Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Christina Rossetti

by Christina Rossetti

  Till God was magnified.

  And now a strong Evangelist, St. Mark

  Hath for his sign a Lion in his strength;

  And thro’ the stormy water’s breadth and length

  He helps to steer God’s Ark.

  Thus calls he sinners to be penitents,

  He kindles penitents to high desire,

  He mounts before them to the sphere of saints,

  And bids them come up higher.

  ST. BARNABAS

  “Now when we had discovered Cyprus, we left it on the left hand.” — Acts xxi. 3.

  “We sailed under Cyprus, because the winds were contrary.” — Acts xxvii. 4.

  St. Barnabas, with John his sister’s son,

  Set sail for Cyprus; leaving in their wake

  That chosen Vessel, who for Jesus’ sake

  Proclaimed the Gentiles and the Jews at one.

  Divided while united, each must run

  His mighty course not hell should overtake;

  And pressing toward the mark must own the ache

  Of love, and sigh for heaven not yet begun.

  For saints in life-long exile yearn to touch

  Warm human hands, and commune face to face;

  But these we know not ever met again:

  Yet once St. Paul at distance overmuch

  Just sighted Cyprus; and once more in vain

  Neared it and passed; — not there his landing-place.

  VIGIL OF ST. PETER

  O Jesu, gone so far apart

  Only my heart can follow Thee,

  That look which pierced St. Peter’s heart

  Turn now on me.

  Thou Who dost search me thro’ and thro’

  And mark the crooked ways I went,

  Look on me, Lord, and make me too

  Thy penitent.

  ST. PETER

  “Launch out into the deep,” Christ spake of old

  To Peter: and he launched into the deep;

  Strengthened should tempest wake which lay asleep,

  Strengthened to suffer heat or suffer cold.

  Thus, in Christ’s Prescience: patient to behold

  A fall, a rise, a scaling Heaven’s high steep;

  Prescience of Love, which deigned to overleap

  The mire of human errors manifold.

  Lord, Lover of Thy Peter, and of him

  Beloved with craving of a humbled heart

  Which eighteen hundred years have satisfied;

  Hath he his throne among Thy Seraphim

  Who love? or sits he on a throne apart,

  Unique, near Thee, to love Thee human-eyed?

  ST. PETER ONCE: “LORD, DOST THOU WASH MY FEET?”

  St. Peter once: “Lord, dost Thou wash my feet?” —

  Much more I say: Lord, dost Thou stand and knock

  At my closed heart more rugged than a rock,

  Bolted and barred, for Thy soft touch unmeet,

  Nor garnished nor in any wise made sweet?

  Owls roost within and dancing satyrs mock.

  Lord, I have heard the crowing of the cock

  And have not wept: ah, Lord, Thou knowest it.

  Yet still I hear Thee knocking, still I hear:

  “Open to Me, look on Me eye to eye,

  That I may wring thy heart and make it whole;

  And teach thee love because I hold thee dear,

  And sup with thee in gladness soul with soul,

  And sup with thee in glory by and by.”

  I FOLLOWED THEE, MY GOD, I FOLLOWED THEE

  I followed Thee, my God, I followed Thee

  To see the end:

  I turned back flying from Gethsemane,

  Turned back on flying steps to see

  Thy Face, my God, my Friend.

  Even fleeing from Thee my heart clave to Thee:

  I turned perforce

  Constrained, yea chained by love which maketh free;

  I turned perforce, and silently

  Followed along Thy course.

  Lord, didst Thou know that I was following Thee?

  I weak and small

  Yet Thy true lover, mean tho’ I must be,

  Sinning and sorrowing — didst Thou see?

  O Lord, Thou sawest all.

  I thought I had been strong to die for Thee;

  I disbelieved

  Thy word of warning spoken patiently:

  My heart cried, “That be far from me,”

  Till Thy bruised heart I grieved.

  Once I had urged: “Lord, this be far from Thee:” —

  Rebel to light,

  It needed first that Thou shouldst die for me

  Or ever I could plumb and see

  Love’s lovely depth and height.

  Alas that I should trust myself, not Thee;

  Not trust Thy word:

  I faithless slumberer in Gethsemane,

  Blinded and rash; who instantly

  Put trust, but in a sword.

  Ah Lord, if even at the last in Thee

  I had put faith,

  I might even at the last have counselled me,

  And not have heaped up cruelty

  To sting Thee in Thy death.

  Alas for me, who bore to think on Thee

  And yet to lie:

  While Thou, O Lord, didst bear to look on me

  Goaded by fear to blasphemy,

  And break my heart and die.

  No balm I find in Gilead, yet in Thee

  Nailed to Thy palm

  I find a balm that wrings and comforts me:

  Balm wrung from Thee by agony,

  My balm, mine only balm.

  Oh blessed John who standeth close to Thee,

  With Magdalene,

  And Thine own Mother praying silently,

  Yea, blessed above women she,

  Now blessed even as then.

  And blessed the scorned thief who hangs by Thee,

  Whose thirsting mouth

  Thirsts for Thee more than water, whose eyes see,

  Whose lips confess in ecstasy

  Nor feel their parching drouth.

