Poems (Hoffman)/The Redeemer
THE REDEEMER
Down through the ancient corridors of TimeIsaiah's deathless song rolled full and sweet,It swayed the universe with tones sublime,It shook the mighty monarchies of CrimeAnd held within its eloquence completeA prophecy of Satan's sure defeat.
Over Earth's waving fields and wave-beat shore,Over her pomp and glory, pride and gold,O'er Art's magnificence in cities old,O'er Nature's artless beauty, sped the wordFresh from the living presence of the LordAnd wise men marveled at its mystic lore.
Not only to the mighty did it come,Into the darkened hovels of the poorSwift did the heralds their glad message bear,On noiseless wings oped Heaven's mystic doorRevealing all the hidden glory thereAnd lo, the prophet saw his living Lord,
His matchless throne and gracious seraphim,He heard the message of the King of KingsAnd when the pearly gates swung back againAnd the blest vision vanished from his sightHe trod the paths of this world's starless nightAs one who had beheld eternal things.
And from his burning pen glad PropheciesCaught holy wings and from the sacred scrollFlew to the earth's remotest boundariesFraught with redemption for the ruined soul.
Ages passed by, the holy prophet slept;Man hears no more the music of his voiceHis image was not on the land or seaStill his blest writings made the world rejoiceAnd still his glad and touching prophecyOver a world of sorrow, smiled and wept.
Hushed was the holy night, the wise men trodJudea's winding paths to BethlehemTheir glad eyes fixed on one resplendent gemUpheld and guided by the hand of GodThat bathed the Orient in celestial light;
Onward it moved in majesty sublimeIts mellow beams winging their flight to earthFraught with glad tidings of the Saviour's birthAnd then ascending to the throne divineTo tell the angels of a world redeemed,O'er Heaven's own hosts the wondrous glory streamed.
Earth in her rapture had so glorious grownThat e'en the angels could not stay at homeBut left the realm of Heaven to join the strainThat God's great universe could scarce contain,The wonders of the great redemption planDestined to rescue fallen, ruined man.
O prophets of to-day! Isaiah spakeOf Christ's first coming to a world of sin,To-day his inspired prophecy awakeAnd yet a newer triumph-hymn begin,Sing, 'till yon heavens take up the rapturous strain,
Jesus has come and he shall come again,Not as before a meek and lowly child,Not as before to die upon the cross,Not as before in dark GethsemaneTo suffer for a world of sinners lost;He comes to treasure up earth's grain and gold,He comes to cast away her chaff and drossTo separate the pure from the defiled.
Not from an humble stable shall He riseTo tread a thorny path of woe and pain;Christ shall descend from Heaven's unclouded skiesWith angels and archangels in His train,Lo, He shall come with trumpet and with shout,Mortals let not your flickering lamps go out,Jesus has come and He shall come again.