Poems (Shipton)/Whispers 'Neath the Palms
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Than the bruised reed beneath thy careless foot.
WHISPERS 'NEATH THE PALMS.
"And when they had platted a crown of thorns, they put it upon His head, and a reed in His right hand."—Matt. xxvii. 29.
"We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. . . . Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body."—2 Cor. iv. 7, 10.
As wearily I wandered on a day,
Where noiselessly the yellow Nile sweeps by,
I rested 'neath a Palm, whose branches spread
Their dark green leaves against the glowing sky.
Where noiselessly the yellow Nile sweeps by,
I rested 'neath a Palm, whose branches spread
Their dark green leaves against the glowing sky.
Bright flashed the light o'er minaret and dome,
And the blue desert seemed a pathless shore
To fairer temples builded in the sky,
Of every rainbow hue that clouds e'er wore.
And the blue desert seemed a pathless shore
To fairer temples builded in the sky,
Of every rainbow hue that clouds e'er wore.
Vainly I listened for the Palm's sweet song:
Her golden crown was glist'ning in the sun,
And down the stately bole the rippling rays
Seemed like a molten rivulet to run.
Her golden crown was glist'ning in the sun,
And down the stately bole the rippling rays
Seemed like a molten rivulet to run.
But all was silence round me, silence deep;
The wind's hot breath the feathery foliage stirred;
But that blest Name, all other names above,
In whispered harmony I never heard.
The wind's hot breath the feathery foliage stirred;
But that blest Name, all other names above,
In whispered harmony I never heard.
Just so Thy Praise, Lord, slumbered in my soul,
Waiting the Holy Spirit's quickening might;
Sleeping for sadness till Thy south wind came
To wake Thy garden into life and light.
Waiting the Holy Spirit's quickening might;
Sleeping for sadness till Thy south wind came
To wake Thy garden into life and light.
A few frail reeds and rushes fringed the shore,
Their bloom and verdure gone, broken and dry,
Fit emblem of a helpless, lifeless thing:
O gracious Master, such a one am I!
Their bloom and verdure gone, broken and dry,
Fit emblem of a helpless, lifeless thing:
O gracious Master, such a one am I!
I watched the white doves pass me in their flight,
And longed for such fleet pinions to be free,
So to escape this stormy wilderness,
And rest for ever, Lord, with Thee—with Thee!
And longed for such fleet pinions to be free,
So to escape this stormy wilderness,
And rest for ever, Lord, with Thee—with Thee!
Mourning, I bowed beside that turbid wave,
Like the poor reed parched in the summer drought,
And learned again a lesson conned before,
Of base things, things despised, and things of nought.
Like the poor reed parched in the summer drought,
And learned again a lesson conned before,
Of base things, things despised, and things of nought.
For softer than the wild dove's plaintive note,
Or voice of many waters, gentle stole
The tender chiding of a wounded Friend,
And its low whisper shook my prostrate soul
Or voice of many waters, gentle stole
The tender chiding of a wounded Friend,
And its low whisper shook my prostrate soul
"And wilt thou also go away, while yet
The whitened fields await the golden morn?
'Canst thou not watch with Me one little hour,'
To cheer some wanderer, weary and forlorn?"
The whitened fields await the golden morn?
'Canst thou not watch with Me one little hour,'
To cheer some wanderer, weary and forlorn?"
And then I answered, "Lord, no skill have I:
My hand is feeble, and my spirit quails.
Let me lie down in silence at Thy feet;
Weary and faint, at last my courage fails."
My hand is feeble, and my spirit quails.
Let me lie down in silence at Thy feet;
Weary and faint, at last my courage fails."
"Child, wouldst thou rest while yet the Master waits?
Droop in the race before the crown is won?
Escape the shame, the burden, and the toil,
And lose the seed-time ere thy work be done?"
Droop in the race before the crown is won?
Escape the shame, the burden, and the toil,
And lose the seed-time ere thy work be done?"
"I am not learned, Lord, I have no strength;
And if I have, it wars against Thy will.
Thou bid'st me wait, and I am full of care;
Thou call'st me forward, and behold me, still!"
And if I have, it wars against Thy will.
Thou bid'st me wait, and I am full of care;
Thou call'st me forward, and behold me, still!"
"I am thy Strength; and thou shalt live to praise
For all the way I led thee. Why repine?
Be of good courage, 'tis My word thou bear'st;
Be thine the willing heart, the power is Mine."
For all the way I led thee. Why repine?
Be of good courage, 'tis My word thou bear'st;
Be thine the willing heart, the power is Mine."
"My harp is all unstrung; my only song
Is, like the palm-tree's, folded in a word;
And e'en my praise is stammered more than sung,
My coward heart lies low—Thou know'st it, Lord!
Is, like the palm-tree's, folded in a word;
And e'en my praise is stammered more than sung,
My coward heart lies low—Thou know'st it, Lord!
"Oh, were I like yon fair and fruitful Palm,
Glory and pleasure Thou wouldst find in me;
Gath'ring the warmth and light from heaven alone,
I'd bear my golden fruit, a crown for Thee!"
Glory and pleasure Thou wouldst find in me;
Gath'ring the warmth and light from heaven alone,
I'd bear my golden fruit, a crown for Thee!"
"Patience, poor weary one! The lofty Palm,
That by the waters spreads its thirsty root,
Is not more fair in its Creator's eyes That by the waters spreads its thirsty root,
Than the bruised reed beneath thy careless foot.
"Did they not crown thy Master's brow with thorns,
And lead Him forth to die—yea, die for thee—
Surrounded by the scoffing multitude,
That in false homage bent the mocking knee?"
And lead Him forth to die—yea, die for thee—
Surrounded by the scoffing multitude,
That in false homage bent the mocking knee?"
Hast thou not wept, while pondering on that hour?
I know thou hast. But didst thou never heed
How in His hand, the right Hand of His power,
They thrust a sceptre?—'twas a feeble reed.
I know thou hast. But didst thou never heed
How in His hand, the right Hand of His power,
They thrust a sceptre?—'twas a feeble reed.
"They knew not what they did; but thou hast known.
Why art thou troubled? Why this sore distress?
For that frail sceptre still shall bruise the foe,
And carry comfort to the comfortless.
Why art thou troubled? Why this sore distress?
For that frail sceptre still shall bruise the foe,
And carry comfort to the comfortless.
"They knew not what they did. It is that Hand
That now upholds thee, lest thou fly, or yield:
Cast then thy weakness on Almighty power;
I am thy sure reward, thy Sun and Shield."
That now upholds thee, lest thou fly, or yield:
Cast then thy weakness on Almighty power;
I am thy sure reward, thy Sun and Shield."
"Oh, cleanse the vessel Thou hast emptied, Lord,
And make me meet to bear the oil and wine!
It is enough to be a thins; of nought:
The might and glory, Lord, be Thine—all Thine!"
And make me meet to bear the oil and wine!
It is enough to be a thins; of nought:
The might and glory, Lord, be Thine—all Thine!"
[Note.—It is an Oriental tradition, that the palm branches, when they quiver in the wind, whisper the name which is above all other names—"Jesus." The only traveller I have met who ever listened for it was a Christian officer, who told me he had slept beneath a group of these interesting trees, so full of Scripture emblems, and on his waking he thought there was no difficulty in imagining the sound of a Hebrew word produced by the morning breeze sweeping through the long palm-leaves. To him its voice was "Ishi."—Hosea ii. 16.]