  Like as the hart the water-brooks I Thee

  Desire, my hands

  I stretch to Thee; O kind Lord, pity me:

  Lord, I have wept, wept bitterly,

  I driest of dry lands.

  Lord, I am standing far far off from Thee;

  Yet is my heart

  Hanging with Thee upon the accursed tree;

  The nails, the thorns, pierce Thee and me:

  My God, I claim my part.

  Scarce in Thy throne and kingdom; yet with Thee

  In shame, in loss,

  In Thy forsaking, in Thine agony:

  Love crucified, behold even me,

  Me also bear Thy cross.

  VIGIL OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW

  Lord, to Thine own grant watchful hearts and eyes;

  Hearts strung to prayer, awake while eyelids sleep;

  Eyes patient till the end to watch and weep.

  So will sleep nourish power to wake and rise

  With Virgins who keep vigil and are wise,

  To sow among all sowers who shall reap,

  From out man’s deep to call Thy vaster deep,

  And tread the uphill track to Paradise.

  Sweet souls! so patient that they make no moan,

  So calm on journey that they seem at rest,

  So rapt in prayer that half they dwell in heaven

  Thankful for all withheld and all things given;

  So lit by love that Christ shines manifest

  Transfiguring their aspects to His own.

  ST. BARTHOLOMEW

  He bore an agony whereof the name

  Hath turned his fellows pale:

  But what if God should call us to the same,

  Should call, and we should fail?

  Nor earth nor sea could swallow up our shame,

  Nor darkness draw a veil:

  For he endured that agony whose n
ame

  Hath made his fellows quail.

  ST. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS

  “Ye that excel in strength.”

  Service and strength, God’s Angels and Archangels;

  His Seraphs fires, and lamps His Cherubim:

  Glory to God from highest and from lowest,

  Glory to God in everlasting hymn

  From all His creatures.

  Princes that serve, and Powers that work His pleasure,

  Heights that soar to’ard Him, Depths that sink to’ard Him;

  Flames fire out-flaming, chill beside His Essence;

  Insight all-probing, save where scant and dim

  To’ard its Creator.

  Sacred and free exultant in God’s pleasure,

  His Will their solace, thus they wait on Him;

  And shout their shout of ecstasy eternal,

  And trim their splendours that they burn not dim

  To’ard their Creator.

  Wherefore with Angels, wherefore with Archangels,

  With lofty Cherubs, loftier Seraphim,

  We laud and magnify our God Almighty,

  And veil our faces rendering love to Him

  With all His creatures.

  VIGIL OF ALL SAINTS

  Up, my drowsing eyes!

  Up, my sinking heart!

  Up to Jesus Christ arise!

  Claim your part

  In all raptures of the skies.

  Yet a little while,

  Yet a little way,

  Saints shall reap and rest and smile

  All the day.

  Up! let’s trudge another mile.

  ALL SAINTS

  As grains of sand, as stars, as drops of dew,

  Numbered and treasured by the Almighty Hand,

  The Saints triumphant throng that holy land

  Where all things and Jerusalem are new.

  We know not half they sing or half they do,

  But this we know, they rest and understand;

  While like a conflagration freshly fanned

  Their love glows upward, outward, thro’ and thro’.

  Lo! like a stream of incense launched on flame

  Fresh Saints stream up from death to life above,

  To shine among those others and rejoice:

  What matters tribulation whence they came?

  All love and only love can find a voice

  Where God makes glad His Saints, for God is Love.

  ALL SAINTS: MARTYRS

  Once slain for Him Who first was slain for them,

  Now made alive in Him for evermore,

  All luminous and lovely in their gore

  With no more buffeting winds or tides to stem

  The Martyrs look for New Jerusalem;

  And cry “How long?” remembering all they bore,

  “How long?” with heart and eyes sent on before

  Toward consummated throne and diadem.

  “How long?” White robes are given to their desire;

  “How long?” deep rest that is and is to be;

  With a great promise of the oncoming host,

  Loves to their love and fires to flank their fire:

  So rest they, worshipping incessantly

  One God, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

  I GAVE A SWEET SMELL

  Saints are like roses when they flush rarest,

  Saints are like lilies when they bloom fairest,

  Saints are like violets sweetest of their kind:

  Bear in mind

  This today. Then tomorrow:

  All like roses rarer than the rarest,

  All like lilies fairer than the fairest,

  All like violets sweeter than we know.

  Be it so.

  Tomorrow blots out sorrow.

  HARK! THE ALLELUIAS OF THE GREAT SALVATION

  Hark! the Alleluias of the great salvation

  Still beginning, never ending, still begin,

  The thunder of an endless adoration:

  Open ye the gates, that the righteous nation

  Which have kept the truth may enter in.

  Roll ye back, ye pearls, on your twelvefold station:

  No more deaths to die, no more fights to win!

  Lift your heads, ye gates, that the righteous nation

  Led by the Great Captain of their sole salvation,

  Having kept the truth, may enter in.

