The Epic of Saul

by William Cleaver Wilkinson

STEPHEN MARTYR.

The sun of Syrian afternoon, declined
Half-way betwixt the zenith and the west,
Burned blinding in the cloudless blue of heaven
And fired a conflagration in the copes
Of beaten gold hung over the august
House of Jehovah, whither Stephen now
Tended unconsciously with wonted feet.
That spectacle of splendor he, agaze
With holden unbeholding eyes, saw not,
Or, as but with his heart beholding, saw
Only as goal of his obedience due.
Down the abrupt declivity with speed,
The westward-slanting slope of Olivet,
Descending by a path stony and steep—
The same whereon full often to and fro
Had fared the Blessed Feet, between the dust
And din and fever of Jerusalem,
And the sweet purity and peace, the cool,
The quiet, of that home in Bethany,
His refuge!—so descending, Stephen passed
On his right hand Gethsemane, that moved
Muse of the Master's agony for men,
Crossed Kedron, and thence upward pressing gained
Gate Susan, whence the temple nigh in view.
'Perhaps,' thought he, 'perhaps, once more, against
My expectation, I am thither brought
To preach as when I answered Saul that day.
The Lord will show me, in full time, alike
What I must speak, and when, and where.'

So wrapt
In welcome of the will unknown of God,
And full of faith and of the Holy Ghost,
Stephen with no amazement was afraid
When, suddenly and rudely, in the street,
A band in service of the Sanhedrim
Set on him, and, by their authority,
Seized him and brought him prisoner accused
Of blasphemy before their council, there
To be examined for his words and deeds.
Captive in body, he in soul was free,
Exulting in that glorious liberty,
The sense of sonship to Almighty God.

False witnesses, by Shimei suborned,
And well their lesson taught by Shimei,
Stood forth, who, to the teeth of Stephen, swore:
"This person never ceases speaking words
Against this holy place and Moses' law;
We heard him say that Jesus Nazarene
Is going to destroy this place, and change
The customs Moses handed down to us."

All the assessors in the Sanhedrim,
Fastening their eyes on Stephen, saw his face,
As it had been an angel's, kindling shine.
Saul marked it, and remembered how that day
The lightning of that face had blinded him!

The high priest now, accosting Stephen, asked,
"Are these things so?" and Stephen thus replied:
"Brethren and fathers, hearken to my words.
With ears that tingle to the echoes yet,
Perchance, of that high passionate harangue
Which late from Saul ye heard concerning wounds
Intended to this Jewish commonwealth,
Ye now have heard forsooth again from these—
How temple, law, and well-belovéd ways
Bequeathed us by our fathers from of old
Are threatened in the message that I preach.

"But, brethren, he mistakes who deems that God
Is to one place, one race, one time, one clime,
One mode of showing forth Himself, shut up.
Consider through what phases manifold
Has passed already heretofore God's way
With men; thence learn how lightly reckons God
Of place or method.
"Unto Abraham first
Before he came to Charan, while he yet
Dwelt in the land between the rivers, God
Appeared. Nor in a place thus holy made,
And glorious, by theophany, was he,
Our father, suffered to abide. 'Arise,'
Jehovah said, 'and get thee hence and come
Into the land which I will show thee.' Then
To Charan that obedient pilgrim passed.
Nor there found he a settled rest. Again
He journeyed and in Canaan, this fair land
Wherein ye dwell, a sojourner became;
For here God gave him no inheritance,
Promising only that in after times
That childless father's children here should dwell.

"Meanwhile another change, and now what seems
A long postponement of the purposed grace.
Four hundred years should Abraham's seed sojourn
As strangers in an alien land where they
Should suffer bondage and an evil lot:
Delivered thence with judgment on their foes,
They then should hither come and here serve God.

"Yet when the ripeness of the time was full,
And Moses offered to deliver them,
Our fathers doubted and refused his hand:
But Moses notwithstanding led them out.
And that same Moses prophesied of One
To follow him as Prophet Whom must all
Obey. Yet Moses, mouth of God to men,
Obeyed our fathers not, but, in their hearts
Gone back to Egypt, spurned him far aloof
From them. Then followed that apostasy
To idols, by Jehovah God chastised,
On those offending, with captivity
Which beyond Babylon carried them away.

