Earth rose from wintry sleep[14], baptized and cleansed,
And on her tranquil brow, that seemed to feel
The holy and confirming hand of Heaven,
The warm light in a wealth of comfort streamed;
Nature's great floor green-carpeting anew
For some glad change, some joyful happening, 1170
Told in the countless caroling of birds,
Gilding the foliage, glorying the flowers,
Mirroring mingled hues of earth and sky.
Glad happening, in sooth, for ne'er before,
Since burst the heavens when Judah's star-lit hills
Heard angel choristers peal joy's refrain
Above the mangered Babe of Bethlehem,
Had earth such scene beheld, as now within
The bosom of a sylvan solitude,
Hard by the borders of a humble home, 1180
Upon that fair and fateful morn was played.
Players, immortal twain and mortal one,
Standing but fourteen steps upon life's stair,
An unlearned boy, thinker of thoughts profound,
Boy and yet man, dreamer of lofty dreams.
Not solemn, save betimes, when hovered near
Some wingéd inspiration from far worlds,
Some great idea's all-subduing spell—
His heart grew humbler then, his look more grave;
Not melancholy—mirthful, loving life, 1190
And brimming o'er with health and wholesome glee.
A stalwart spirit in a sturdy frame,
Maturing unto future mightiness.
Bowing to God, yet bending to no creed,
Adoring not a loveless deity,
That saved or damned regardless of desert,
Ne'er reckoning the good or evil done;
Loving and worshipping the God of love,
The gracious God of reason and of right,
Long-suffering and just and merciful, 1200
Meting to every work fit recompense,
Yet giving more, far more, than merit's claim;
Bowing to Him, but not to man-made gods,
And shunning shameful strife where peace should dwell,
He holds aloof from those degenerate sects,
Bewildering Babel of conflicting creeds,
And pondering the apostolic line,
"Let any lacking wisdom, wisdom ask,
And God will freely give, upbraiding none,"
He puts the promise to the utter test. 1210
What pen can paint the marvel that befell?
What tongue the wondrous miracle portray?
Than theirs, the Vision's own, what voice proclaim
Whose dual presence[15] dimmed the noonday beam,
Communing with him there, as friend with friend,
And giving to that prayer reply of peace?
Tell how, as Moses on the unknown mount[16],
From whom in rage fled baffled Lucifer,
Who fain had guised him as the Son of God,
To win the worship of that prophet pure— 1220
Tell how with gloom he strove ere glory dawned,
And black despair met bright deliverance.
Tell how in heart of that sweet solitude,
Within the silent grove, sequestered shade,
While spirit hosts unseen spectators stood,
Watching the simple scene's sublimity,
Eternity high converse held with time;
Time, parent of the hovering centuries,
Mother of dispensations, travailing,
And bringing forth her last and mightiest child; 1230
Heaven's awful Sire, through Him both Sire and Son,
There blazoning the beginning of the end.
Wane the swift years; the boy a youth now grown;
And on his brow, woe-carved, a world of care.
Bending, an Atlas,[17] 'neath the titan's load,
Daily he climbs the hill of sacrifice,
Viewing from far the mount of martyrdom.
Nor marvel at his lot; hath he not told—
A crime man ne'er forgave in fellowman—
Told the wise world that God hath spoke again? 1240
"'Twas from below!" Thus bigotry in rage.
"Nay, from above," the meek though firm reply.
"No vision is there now—the time is past."
"But I have seen," affirms truth's constancy.
"God is a mystery, unknowable."
"God is a man—I saw Him, talked with Him."
"Man?" "Ay, of holiness—Exalted Man[18]."