Poems (Hale)/The Feeding of the Multitude
THE FEEDING OF THE MULTITUDE.
Twilight was deepening into sombre night,Along the shore of Galilee's fair sea.Its waters lay in beauteous repose,Save where the gentle breath of evening raisedA ripple on its surface, while around,Humble, yet teeming with content and joy,Rose the rude walls of many a fisher's home.
A throng, with wondering eye and listening ear,Had gathered at the Master's side, intentTo see some healing miracle, and hearThe gracious words that issued from his lips.All day, in holy love his feet had trodTheir path of mercy, bearing to the soulsOf that vast multitude the words of peaceWhich fell upon their ears, even as a strainFrom heavenly harps. With sweet compassion moved,The dying frame he healed, strengthened the weak,And whispered comfort to the sorrowing soul:Nor this alone.
Of that fair home he spoke,—The Infinite, Unseen, the land of peace,The blessed kingdom, where the "pure in heartShall see their God." What marvel that the eyeGazed all entranced upon his face? the earDrank in the holy yet mysterious tonesWhich told of such seraphic blessedness?Well might they herald him Judea's king, Whose hand unbarred the doors of heaven, who badeTheir vision gaze on the unclouded lightRevealed within.
The day was now far spent,Yet pensive eve, with soft and balmy breath,Scarce wooed their ravished spirits to repose,So deep and holy was the spell that breathedFrom the Redeemer's words. His followers came,And prayed him speedily to send awayThe famished multitudes. With gentle voiceHe turned, unheeding their request, and said,"Let them not go, but give ye them to eat."With glance astonished on the Master's faceThey gazed, and answered, "See our scanty store,—Five loaves and two small fishes. What are theyAmong so many?"
"Bring them unto me,"The Saviour said: then to the throne of GodIn fervent prayer his eye he raised, and askedHis Father's blessing on the humble meal.
Faith! Prayer! O! what a holy might is yours!Ye have unloosed the gates of death, brought backTo earth the soul released from its embrace,Eyes to the blind have given, bade the dumbBreak forth in strains of fervent thanksgiving,And have brought near to man thy holy mount,Jerusalem! "the mother of us all!"
He gave to his disciples: they in turnDispensed it to the seated multitude. But; lo! can thought conceive, can language tell,The glory beaming mid that wondering host?An angel seemed amid their ranks to glide.Speechless they gazed, for mingled love and aweHad settled on their souls, as heavenly guests.From mouthto mouth the scanty portion spread,Miraculously multiplied, nor ceasedTill all were fed; when of the fragments left,Twelve basketsful were gathered.
Ye might wellGaze on that miracle of wondrous might,Ye unbelieving hearts, while from your lipsThe exulting shout went up, proclaiming himThe Prophet-King, the Shiloh, long foretoldBy ancient seers.
Jesus, "Thou Bread of life!"With food eternal feed our famished souls;Nor let our footsteps faint, nor faith grow dim,Till upon Zion's hill with thee we stand.