Part 25 (2/2)
_The Angel of Good Deeds (with closed book_). G.o.d sent his messenger the rain, And said unto the mountain brook, ”Rise up, and from thy caverns look And leap, with naked, snow-white feet.
From the cool hills into the heat Of the broad, arid plain.”
G.o.d sent his messenger of faith, And whispered in the maiden's heart, ”Rise up, and look from where thou art, And scatter with unselfish hands Thy freshness on the barren sands And solitudes of Death.”
O beauty of holiness, Of self-forgetfulness, of lowliness!
O power of meekness, Whose very gentleness and weakness Are like the yielding, but irresistible air!
Upon the pages Of the sealed volume that I bear, The deed divine Is written in characters of gold, That never shall grow old, But all through ages Burn and s.h.i.+ne, With soft effulgence!
O G.o.d! it is thy indulgence That fills the world with the bliss Of a good deed like this!
_The Angel of Evil Deeds (with open book)._ Not yet, not yet Is the red sun wholly set, But evermore recedes, While open still I bear The Book of Evil Deeds, To let the breathings of the upper air Visit its pages and erase The records from its face!
Fainter and fainter as I gaze On the broad blaze The glimmering landscape s.h.i.+nes, And below me the black river Is hidden by wreaths of vapor!
Fainter and fainter the black lines Begin to quiver Along the whitening surface of the paper; Shade after shade The terrible words grow faint and fade, And in their place Runs a white s.p.a.ce!
Down goes the sun!
But the soul of one, Who by repentance Has escaped the dreadful sentence, s.h.i.+nes bright below me as I look.
It is the end!
With closed Book To G.o.d do I ascend.
Lo! over the mountain steeps A dark, gigantic shadow sweeps Beneath my feet; A blackness inwardly brightening With sullen heat, As a storm-cloud lurid with lightning.
And a cry of lamentation, Repeated and again repeated, Deep and loud As the reverberation Of cloud answering unto cloud, Swells and rolls away in the distance, As if the sheeted Lightning retreated, Baffled and thwarted by the wind's resistance.
It is Lucifer, The son of mystery; And since G.o.d suffers him to be, He, too, is G.o.d's minister, And labors for some good By us not understood!
<script>