"Albeit Jehovah gave to Moses such
Honor as never yet to man was given,
Still much that Moses wrought was cast aside.
That tabernacle, made by him express
As God Himself had shown him in the mount,
And so inwove with Hebrew history,
God suffered this to pass, and in its place
Preferred the temple built by Solomon.

"Yet not in houses built with human hands
Dwells the Most High; as, by His prophet, God
Says, 'On the heaven sit I as on a throne,
And the earth make a footstool for My feet.'
'What house will ye build Me,' the Lord inquires,
'Or what shall be the place of Mine abode?'"

So far a loth penurious decent heed
The council had grudged out to Stephen; here
The scowl of curious incredulity,
Wherewith they listened while as yet in doubt
Whither might tend his drift of argument,
Changed to a frown of deadly hate, as they
Conclusion from his use of Scripture drew
That Stephen glanced at overthrow indeed
Meant for the temple. Instantly, alert
To seize occasion, Shimei the sig
Gave to prepared conspirators, who now
Obediently framed a menace grim
Of gesture to denounce the speaker's aim;
And all the council, as one man, astir
With insurrection, frowned a vehement
Refusal to receive the word of God.

Stephen beheld their aspect, and his soul,
Dilating to a seraph's measure, filled
With sudden prophet's zeal aflame for God.
He forged his indignation into words
Which, like bolts kindling, now he launched at them.
He said:
"Stiff-necked ye, and uncircumcised
In heart and ears! Always do ye resist
The Holy Ghost; as did your fathers, so
Do ye. Which of the prophets did they not,
Your fathers, persecute? Who showed before
The coming of the Just One, those they slew;
And of Him now have ye betrayers been
And murderers. Ye who the law, received
At angels' disposition, have not kept!"

Cut to the heart at this, those councillors
Gnashed with their teeth on Stephen.
But that sight
Stephen, his eyes rapt elsewhere, did not see.
Full of the Holy Ghost, his face he raised,
Gazing with sense undazzled into heaven,
And saw the glory of God, and Jesus there,
Not sitting, as at ease, but, as in act
To help, standing, on the right hand of God.
He testified that vision thus to men:
"Opened see I the heavens and standing there
The Son of Man on the right hand of God."

Thereat a loud acclaim of hatred forth
Burst in one voice from all the Sanhedrim.
Full come was Shimei's opportunity.
As started Mattathias to his feet
In honest wrath instinctive, Shimei too
Rose, counterfeiting wrath, sign understood
By his complotters, who now likewise rose
In simultaneous second and support,
Setting the council in a wild turmoil.
They stopped their ears, and all together ran
On Stephen with tumultuary rage
To thrust him forth without the city walls.

The rush of such commotion through the streets,
A torrent madness raging on its way,
Raging and roaring, every moment more,
Roused a wide wind of rumor and surmise
Troubling the air of all Jerusalem.
Tremor of this reached Rachel's jealous sense,
On edge—she knowing that the Sanhedrim
Would that day summon Stephen to its bar—
To fear the worst for Stephen and for Saul.
But Ruth, her home more distant, she at home
Urged by importunate cares which for her wrought
Some present respite from the strain and pain
Of that farewell with Stephen—vexing thought!
Too certain to return insistently,
In waking and in sleeping vision, soon,
At night upon her bed, unbidden guest,
And haunt her bosom with sad memories,
And vague, unhappy, beckoning shapes of fears!—
Ruth, so precluded, nothing knew of all.

Rachel, with other women of the Way
Like-minded with herself, pathetic group!
Drew timorous nigh the ragged rushing rim
Of that confusion pouring toward the gate
Which northward opened on Damascus road.

The self-same path it was whereby had walked
A little while before, bearing His cross,
The Saviour of mankind toward Calvary.
Stephen remembered, and, remembering, went
Both meekly more, and more triumphantly,
To suffer like his Lord without the gate.
He said within himself, 'I follow Him;
I feel His footprints underneath my feet.'
Those women watched the martyr every step,
And with hands waved signalled him sympathy.
Such helpless help was help the more to him—
Who had no need, but gave them back again
Their sympathy in looks of strength and cheer
Which bade them too be faithful unto death,
As they saw him that day. The peace of God,
Lodged in his heart—a trust from Christ, Whose word
Was, "Peace I leave with you, My peace to you
I give; not as the world gives give I you:
Let not your heart be troubled, neither let
It be afraid"—that peace steadfast he bore
Amid the tumult round him, the one thing
Not shaken in a shaken universe,
Like the earth's axle sleeping and the earth
Whirling from centre to circumference!

