He hides them deep, like the secret sleep Of him he loved so well. CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER THE DEATH OF MOSES. MOSES, who spake with God as with his friend, And ruled his people with the twofold power Of wisdom that can dare and still be meek, Was writing his last word, the sacred name Unutterable of that Eternal Will Which was and is and evermore shall be. Yet was his task not finished, for the flock Needed its shepherd, and the life-taught sage Leaves no successor; but to chosen men, The rescuers and guides of Israel, Which freed them from the burden of the flesh, But left them rulers of the multitude And loved companions of the lonely. This Was God's last gift to Moses, this the hour When soul must part from self and be but soul. God spake to Gabriel, the messenger Of mildest death that draws the parting life Gently, as when a little rosy child Lifts up its lips from off the bowl of milk And so draws forth a curl that dipped its gold In the soft white-thus Gabriel draws the soul. "Go, bring the soul of Moses unto Me!" And the awe-stricken angel answered, "Lord, How shall I dare to take his life who lives Sole of his kind, not to be likened once In all the generations of the earth?" Then God called Michael, him of pensive brow, Snow-vest and flaming sword, who knows and acts: "Go, bring the spirit of Moses unto Me!" But Michael, with such grief as angels feel, Loving the mortals whom they succor, plead: "Almighty, spare me; it was I who taught Thy servant Moses; he is part of me As I of Thy deep secrets, knowing them." Then God called Zamael, the terrible, The angel of fierce death, of agony That comes in battle and in pestilence Remorseless, sudden or with lingering throes, And Zamael, his raiment and broad wings Blood-tinctured, the dark lustre of his eyes Shrouding the red, fell like the gathering night Before the prophet. But that radiance Won from the heavenly presence in the mount Gleamed on the prophet's brow, and dazzling pierced Its conscious opposite: the angel turned His murky gaze aloof and inly said: "An angel this, deathless to angel's stroke." But Moses felt the subtly nearing dark:- "Who art thou? and what wilt thou?" Zamael then : "I am God's reaper; through the fields of life I gather ripened and unripened souls, Both willing and unwilling. And I come Now to reap thee." But Moses cried Firm as a seer who waits the trusted sign: "Reap thou the fruitless plant and common herb Not him who from the womb was sanctified To teach the law of purity and love." And Zamael baffled from his errand fled. But Moses, pausing, in the air serene Heard now that mystic whisper, far yet near, The all-penetrating Voice, that said to him, "Moses, the hour is come and thou must die." "Lord, I obey; but Thou rememberest How Thou, Ineffable, didst take me once Within Thy orb of light untouched by death." Then the Voice answered, "Be no more afraid: With Me shall be thy death and burial.” So Moses waited, ready now to die. And the Lord came, invisible as a thought. Three angels gleaming on His secret track, Prince Michael, Zamael, Gabriel, charged to guard The soul-forsaken body as it fell, He closed them. "Lay thine hand upon thine heart, And draw thy feet together." He obeyed. And the Lord said, "O spirit! child of Mine! A hundred years and twenty thou hast dwelt Within this tabernacle wrought of clay. This is the end: come forth and flee to heaven." But the grieved soul with plaintive pleading cried, "I love this body with a clinging love: The courage fails me, Lord, to part from it." "O child, come forth, for thou shalt dwell with Me About the immortal throne where seraphs joy In growing vision and in growing love." Yet hesitating, fluttering, like the bird With young wing weak and dubious, the soul Stayed. But behold! upon the deathdewed lips A kiss descended, pure, unspeakableThe bodiless Love, without embracing Love |