PEDLAR'S PACK."

Otago Witness, Issue 3313, 12 September 1917, Page 48

PEDLAR'S PACK."

" Love is no huckster; that is mine is thine." ISCARIOT. What devil did it —used me as his tool— Me, Judas, who adored Him above all? They were not sure, those others! They would wait The proof of Time—dear God! —would idly watch The pitiful procession of tho days That past, like goreed slaves, in endless line; Cowed things; starved things; earth-drop-ping things; not one Of hero-mould to break its yoke, stand straight And tall i' the Sun, and draw free breath, and laugh Its triumph to high Heaven. They would wait! But I—l whose heart's love, penned helpless here, Panted to buret all bonds; would waste itself Like hers that brake the alabaster box Over His feet, in one stupendous act, Folly to purblind eyes, but unto His — 0, unto His that see the naked Flame Of Godhood in the vilest—wisdom, wisdom; How could I wait? Men lookt on Him, on Him Whom Angels tend in reverence; Him on Whom Resteth tho Fulness bodily; and past As He were common clay, one Rabbi more Among the City's legions; or perchance One more crazed prophet from the Wilderness! How could I bear it, I, whose cradling love Bore His good name and fame as Mothers bear, In arms a-tingle with sweet jealousy On bosom aching with sheer weight of bliss, Their firstborn babes? Wait! Bear it .longer! Nay. I hasted to the Cave where we were wont To sit and seek communion with the Spheres Where dwell God's Angel Sons, and servo with them, All glorious, Souls of just men perfected; And, entering the chamber of my heart, fast the door, and flung myself up, up, Into the Height; and knew no more, till, called By some wild creature's cry to earthly sense, I woke in the cool evening hours, my heart A furnace of white light; my purpose clear; Knew myself born for this—the Appointed One, Whose feeble hand, become Love's instrument, Made strong with God's immeasurable strength, Should shoot the bolt back, ope the brazen door Of Destiny, fast sealed until now, And flood with glory the astonied World! My heart within me laughing light, I sought The Priests. I told them —foolish tale enough, But that their greed to take Him made them blindHow I had heard and followed Him they deemed Hell's Herald, fascinated by His charm, _ Toiled in His subtleties, swayed by His will, Till, shockt to the inmost fastness of my Soul By His appalling blasphemies, I snapt The fetter He had forged, and dared His ire, And left Him—came to them, the only true And God-given Guardians of the Ancient Faith; My one thought, how to rid polluted Earth Of such a monster! Lightly laught my heart Behind my babbling lips. Ah, had they seen What I saw as I spake with them, that hour They ~.d haled me forth and stoned me! But, no no; The fateful drama ran its destined course; They offered me reward—o, jest supreme Of all the Ages! I, to play my part, ' Took thirty pieces, while they held me fool To drive no better bargain—three had served ! And as I left them, changing evil eyes,

The laughter in my heart brake into song: My hand was on the bolt; the brazen door Would turn on its slow hinge, and suddenly, While through Heaven's courts triumphant anthems rang. God's glory should transfigure ell the Earth! Still, still my heart sang on; and when, that night We supt together all for the last time, He Himself brake the terrible news to them, And all askt "Is it I" ; and unto my Soft, smiling question His soft answer came, While the beloved eyes lookt deep in mine; Such raptures shook me as perchance the glad, Wild Seraphs feel, when as a Father's eye Resteth upon them momently; and when His dear lips bade me speed in that I did, Such joyous tumult filled me as Space knew When, at the Father's fiat, His glad Sons Shouted for joy, and all the Morning Stars In concert S:Jig; my being one pure flame Of will to serve, like God's own Light 1 sped. I met the miscreants at their chosen hour; I led them thither where I knew Ho prayed; I met Him mid the olives—hailed Him Lord — Kist Him. They stretcht their hands. . . " Now ! Now I I cried, While all my being like a harpstring rang. But, woe is me, there came no miracle; Those sacrilegious hands were verily Laid on the Lord of All; shose wicked ones Bore Him away—away 1 My hand it was Shot back Fate's bolt, but oped the brazen door Of Hell not Heaven; let out upon the Earth Tide-wave of Horror. . . Woe, woe, woe, is ma 1 O, my Beloved, Whom the wicked lead To mockery and death, forgive—forgive I Light breaks—alas, too late x seasons and times. Thou saidst, Were not for us to know, and I, Too hot to wait God's way, swift victim fell

To the Master of Illusion. I—l—l Would play the wonder-worker; I, even I, Judas of Kerioth, be God's right hand. And help Thee to Thy glory ! O, forgive! Blind fool though I havo been, if Thou look'st through The blindness and the folly to the core. Where burns th-j Flarnc immortal that is I, Thou'lt know I loved Thee, loved Thee; know in lovo I sold Thee to Thy foes. . . . What is this Light, This Glow, this marvel? O, bo still, my Soul, Be still, and hearken to the Voico that wells From my heart's deep in music piercing sweet. See, see —His Face! Dear Lord, dear Lord, I hear: "Cornel" sayest Thou? Ah, gone the perfect Face; But the voice lingers; rises, falls; ebbs, flows—- " Come!" its sole burden. How can mortal como Whither Thou goest? Soft! I see, I see; Only one door to pass; only one door Between the Worlds—the narrow door of Death! Soon will it swing for Him—why not for me? Why not for me before« Him, so He find His servant waiting at the portal? What Life were on Earth without Him Who was all Its light, I dared not think; but He had thought, And saved me from that terror with His " Come!" I come, Beloved; see how fast I climb! Hero is the verge; below the chasm yawns, Whose pitying pitiless rocks shall set me free. Bo still, my Soul: yes, soft, and sweet, and low, And clear, and very wonderful it rings— His "Come!" and how He smiles at me! Farewell, O foolish Earth that knew Him not. I knew, And in my lover's pride I would have taught Thee; God marred my work, and bade me wait His time. . . . Be still, my Soul, and hearken: yes, I hear His "Come!" and louder, louder, louder still It rings— a clarion —heaven's thunder-peal— God's awful Voice: I come, dear Lord, I come 1 Mahsyas.