Not yet the rout had reached the city gate,
When, lo! a sudden halt, a sudden hush,
Arrested and becalmed the multitude.
A file of Roman soldiers from the fort,
With swift, straight, sure lock-step, steel-clad, that clanged,
Flowed like a rill of flowing mercury,
Heavy yet nimble, through a street that crossed
The course of that mad progress, and, athwart
Its head abutting, stayed; the clang of pause
Rang sharper than the clang of the advance.
The leader, a centurion, sternly spoke:
"What means this uproar? Seek ye to provoke
Your rulers? Love ye, then, your yoke so well
Ye fain would feel it heavier on your necks?
Sedition into insurrection grows
Full easily, and this sedition seems.
Speak, who can tell, and say, What would ye?"
Prompt,
Then, Shimei, of the foremost, stepping forth
Said;
"This is no sedition as might seem;
A crushing of sedition rather. We,
The Sanhedrim"—wherewith a smirk and bow
From Shimei, with wave of hand swept round
Upon his colleagues in their sorry plight
Dishevelled, seemed, in sneering cynic sort,
To introduce them with mock dignity—
"We Sanhedrim this fellow caught employed
In stirring up sedition, and our zeal
For peace and order under Roman rule
Inflamed us, following our forefathers' way,
To visit death on him without the gate.
We beg you will allow us to proceed
And put to proof of act our loyalty"—
Hot breath, half hiss, from Mattathias here—
"This script perhaps will help determine you."

And Shimei handed up a tablet writ.
The Roman read:
"Let this disorder pass;
It may be useful. Watch it well."
The seal
Once more with care examined, parley had
With Shimei, whose crafty answers meet
Each wary scruple of the officer,
And sign is given to let the rout proceed.

Meantime a different scene has quietly
Been passing unperceived. That company
Of ministering women Rachel found,
Salomé, and the Marys, blessed name!
With others who had followed and bewailed
When Jesus suffered—these, joined now by those
From Bethany, with Lazarus, prevailed
To edge their way ungrudged through the close ranks
Of idle gazers round not undisposed
Themselves to sympathize, until they stood
Nigh Stephen, and in undertones could speak
With him, and hear his words.
"Weep not for me,"
He said, "ye blesséd! I am well content.
I think how short the way is, not how sharp,
To Jesus where just now I saw Him. There
He stood in heaven on the right hand of God.
He seemed to lean toward me with arms outstretched
As if at once to take me to Himself!
I spring toward Him with joy unutterable.
I shall not feel the pain, which will but speed
Me thither. He hath overcome the world.
Be of good cheer, belovéd, ye who wait
A little longer to behold His face.
For you too He hath overcome the world.
Be strong, be faithful, be obedient,
A little while—and we shall meet again
Safe, happy, in the New Jerusalem,
Forever and forever with the Lord.

"But Ruth, my wife, yet unbelieving—care
For her and for my children! God will give
All to our prayers. And Husband He will be
To her, and Father to the fatherless."

Rachel to Lazarus whispered:
"Tell him I,
Rachel, Saul's sister, would do something. Ask
What I may do for Ruth, to testify
A sister's sorrow for a brother's fault.
And let him not think hardly, not too hardly,
Of Saul who wrongs him so!"

And Lazarus
Told Stephen, who, with look benign addressed
To Rachel, said:
"Thou, Rachel, thou thyself,
No other, shalt to Ruth my wife convey
Her husband's very last farewell; good-night
Call it, and bid her meet me there to say
Good-morning. Comfort her with words. To Saul
Say—when the time comes he will hear, not now—
That all is well, is wholly well. I go—
And that is well—perhaps in part through him,
Which seems not well, but is, by grace of Christ,
Who thus, in part through me—and surely that
Likewise is well—erelong will make of Saul,
In Stephen's room, a more than Stephen both
To preach and suffer for His name. This hope
Be thine, Rachel, and God be with thee, child!"

