ELIAS

The Works Alexander Brown Bell

John Struthers, Shoemaker, and Other Verse

THE PURGING OF ELIAS.

Before the altar Monk Elias knelt, 

His soul poured out in prayer; for on him sore 

Had fallen the weariness that sympathy 

Sucks from the suffering it seeks to help, 

And cannot, baulked by its own impotence. 

His spirit sank within him at the thought 

Of toil down-borne by sin, of high emprise 

Come short of by the will's weak slackening, 

And he was sick with longing after peace, 

For the command to lay aside his sword, 

Undo his armour, cease the endless strife. 

Wherefore his cry to God was all for rest-- 

That rest remaining for God's chosen ones 

Who hold their faith unfaltering to the end. 


Before the altar as Elias knelt 

He in a vision saw the heavens laid bare. 

The fields of Paradise out-breathed strange calm. 

No sound was there of conflict, nor the hum 

That tells of toil: nought but a far-off hint 

Of music, and of spirits that laughed and played. 


Then sudden through the quiet clanged a Voice, 

Saying:"Speak, Elias, all that's in thine heart, 

And see how blessed in that rest thou seek'st." 


Straight on the word Elias entered in. 

He saw the tree of life its healing spread; 

The river, with its placid tide, he marked; 

The gates of pearl, the streets of gold, the light

That never waned, and owned no source but God. 

"Mid jasper walls to right and left he passed 

To where a mighty palace proud up-reared 

Its massive front against the opal sky. 

Beneath its peerless central dome, high-poised 

On crystal stays, and woven of film of pearl 

That seemed to float in mid-air motionless, 

Elias blinded stood before a throne 

Of blazing sapphire, whence that clangent 

Voice Cried:"Who art thou that comest to destroy 

Our rest?" 


Elias, with creation's woe 

Burning his heart out, prayed:"0 Lord, how long?“ 

“The heaven and earth are made, and all their host, 

“ God answered. “It is now the seventh day. 

This is my holy Sabbath, when I rest." 


But still Elias prayed:"Give us, too, rest. 

Earth's woe is very heavy, and sin and death 

Ride prosperously on, and conquer all; 

And we who keep Thy truth are sorely spent." 


Then God:"There was no sin i' the world I made, 

No death. I left it chained to golden laws 

That would have held it spellbound to its course. 

What man has marred, let man re-make. He's sinned; 

Then let him suffer. As for Me, I rest, 

Nor move a finger till Creation's morn 

Rebreak. Then come......But then I'll need no prayers 

To spill my wrath on those that have defiled 

My earth, Till then....." 


Despair dulled the monk's heart. 

He turned to where the sad-eyed Christ sat mute 

Upon His Father's footstool,motionless, 

With folded, nail-pierced hands. "Oh Christ! "

He cried, "hast Thou, too, ceased to love our earth? 

Thou who didst die for it, take Thy power, and reign." 


But Christ with drear eyes gazed on him. "Oh man;

I too have looked upon earth's misery, 

And thought to heal its wounds, I came, 

I wrought, I suffered, and I died. In vain. 

No triumph Mine. Sin was too strong. My death 

Availeth but to keep the spark of life 

Aflame i' the hearts of a few faithful ones. 

Earth's salt, they keep't from putrifying wholly. 

I can no more. My work is done. I wait." 


The vision changed. Heaven vanished from his sight. 

He stood alone beneath a starry sky, 

Among the graves of men long turned to dust. 

Then the earth oped, and down the rent he saw 

A corpse with sightless eyes and fleshless hands;

And from its hollow throat he heard a voice 

In dreadful monotone cry: “Monk Elias, 

I, too, have felt the burden of the world, 

And of the curbing of a sinful heart, 

And longed for quittance. Lo. to me ‘tis come. 

So now I lie, and watch the ranked years 

In grim procession toil their fruitless way, 

And hear the sob of all earth's misery, 

But make nor move nor moan. I lie, and rot. 

My limbs are worms and dust. That ancient yew 

Is rooted in my breast. I am at peace. 

To this rest thou shalt come, and, like me, lie 

Till God awake, and bid His trumpet sound:' Arise!" 


The dead voice ceased, and lo. once more 

Elias was upon the altar stairs. 

But now he prayed no more for rest from strife; 

For, rising to his feet, by conscience stung, 

He stretched his hands to heaven, and, with a shout 

That rang through all the empty vastness round, 

He cried: "Not rest, not rest, oh Lord! But strength-- 

Strength to take up Thy battle, and fight on, 

Yea, to the last blood drop.


Then cracked his heart. 

His clay fell prone before the crucifix; 

His soul sprang up, its sword-arm free at last, 

And flew to Armageddon with a cheer.

Editors note: Elias is the Greek spelling - presentation of the biblical prophet Elijah.

John Struthers , Shoemaker and Other Verse

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