The messengers which soar above the sky,
Elijah's fiery chariot, that conveys
The soul, even here, to those eternal joys.
Thoughts are the privileged posts that soar
Unto His throne, and there appear before
Ourselves approach. These may at any time
Above the clouds, above the stars may climb.
The soul is present by a thought; and sees
The New Jerusalem, the palaces,
The thrones, and feasts, the regions of the sky,
The joys and treasures of the Deity.
His wisdom makes all things so bright and pure,
That they are worthy ever to endure.
His glorious works, His laws and counsels are,
When seen, all like Himself, beyond compare.
All ages with His love and glory shine,
As they are His all Kingdoms are Divine.
Whole hosts of Angels at His throne attend,
And joyful praises from His saints ascend.
Thousands of thousands kneel before His face
And all His benefits with joy embrace.
His goodness makes all creatures for His pleasure,
And makes itself His creatures' chiefest treasure.
Almighty power doth itself employ
In all its works to make itself the joy
Of all His hosts, and to complete the bliss
Which omnipresent and eternal is.
His omnipresence is an Endless Sphere,
Wherein all worlds as his delights appear:
His bounty is the spring of all delight;
Our blessedness, like His, is infinite.
His glory endless is and doth surround
And fill all worlds without or end or bound.
What hinders then but we in Heaven may be
Even here on Earth did we but rightly see?
As mountains, chariots, horsemen all on fire,
To guard Elisha did of old conspire,
Which yet his servant could not see, being blind,
Ourselves environ'd with His joys we find.
Eternity itself is that true light
That doth enclose us being infinite.
The very seas do overflow and swim
With precious nectars as they flow from Him.
The stable Earth which we beneath behold,
Is far more precious than if made of gold.
Fowls, fishes, beasts, trees, herbs, and precious flowers,
Seeds, spices, gums, and aromatic bowers,
Wherewith we are enclos'd and serv'd each day
By His appointment do their tributes pay,
And offer up themselves as gifts of love,
Bestowed on Saints, proceeding from above.
Could we but justly, wisely, truly prize
These blessings, we should be above the skies,
And praises sing with pleasant heart and voice,
Adoring with the Angels should rejoice.
The fertile clouds give rain, the purer air,
Is warm and wholesome, soft and bright and fair.
The stars are wonders which His wisdom names,
The glorious sun the knowing soul enflames.
The very Heavens in their sacred worth,
At once serve us and set His glory forth.
Their influences touch the grateful sense,
They please the eye with their magnificence;
While in His temple all His saints do sing,
And for His bounty praise their Heavenly King.
All these are in His omnipresence, still
As living waters from His throne they trill;
As tokens of His love they all flow down
Their beauty, use, and worth the soul do crown.
Men are like Cherubims on either hand
Whose flaming love by His divine command
Is made a sacrifice to ours; which streams
Throughout all worlds, and fills them all with beams.
We drink our fill, and take their beauty in,
While Jesus' blood refines the soul from sin.
His grievous Cross is a supreme delight,
And of all Heavenly ones the greatest sight.
His Throne is near, 'tis just before our face,
And all Eternity His dwelling-place,
His dwelling-place is full of joys and pleasures,
His throne a fountain of Eternal treasures.
His omnipresence is all sight and love,
Which whoso sees he ever dwells above.
With soft embraces it doth clasp the soul,
And watchfully all enemies control.
It enters in and doth a temple find,
Or make a living one within the mind,
That, while God's omnipresence in us lies,
His treasures might be all before our eyes:
For minds and souls intent upon them here,
Do with the Seraphim's above appear:
And are like spheres of bliss, by love and sight,
By joy, thanksgiving, praise, made infinite.
O give me grace to see Thy face, and be
A constant Mirror of Eternity.
Let my pure soul, transformed to a thought
Attend upon Thy Throne, and, as it ought,
Spend all its time in feeding on Thy love,
And never from Thy sacred presence move.
So shall my conversation ever be
In Heaven, and I, O Lord my God, with Thee!
GOODNESS
I
The bliss of other men is my delight,
(When once my principles are right:)
And every soul which mine doth see
A treasury.
