanity To give him pity in his awful strife; To stint the meed of reverence and praise For his triumphant conquest of himself, Were infamy. I love and honor him; And if I knew my husband were as strong, I could fall down before, and wors.h.i.+p him; I could fall down, and wet his feet with tears-- Tears penitential for the grievous wrong That I have done him. But alas! alas!

The thought comes back again. O G.o.d in heaven!

Help me with patience to await the hour When the great purpose of thy discipline Shall be revealed, and, like this chastened one, I can behold it, and be satisfied.

_Mary_.

Hark! They are calling us below, I think.

We must go down. We'll talk of this again When we have leisure. Kiss the little one, And thank his weary brain it sleeps so well.

[_They descend_.]

SECOND EPISODE.

LOCALITY--_The Kitchen_.

PRESENT--JOSEPH, SAMUEL, REBEKAH, _and other_ CHILDREN.

THE QUESTION ILl.u.s.tRATED BY STORY.

_Joseph_.

Have we not had "b.u.t.ton-b.u.t.ton" enough, And "Forfeits," and all such silly stuff?

_Samuel_.

Well, we were playing "Blind-Man's-Buff"

Until you fell, and rose in a huff, And declared the game was too rude and rough.

Poor boy! What a pity he isn't tough!

_All_.

Ha! ha! ha! what a pretty boy!

Papa's delight, and mamma's joy!

Wouldn't he like to go to bed, And have a cabbage-leaf on his head?

_Joseph_.

Laugh, if you like to! Laugh till you're gray; But I guess you'd laugh another way If you'd hit your toe, and fallen like me, And cut a b.l.o.o.d.y gash in your knee, And b.u.mped your nose and bruised your s.h.i.+n, Tumbling over the rolling-pin That rolled to the floor in the awful din That followed the fall of the row of tin That stood upon the dresser.

_Samuel_.

Guess again--dear little guesser!

You wouldn't catch this boy lopping his wing, Or whining over anything.

So stir your stumps, Forget your b.u.mps, Get out of your dumps, And up and at it again; For the clock is striking ten, And Ruth will come pretty soon and say, "Go to your beds You sleepy heads!"

So--quick! What shall we play?

_Rebekah_.

I wouldn't play any more, For Joseph is tired and sore With his fall upon the floor.

_All_.

Then he shall tell a story.

_Joseph_.

About old Mother Morey?

_All_.

No! Tell us another.

_Joseph_.

About my brother?

_Rebekah_.