The Catholic World
Chapter 92 : Or hear, at least, his awful judgment-word With personal intonation, as I now Hear thee

Or hear, at least, his awful judgment-word With personal intonation, as I now Hear thee, not see thee, angel? Hitherto All has been darkness since I left the earth; Shall I remain thus sight-bereft all through My penance-time? if so, how comes it then That I have hearing still, and taste, and touch, Yet not a glimmer of that princely sense Which binds ideas in one, and makes them live?

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ANGEL.

Nor touch, nor taste, nor hearing hast thou now; Thou livest in a world of signs and types, The presentations of most holy truths, Living and strong, which now encompa.s.s thee.

A disembodied soul, thou hast by right No converse with aught else beside thyself; But, lest so stern a solitude should load And break thy being, in mercy are vouchsafed Some lower measures of perception, Which seem to thee, as though through channels brought, Through ear, or nerves, or palate, which are gone.

And thou art wrapped and swathed around in dreams, Dreams that are true, yet enigmatical; For the belongings of thy present state, Save through such symbols, come not home to thee.

And thus thou tell'st of s.p.a.ce and time and size, Of fragrant, solid, bitter, musical, Of fire, and of refreshment after fire; As (let me use similitude of earth, To aid thee in the knowledge thou dost ask)-- As ice which blisters may be said to burn.

Nor hast thou now extension, with its parts Correlative,--long habit cozens thee,-- Nor power to move thyself, nor limbs to move.

Hast thou not heard of those, who after loss Of hand or foot, still cried that they had pains In hand or foot, as though they had it still?

So is it now with thee, who hast not lost Thy hand or foot, but all which made up man.

So will it be, until the joyous day Of resurrection, when thou wilt regain All thou hast lost, new-made and glorified.-- --How, even now, the consummated saints See G.o.d in heaven, I may not explicate:-- Meanwhile let it suffice thee to possess Such means of converse as are granted thee, Though till the beatific vision thou art blind; For e'en thy purgatory, which comes like fire, Is fire without its light.

SOUL.

His will be done!

I am not worthy e'er to see again The face of day; far less his countenance, Who is the very sun. Natheless, in life, When I looked forward to my purgatory, It ever was my solace to believe, That, ere I plunged into th' avenging flame, I had one sight of him to strengthen me.

ANGEL.

Nor rash nor vain is that presentiment; Yes,--for one moment thou shalt see thy Lord.

Thus will it be: what time thou art arraigned Before the dread tribunal, and thy lot Is cast for ever, should it be to sit On his right hand among his pure elect, Then sight, or that which to the soul is sight, As by a lightning-flash, will come to thee, And thou shalt see, amid the dark profound, Whom thy soul loveth, and would fain approach, One moment; but thou knowest not, my child, What thou dost ask: that sight of the Most Fair Will gladden thee, but it will pierce thee too.

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SOUL.

Thou speakest darkly, angel; and an awe Falls on me, and I fear lest I be rash.

ANGEL.

There was a mortal, who is now above In the mid glory; he, when near to die, Was given communion with the Crucified,-- Such, that the Master's very wounds were stamped Upon his flesh; and, from the agony Which thrilled through body and soul in that embrace, Learn that the flame of the Everlasting Love Doth burn, ere it transform... .

-- 5.

... Hark to those sounds!

They come of tender beings angelical, Least and most childlike of the sons of G.o.d.

FIRST CHOIR OF ANGELICALS.

Praise to the Holiest in the height, And in the depth be praise: In all his words most wonderful; Most sure in all his ways!

To us his elder race he gave To battle and to win, Without the chastis.e.m.e.nt of pain, Without the soil of sin.

The younger son he willed to be A marvel in his birth: Spirit and flesh his parents were; His home was heaven and earth.

The Eternal blessed his child and armed, And sent him hence afar, To serve as champion in the field Of elemental war.

To be his vice-roy in the world Of matter, and of sense; Upon the frontier, toward the foe, A resolute defence.

ANGEL.

We now have pa.s.sed the gate, and are within The house of judgment; and whereas on earth Temples and palaces are formed of parts Costly and rare, but all material, So in the world of spirits nought is found, To mould withal and form a whole, But what is immaterial; and thus The smallest portions of this edifice, Cornice, or frieze, or bal.u.s.trade, or stair, The very pavement is made up of life-- Of holy, blessed, and immortal beings, Who hymn their Maker's praise continually.

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SECOND CHOIR OF ANGELICALS.

Praise to the Holiest in the height, And in the depth be praise: In all his words most wonderful; Most sure in all his ways!

Woe to thee, man! for he was found A recreant in the fight; And lost his heritage of heaven, And fellows.h.i.+p with light.

Above him now the angry sky, Around the tempest's din Who once had angels for his friends, Has but the brutes for kin.

O man! a savage kindred they: To flee that monster brood He scaled the sea-side cave and clomb The giants of the wood.

With now a fear and now a hope, With aids which chance supplied, From youth to old, from sire to son, He lived, and toiled, and died.

He dreed his penance age by age; And step by step began Slowly to doff his savage garb, And be again a man.

And quickened by the Almighty's breath, And chastened by his rod, And taught by angel-visitings, At length he sought his G.o.d;

And learned to call upon his name, And in his faith create A household and a fatherland, A city and a state.

Glory to him who from the mire, In patient length of days, Elaborated into life A people to his praise!

SOUL.

The sound is like the rus.h.i.+ng of the wind-- The summer wind--among the lofty pines; Swelling and dying, echoing round about, Now here, now distant, wild and beautiful; While scattered from the branches it has stirred, Descend ecstatic odors.

THIRD CHOIR OF ANGELICALS.

Praise to the Holiest in the height, And in the depth be praise: In all his words most wonderful; Most sure in all his ways!

The angels, as beseemingly To spirit-kind was given, At once were tried and perfected, And took their seats in heaven.

For them no twilight or eclipse; No growth and no decay: Twas hopeless, all-engulfing night, Or beatific day.

But to the younger race there rose A hope upon its fall; And slowly, surely, gracefully, The morning dawned on all.

And ages, opening out, divide The precious and the base, And from the hard and sullen ma.s.s Mature the heirs of grace.

O man! albeit the quickening ray Lit from his second birth, Takes him at length what once he was, And heaven grows out of earth;

Yet still between that earth and heaven-- His journey and its goal-- A double agony awaits His body and his soul.

A double debt he has to pay-- The forfeit of his sins: The chill of death is past, and now The penance-fire begins.