The face of God is goodness unto all,
And while He thousands to His throne doth call,
While millions bathe in pleasures,
And do behold His treasures,
The joys of all
On mine do fall,
And even my infinity doth seem
A drop without them of a mean esteem.
II
The light which on ten thousand faces shines,
The beams which crown ten thousand vines
With glory, and delight, appear
As if they were
Reflected only from them all for me,
That I a greater beauty there might see.
Thus stars do beautify
The azure canopy:
Gilded with rays,
Ten thousand ways
They serve me, while the sun that on them shines
Adorns those stars and crowns those bleeding vines.
III
Where goodness is within, the soul doth reign.
Goodness the only Sovereign!
Goodness delights alone to see
Felicity.
And while the Image of His goodness lives
In me, whatever He to any gives
Is my delight and ends
In me, in all my friends:
For goodness is
The spring of bliss,
And 'tis the end of all it gives away
And all it gives it ever doth enjoy.
IV
His goodness! Lord, it is His highest glory!
The very grace of all His story!
What other thing can me delight
But the blest sight
Of His eternal goodness? While His love,
His burning love the bliss of all doth prove,
While it beyond the ends
Of Heaven and Earth extends,
And multiplies
Above the skies,
His glory, love, and goodness in my sight
Is for my pleasure made more infinite.
V
The soft and swelling grapes that on their vines
Receive the lively warmth that shines
Upon them, ripen there for me:
Or drink they be,
Or meat. The stars salute my pleased sense
With a derived and borrowed influence:
But better vines do grow,
Far better wines do flow
Above, and while
The Sun doth smile
Upon the lilies there, and all things warm,
Their pleasant odours do my spirit charm.
VI
Their rich affections me like precious seas
Of nectar and ambrosia please.
Their eyes are stars, or more divine
And brighter shine:
Their lips are soft and swelling grapes, their tongues
A quire of blessed and harmonious songs.
Their bosoms fraught with love
Are Heavens all Heavens above;
And being Images of God they are
The highest joys His goodness did prepare.
[THE SOUL'S GLORY]
In making bodies Love could not express
Itself, or art; unless it made them less.
O what a monster had in man been seen,
Had every thumb or toe a mountain been!
What worlds must he devour when he did eat?
What oceans drink? Yet could not all his meat,
Or stature, make him like an Angel shine;
Or make his soul in glory more divine.
A soul it is that makes us truly great,
Whose little bodies make us more complete.
An Understanding that is Infinite,
An endless, wide, and everlasting sight,
That can enjoy all things and nought exclude,
Is the most sacred greatness may be viewed.
'Twas inconvenient that his bulk should be
An endless hill; he nothing then could see:
No figure have, no motion, beauty, place,
No colour, feature, member, light, or grace:
A body like a mountain is but cumber,
An endless body is but idle lumber,
It spoils converse, and Time itself devours,
While meat in vain in feeding idle powers,
Excessive bulk being most injurious found,
To those conveniences which men have crown'd.
His wisdom did His power here repress,
God made man greater while He made him less.
[FINITE YET INFINITE]
His power bounded, greater is in might,
Than if let loose 'twere wholly infinite.
He could have made an endless Sea by this,
But then it had not been a Sea of Bliss.
Did water from the centre to the skies
Ascend, 'twould drown whatever else we prize.
The Ocean bounded in a finite shore,
Is better far because it is no more,
No use nor glory would in that be seen,
His power made it endless in esteem.
Had not the sun been bounded in its sphere,
Did all the world in one fair flame appear,
And were that flame a real infinite,
'Twould yield no profit, splendour, nor delight.
Its corps confined and beams extended be
Effects of wisdom in the Deity.
One star made infinite would all exclude,
An earth made infinite could ne'er be viewed.
But one being fashioned for the other's sake,
He bounding all, did all most useful make:
And which is best, in profit and delight,
Tho' not in bulk, they all are infinite.
ON NEWS
I
News from a foreign country came,
As if my treasure and my wealth lay there:
So much it did my heart enflame
'Twas wont to call my soul into mine ear,
Which thither went to meet
The approaching sweet,
And on the threshold stood,
To entertain the unknown Good.