Martha, her hand as ready as her heart,
Had other cheer provided than of words.
'The willing spirit, if the flesh be weak,
May faint,' she thought, 'and angels strengthening Him
Brought Jesus succor in Gethsemane.
May I not be his angel, Stephen's, now,
And his flesh brace to bear his agony?'
She said to Stephen:
"I have brought thee here
A cake of barley and a honeycomb.
I pray thee eat and cheer therewith thy heart."
"God bless thee, Martha, for thy loving thought!"
Said Stephen; and he took the food from her
And ate it, giving thanks before them all.
And all with him gave thanks, for nothing else
Could so have cheered them in their sad estate
As thus to see their friend at such an hour
Cheering himself with food, his appetite
Not troubled by least trouble of the mind,
And he approved superior to his lot,
Not by a strain of high heroic pride,
Not by access of transient ecstasy,
But simply by the sober confidence,
Well-grounded, of the soul enduring all
As seeing Him Who is invisible.
Besides, had any deemed that Martha erred,
Inopportunely ministering to the flesh,
When spirit unsupported by the flesh
As well had conquered, and more gloriously,
Haply, too, letting this their thought escape,
Unmeant, in look or gesture, to her pain—
Such might, in Stephen's gracious act, have heard
As if a silent echo of those words—
Ineffably persuasive sweet reproof
At once and soft assuagement of unease—
"Why trouble ye the woman? She hath wrought
A good work for Me."
But the Sanhedrim,
Permitted by the Roman to resume
Their way with Stephen, now to him once more
Their notice turned. Within their heart enraged,
First, to have met with such a check, and then,
Scarce less, so to have had the check removed—
Both this and that their sense of bondage chafed—
Ill brooked it they to see what now they saw,
Their prisoner in calm converse with his friends.

"Begone!" to these they cried. "For shame to show
Untimely softness thus to whom ye see
Your rulers judge worthy of death. Begone!"

One churl among those councillors was found,
When Stephen gently bade his friends give way,
Even for his own sake, who could least endure
To see them suffer roughness, most unmeet
For such as they—one graceless churl was found
To raise his hand at Stephen speaking so
And smite him on the mouth. A wail at this
Broke from those women, and their hair they tore
In passion of compassion and of wrath
Holy as love. But Stephen was most meek,
And only in a shadowed look expressed
Pain at such painful sympathy with pain.
This seen by those, they soon responsively
Resumed composure like his own, and walked,
Following, molested not, at small remove
From the belovéd martyr, cheering him,
And cheered, with sense of some society.

So, on, with going less precipitate,
And less vociferous rage, but not less fell,
Moved the infatuate multitude, repressed
And maddened, both at once, to feel themselves
Only by sufferance masters of the fate
Of Stephen, and their very footsteps timed
To regular and slow behind those few
Austere, impassive, automatic men
Armed, who, though few they might be, yet meant Rome.

Arrived at length at the accurséd spot,
They stay. The ground about was strewn with stones,
Rejected fragments from the quarry cleft,
Flakes from the mason's chisel, interspersed
Dilapidations from the city walls
Twice overthrown and razed, or missiles thence
Once by defenders on assailants hurled.
They stay, and, Stephen stationed in the midst
Where, first, a circle of spectators round
Was ordered in disorderly array,
Prepare to act their dreadful blasphemy.

Within, opposed to Stephen, Saul stood, pale,
Blanched with resolve, anguished, and tremulous,
But in nerve shaken, not in will, to take
His part. Saul's part was only to consent.
Perhaps the eyes, the beautiful sad eyes,
Of Rachel, dark and liquid ever, now
Unfathomably deep with unshed tears—
Perhaps such eyes, his sister's, fixed on him,
He seeing not because he would not see,
Wrought yet some holy spell that charmed him back
Insensibly from part more active there.
But his consent Saul testified with sign
Open to all to see, and understood.
He held the outer robes thrown off of those
Who, disencumbered so, might, with main strength,
And aim made sure, the better speed to fling
At that meek heavenly man the murderous stone.

Those witnesses malign who had forsworn
Stephen to this, were first to cast at him
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;
For they too turned their faces upward all,
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
To their account." Therewith he fell asleep.
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
He prayed, and where he fell, and whence he rose
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;
The hair and beard then decently arranged,
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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