Zinzendorff and Other Poems/The Communion
THE COMMUNION.
"Master! it is good to be here."—Mark ix. 5.
They knelt them side by side; the hoary man
Whose memory was an age, and she whose cheek
Gleam'd like that velvet, which the young moss-rose
Puts blushing forth, from its scarce sever'd sheath.
There was the sage,—whose eye of science spans
The comet in his path of fire,—and she
Whose household duty was her sole delight,
And highest study. On the chancel clasp'd,
In meek devotion, were those bounteous hands
That scatter thousands at the call of Christ,
And his, whose labor wins the scanty bread
For his young children. There the man of might
On bended knee, fast by his servant's side,
Sought the same Master,—brethren in the faith,
And fellow-pilgrims.
See, yon wrinkled brow
Where care and grief for many a year have trac'd
Alternate furrows,—near that ruby lip,
Which but the honey and the dew of love
Have nourish'd. And for each, eternal health
Descendeth here.
Look! Look! as yon deep veil
Is swept aside, what an o'erwhelming page
Disease hath written with its pen of pain.
Ah, gentle sister, thou art hasting where
No treacherous hectic plants its funeral rose:
Drink thou the wine-cup of thy risen Lord,
And it shall nerve thee for thy toilsome path
Through the dark valley of the shade of death.
—'Tis o'er. A holy silence reigns around.
The organ slumbers. The sweet, solemn voice
Of him who dealt the soul its heavenly food
Turns inward, like a wearied sentinel,
Pillowing on thought profound.
Then every head
Bows down in parting worship, mute and deep,
The whisper of the soul. And who may tell
In that brief, silent space, how many a hope
Is born that hath a life beyond the tomb.
—So hear us, Father! in our voiceless prayer,
That at thy better banquet, all may meet,
And take the cup of bliss, and thirst no more.