It hovered there
As if 'twould leave mine ear,
And was so eager to embrace
The joyful tidings as they came,
'Twould almost leave its dwelling-place,
To entertain that same.
II
As if the tidings were the things,
My very joys themselves, my foreign treasure,
Or else did bear them on their wings;
With so much joy they came, with so much pleasure.
My Soul stood at that gate
To recreate
Itself with bliss: And to
Be pleased with speed. A fuller view
It fain would take,
Yet journeys back would make
Unto my heart: as if 'twould fain
Go out to meet, yet stay within
To fit a place, to entertain,
And bring the tidings in.
III
What sacred instinct did inspire
My Soul in childhood with a hope so strong?
What secret force mov'd my desire
To expect my joys beyond the seas, so young?
Felicity I knew
Was out of view:
And being here alone,
I saw that happiness was gone
From me! For this,
I thirsted absent bliss,
And thought that sure beyond the seas,
Or else in something near at hand
I knew not yet, (since nought did please
I knew) my Bliss did stand.
IV
But little did the infant dream
That all the treasures of the world were by:
And that himself was so the cream
And crown of all which round about did lie.
Yet thus it was: The gem,
The diadem,
The ring enclosing all
That stood upon this earthly ball;
The Heavenly Eye,
Much wider than the sky,
Wherein they all included were,
The glorious Soul that was the King
Made to possess them, did appear
A small and little thing!
[THE TRIUMPH]
I
A life of Sabbaths here beneath!
Continual Jubilees and Joys!
The days of Heaven, while we breathe
On Earth! where sin all bliss destroys:
This is a triumph of delights
That doth exceed all appetites!
No joy can be compared to this,
It is a life of perfect bliss.
II
Or perfect bliss! How can it be?
To conquer Satan and to reign
In such a vale of misery,
Where vipers, stings and tears remain,
Is to be crowned with victory.
To be content, divine, and free
Even here beneath is great delight,
And next the beatific sight.
III
But inward lusts do oft assail,
Temptations work us much annoy;
We'll therefore weep, and to prevail
Shall be a more celestial joy.
To have no other enemy
But one; and to that one to die:
To fight with that and conquer it,
Is better than in peace to sit.
IV
'Tis better for a little time:
For he that all his lusts doth quell,
Shall find this life to be his prime,
And vanquish sin and conquer hell.
The next shall be his double joy,
And that which here seemed to destroy
Shall in the other life appear
A root of Bliss; a pearl each tear.
[THE ONLY ILL]
I
Sin!
O only fatal woe,
That makes me sad and mourning go!
That all my joys dost spoil,
His Kingdom and my Soul defile!
I never can agree
With Thee.
II
Thou!
Only Thou! O Thou alone,
And my obdurate Heart of Stone,
The poison and the foes
Or my enjoyments and repose,
The only bitter ill:
Dost kill!
III
Oh!
I cannot meet with thee,
Nor once approach thy memory,
But all my joys are dead,
And all my sacred treasures fled,
As if I now did dwell
In Hell.
IV
Lord!
O hear how short I breathe!
See how I tremble here beneath
A sin! its ugly face
More terror than its dwelling-place
Contains, (O dreadful sin)
Within!
THE RECOVERY
Sin! wilt thou vanquish me!
And shall I yield the victory?
Shall all my joys be spoiled,
And pleasures soiled
By thee!
Shall I remain
As one that's slain
And never more lift up the head?
Is not my Saviour dead!
His blood, thy bane, my balsam, bliss, joy, wine,
Shall thee destroy; heal, feed, make me divine.
[THE GLORY OF ISRAEL]
I
In Salem dwelt a glorious King,
Rais'd from a shepherd's lowly state,
That did His praises like an angel sing
Who did the world create.
By many great and bloody wars
He was advanced unto thrones:
But more delighted in the stars
Than in the splendour of his precious stones.
Nor gold nor silver did his eye regard:
The works of God were his sublime reward.
II
A warlike champion he had been,
And many feats of chivalry
Had done: in kingly courts his eye had seen
A vast variety
Of earthly joys: yet he despised
Those fading honours and false pleasures
Which are by mortals so much prized;
And placed his happiness in other treasures:
No state of life which in this world we find
Could yield contentment to his greater mind.