  A SONG FOR THE FEAST OF ALL SAINTS

  Love is the key of life and death,

  Of hidden heavenly mystery:

  Of all Christ is, of all He saith,

  Love is the key.

  As three times to His Saint He saith,

  He saith to me, He saith to thee,

  Breathing His Grace-conferring Breath:

  “Lovest thou Me?”

  Ah, Lord, I have such feeble faith,

  Such feeble hope to comfort me:

  But love it is, is strong as death,

  And I love Thee.

  SUNDAY BEFORE ADVENT

  The end of all things is at hand. We all

  Stand in the balance trembling as we stand;

  Or if not trembling, tottering to a fall.

  The end of all things is at hand.

  O hearts of men, covet the unending land!

  O hearts of men, covet the musical,

  Sweet, never-ending waters of that strand!

  While Earth shows poor, a slippery rolling ball,

  And Hell looms vast, a gulf unplumbed, unspanned,

  And Heaven flings wide its gates to great and small,

  The end of all things is at hand.

  GIFTS AND GRACES

  CONTENTS

  LOVE LOVETH THEE, AND WISDOM LOVETH THEE

  LORD, GIVE ME LOVE THAT I MAY LOVE THEE MUCH

  AS A KING, … . UNTO THE KING

  O YE WHO LOVE TODAY

  LIFE THAT WAS BORN TODAY

  PERFECT LOVE CASTETH OUT FEAR

  HOPE IS THE COUNTERPOISE OF FEAR

  SUBJECT TO LIKE PASSIONS AS WE ARE

  EXPERIENCE BOWS A SWEET CONTENTED FACE

  CHARITY NEVER FAILETH

  THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY

  ALL BENEATH THE SUN HASTETH

  IF THOU BE DEAD, FORGIVE AND THOU SHALT LIVE

  LET PATIENCE HAVE HER PERFECT WORK

  PATIENCE MUST DWELL WITH LOVE, FOR LOVE AND SORROW

  LET EVERYTHING THAT HATH BREATH PRAISE THE LORD

  WHAT IS THE BEGINNING? LOVE. WHAT THE COURSE? LOVE STILL

  LORD, MAKE ME PURE

  LOVE, TO BE LOVE, MUST WALK THY WAY

  LORD, I AM FEEBLE AND OF MEAN ACCOUNT

  TUNE ME, O LORD, INTO ONE HARMONY

  THEY SHALL BE AS WHITE AS SNOW

  THY LILIES DRINK THE DEW

  WHEN I WAS IN TROUBLE I CALLED UPON THE LORD

  GRANT US SUCH GRACE THAT WE MAY WORK THY WILL

  WHO HATH DESPISED THE DAY OF SMALL THINGS?

  DO THIS, AND HE DOETH IT

  THAT NO MAN TAKE THY CROWN

  YE ARE COME UNTO MOUNT SION

  SIT DOWN IN THE LOWEST ROOM

  LORD, IT IS GOOD FOR US TO BE HERE

  LORD, GRANT US GRACE TO REST UPON THY WORD

  LOVE LOVETH THEE, AND WISDOM LOVETH THEE

  Love loveth Thee, and wisdom loveth Thee:

  The love that loveth Thee sits satisfied;

  Wisdom that loveth Thee grows million-eyed,

  Learning what was, and is, and is to be.

  Wisdom and love are glad of all they see;

  Their heart is deep, their hope is not denied;

  They rock at rest on time’s unresting tide,

  And wait to rest thro’ long eternity.

  Wisdom and love and rest, each holy soul

  Hath these today while day is only night:

  What shall souls have when morning brings to light

  Love, wisdom, rest, God’s treasure stored above?

  Palm shall they have, and harp and aureole,


  Wisdom, rest, love — and lo! the whole is love.

  LORD, GIVE ME LOVE THAT I MAY LOVE THEE MUCH

  Lord, give me love that I may love Thee much,

  Yea, give me love that I may love Thee more,

  And all for love may worship and adore

  And touch Thee with love’s consecrated touch.

  I halt today; be love my cheerful crutch,

  My feet to plod, some day my wings to soar:

  Some day; but, Lord, not any day before

  Thou call me perfect, having made me such.

  This is a day of love, a day of sorrow,

  Love tempering sorrow to a sort of bliss;

  A day that shortens while we call it long:

  A longer day of love will dawn tomorrow,

  A longer, brighter, lovelier day than this,

  Endless, all love, no sorrow, but a song.

  AS A KING, … . UNTO THE KING

  Love doth so grace and dignify

  That beggars treat as king with king

  Before the Throne of God most High:

  Love recognizes love’s own cry,

  And stoops to take love’s offering.

  A loving heart, tho’ soiled and bruised;

  A kindling heart, tho’ cold before;

  Who ever came and was refused

  By Love? Do, Lord, as Thou art used

  To do, and make me love Thee more.

  O YE WHO LOVE TODAY

  O ye who love today,

  Turn away

  From Patience with her silver ray:

  For Patience shows a twilight face,

  Like a half-lighted moon

  When daylight dies apace.