Help me, for life is dear: The growing rapture of the summer morn, The cedared hills, and soft-cheeked roses born Within the cooling breath of Hermon’s snow, The rare reluctant shaded streams, The sea that sings, and weeps, and dreams; I love them: Thou dost know.
I loved my father’s faith: The synagogue with all its sacred gear, The feasts that guard the march of every year, The trumpets, lamps, and waving of the palms, The azure fringe on robes like milk, The yellow scrolls wrapped round with silk, The triumph of the Psalms.
I loved to preach the truth, To thrust and parry in a fair debate, To trace God’s dayspring in His nation’s fate, To lift up Christ, who dying broke death’s bands; I loved to give men joy for sighs, To win the thanks of widows’ eyes, And children’s trustful hands.
“The truth.” Yes, I will die. This chafing Sanhedrin shall not prevail To check me. They shall see the truth full-sail; They cannot sink truth, stone me though they can. Lord, I am ready. By thy grace No shade of fear shall cross my face, And I will play the man.
MEN ask why I am left alone: My brother, James, and Peter, all are slain; Brave men who met the surging crimson deep With equal minds. And Mary fell asleep, His mother whom He gave me for my own. But I with anchored hope remain.
I loved Him. It is long ago Since I with Mary stood upon the hill Where His last breath rose up in Sacrifice, While tears fell earthward from our burning eyes, And Jews were gibing on the slope below. And yet I know He loves me still.
He loved me. And whene’er I dream Of sunsets changing into glassy gold The waters of the Galilean lake, Or see in thought the Temple portals take A pearly softness from the moonlight gleam, He speaks with me, as once of old.
I love Him, for He first loved me. He let me lean upon His holy breast, He brought me first to view His empty grave; He bade me learn that only love can save, And call no fire from heaven but charity. I work and wait, for He knows best.
That Rome which now oppresses us, And all this rout of grey idolatry Shall soon dissolve. For I can see the Light Which guides the sun disperse the Asian night: And straight above the reek of Ephesus There burns the Love which died for me.