III
His fingers touched his trembling lyre,
And every quivering string did yield
A sound that filled all the Jewish quire,
And echoed in the field.
No pleasure was so great to him
As in a silent night to see
The moon and stars: a Cherubim
Above them even here he seemed to be.
Enflamed with love it was his great desire,
To sing, contemplate, ponder, and admire.
IV
He was a prophet and foresaw
Things extant in the world to come:
He was a judge and ruled by a law
That than the honeycomb
Was sweeter far: he was a sage,
And all his people could advise;
An oracle whose every page
Contained in verse the greatest mysteries:
But most he then enjoy'd himself when he
Did as a poet praise the Deity.
V
A shepherd, soldier, and divine,
A judge, a courtier, and a king,
Priest, angel, prophet, oracle did shine
At once when he did sing.
Philosopher and poet too
Did in his melody appear;
All these in him did please the view
Of those that did his Heavenly music hear,
And every drop that from his flowing quill
Came down did all the world with nectar fill.
VI
He had a deep and perfect sense
Of all the glories and the pleasures
That in God's works are hid; the excellence
Of such transcendent treasures
Made him on earth an Heavenly King,
And fill'd his solitudes with joy;
He never did more sweetly sing
Than when alone, tho' that doth mirth destroy:
Sense did his soul with Heavenly life inspire
And made him seem in God's celestial quire.
VII
Rich, sacred, deep and precious things
Did here on earth the man surround:
With all the glory of the King of Kings
He was most strangely crown'd.
His clear soul and open sight
Among the Sons of God did see
Things filling angels with delight;
His ear did hear their Heavenly melodie
And when he was alone he all became,
That Bliss implied, or did increase his fame.
VIII
All arts he then did exercise;
And as his God he did adore,
By secret ravishments above the skies
He carried was before
He died. His soul did see and feel
What others know not; and became,
While he before his God did kneel,
A constant Heavenly pure seraphic flame.
O that I might unto his throne aspire,
And all his joys above the stars admire.
ASPIRATION
I
Unto the spring of purest life
Aspires my withered heart,
My soul confined in this flesh
Employs both strength and art
Working, struggling, suing still
From exile home to part.
II
Who can utter the full joy
Which that high place doth hold,
Where all the buildings founded are
On orient pearls untold,
And all the work of those high rooms
Doth shine with beams of gold!
III
The season is not changed, but still
Both sun and moon are Bright,
The Lamb of this fair city is
That clear immortal Light
Whose presence makes eternal day
Which never ends in night.
IV
Nay all the Saints themselves shall shine
As bright as brightest sun,
In fullest Triumph crowned they
To mutual joys shall run,
And safely count their fights and foes
When once the war is done.
V
For being freed from all defect
They feel no fleshly war,
Or rather both the flesh and mind
At length united are,
For joying in so rich a peace
They can admit no jar.
VI
For ever cheerful and content
They from mishaps are free;
No sickness there can threaten health,
Nor young men old can be:
There they enjoy such happy state
That in't no change they see.
VII
Who know the Knower of all things
What can they choose but know?
They all behold each other's hearts
And all their secrets shew:
One act of will and of not will
From all their minds do flow.
VIII
Though all their merits diverse be
According to their pains,
Yet Love doth make that every one's
Which any other gains,
And all which doth belong to one
To all of them pertains.
IX
O Happy Soul which shall behold
Thy King still present there,
And mayst from thence behold the world
Run round, secure from fear,
With stars and planets, moon and sun,
Still moving in their sphere!
X
O King of Kings give me such strength
In this great War depending,
That I may here prevail at length,
And ever be ascending,
Till I at last arrive to Thee,
The Source of all Felicity!
[This poem is not Traherne's, though I have copied it from
his manuscript volume of "Meditations and Devotions." It is a
translation of S. Peter Damiani's hymn, "Ad Perennis Vitæ Fontem,"
which has been many times rendered into English. The above
translation is from "The Meditations, Manuall, and Soliloquia of the
Glorious Doctour, St. Augustine," 1631. But it is much abridged and
altered in Traherne's version, and for that reason I have printed it
here. Those who wish to refer to the original version will find it
among the "Inedited Sacred Poems," at the end of Mr. W. T. Brooke's
edition of Giles Fletcher's "Christ's Victory and Triumph."]
[SUPPLICATION][K]
I
Come, Holy Ghost, Eternal God,
Our hearts with Life inspire,
Enkindle zeal in all our Souls,
And fill us with Thy Heavenly fire.
II
Send forth Thy Beams and let Thy Grace
Upon my spirit shine,
That I may all Thy works enjoy,
Revive, sing praises, be Divine.
AN HYMN UPON ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S DAY
I
What powerful Spirit lives within!
What active Angel doth inhabit here!
What heavenly light inspires my skin,
Which doth so like a Deity appear!
A Living Temple of all ages, I
Within me see
A Temple of Eternity!
All Kingdoms I descry
In me.
II
An inward Omnipresence here
Mysteriously like His within me stands
Whose knowledge is a Sacred Sphere
That in itself at once includes all lands.
There is some Angel that within me can
Both talk and move,
And walk and fly and see and love,
A man on earth, a man
Above.
III
Dull walls of clay my Spirit leaves,
And in a foreign Kingdom doth appear,
This great Apostle it receives
Admires His works and sees them, standing here.
Within myself from East to West I move
As if I were
At once a Cherubim and Sphere,
Or was at once above
And here.
IV
The Soul's a messenger whereby
Within our inward Temple we may be
Even like the very Deity
In all the parts of His Eternity.
O live within and leave unwieldy dross!
Flesh is but clay!
O fly my Soul and haste away
To Jesus' Throne or Cross--
Obey!
POEMS EXTRACTED FROM TRAHERNE'S "CHRISTIAN ETHICKS"
[All the following poems (excepting those in the "Appendix") are
taken from Traherne's "Christian Ethicks." That they are all from
his own pen cannot, I think, be doubted. They are entirely in his
manner, and have little or no resemblance to that of any other
poet. As the reader will see, I have, where necessary, quoted a few
sentences from Traherne's prose in order to render the design of the
verses more intelligible.]
[From pp. 344-5]
How glorious the Counsel and Design of God is for the Atchieving
of this Great End, for the making of all Vertues more compleat and
Excellent, and for the Heightening of their Beauty and Perfection we
will exemplifie here in the Perfection of Courage. For the Height
and depth and Splendor of every Vertue is of great Concernment to
the Perfection of the Soul since the Glory of its Life is seated in
the Accomplishment of its essence, in the fruit it yieldeth in its
Operations. Take it in Verse made long ago upon this occasion--
For Man to Act as if his Soul did see
The very Brightness of Eternity;
For Man to Act as if his Love did burn
Above the Spheres, even while it's in its Urne;
For Man to Act even in the Wilderness,
As if he did those Sovereign Joys possess,
Which do at once confirm, stir up, enflame,
And perfect Angels; having not the same!
It doth increase the value of his Deeds,
In this a Man a Seraphim exceeds.
To Act on Obligations yet unknown,
To Act upon Rewards as yet unshewn,
To keep Commands whose Beauty's yet unseen,
To Cherish and retain a Zeal between
Sleeping and waking; shews a constant care,
And that a deeper Love, a Love so rare,
That no Eye Service may with it compare.
The Angels, who are faithful while they view
His Glory, know not what themselves would do,
Were they in our Estate! A Dimmer Light
Perhaps would make them erre as well as We
And in the Coldness of a darker Night
Forgetful and Lukewarm Themselves might be.
Our very Rust shall cover us with Gold,
Our Dust shall sprinkle[L] while their Eyes behold
The Glory Springing from a feeble State,
Where meer Belief doth, if not conquer Fate
Surmount and pass what it doth Antedate.
[From p. 326]
In Matters of Art the force of Temperance is undeniable. It relateth
not only to our Meats and Drinks, but to all our Behaviours,
Passions, and Desires.
All Musick, Sawces, Feasts, Delights and Pleasures,
Games, Dancing, Arts consist in govern'd Measures;
Much more do Words and Passions of the Mind
In Temperance their sacred Beauty find.
[From pp. 347-9]
If you say it would be Beneficial to God or to that Spectator or
that intelligible Power, that Spirit for whom it was made: It is
apparent that no Corporeal Being can be serviceable to a Spirit
but only by the Beauty of those Services it performeth to other
Corporeals that are capable of receiving them, and that therefore
all Corporeals must be limited and bounded for each other's sake.
And for this Cause it is that a Philosophical Poet said:
As in a Clock, 'tis hinder'd Force doth bring
The Wheels to order'd Motion by a Spring;
Which order'd Motion guides a steddy Hand
In useful sort at Figures just to stand;
Which, were it not by Counter-ballance staid,
The Fabrick quickly would aside be laid
As wholly useless: So a Might too Great
But well proportion'd makes the World compleat.
Power well-bounded is more Great in Might
Than if let loose 'twere wholly Infinite.
He could have made an endless Sea by this,
But then it had not been a Sea of Bliss;
A Sea that's bounded in a finite shore
Is better far because it is no more.
Should Waters endlessly exceed the Skies
They'd drown the World, and all whate'er we prize.
Had the bright Sun been Infinite its Flame
Had burnt the World, and quite consumed the same.
That Flame would yield no splendour to the Sight,
'Twould be but Darkness though 'twere Infinite.
One Star made Infinite would all exclude,
An Earth made Infinite could ne'er be view'd.
But all being bounded for each other's sake,
He, bounding all, did all most useful make;
And which is best, in Profit and Delight
Though not in Bulk, he made all Infinite!
He, in his Wisdom, did their use extend
By all, to all the World from End to End.
In all Things all Things service do to all;
And thus a Sand is Endless, though most small,
And every Thing is truly Infinite
In its Relation deep and exquisite.
[From p. 383 in Chapter XXV On Meekness]
Were all the World a Paradise of Ease
'Twere easie then to live in Peace.
Were all men Wise, Divine, and Innocent,
Just, Holy, Peaceful and Content,
Kind, Loving, True and alwaies Good
As in the Golden-Age they stood;
'Twere easie then to live
In all Delight and Glory, full of Love,
Blest as the Angels are above.
But we such Principles must now attain
(If we true blessedness would gain)
As those are which will help to make us reign
Over Disorders, Injuries,
Ingratitudes, Calamities,
Affronts, Oppressions, Slanders, Wrongs,
Lies, Angers, bitter Tongues;
The reach of Malice must surmount, and quell
The very Rage and Power of Hell.
[From pp. 394-9]
OF MEEKNESS
I
Mankind is sick, the World distemper'd lies
Opprest with Sins and Miseries.
Their Sins are Woes; a long corrupted Train
Of Poyson, drawn from Adam's vein,
Stains all his seed, and all his Kin
Are one Disease of Life within;
They all torment themselves!
The World's one Bedlam, or a greater Cave
Of Mad-men that do alwaies rave.
II
The Wise and Good like kind Physicians are,
That strive to heal them by their Care;
They Physick and their Learning calmly use
Although the Patient them abuse,
For since the Sickness is (they find)
A sad Distemper of the Mind,
All railings they impute,
All Injuries, unto the sore Disease
They are expresly come to ease.
III
If we would to the World's distempered Mind
Impute the Rage which there we find,
We might, even in the midst of all our Foes
Enjoy and feel a sweet Repose,
Might pity all the Griefs we see,
Anointing every Malady
With precious Oil and Balm;
And while ourselves are calm, our Art improve
To rescue them and show our Love.
IV
But let's not fondly our own selves beguile;
If we Revile 'cause they Revile,
Ourselves infected with their sore Disease
Need other's Helps to give us ease;
For we more Mad than they remain,
Need to be cut, and need a Chain
Far more than they. Our Brain
Is craz'd, and if we put our Wit to theirs,
We may be justly made their Heirs.
V
But while with open eyes we clearly see
The brightness of His Majesty;
While all the World by Sin to Satan sold,
In daily Wickedness grows old,
Men in chains of Darkness lye,
In Bondage and Iniquity,
And pierce and grieve themselves!
The dismal Woes wherein they crawl, enhance
The peace of our Inheritance.
VI