Themes and Variations/The Young Ruler
THE YOUNG RULER.
Luke xviii., Mark x., Matt. xviii.
Oft in the Sabbath sunshine,
As I read in the Holy Word,
I turn to that brief description
Of the Ruler and Our Lord.
As I read in the Holy Word,
I turn to that brief description
Of the Ruler and Our Lord.
The Ruler was true and upright,
His hands unstained by sin,
His form was a brave translation
Of the noble soul within.
His hands unstained by sin,
His form was a brave translation
Of the noble soul within.
And One beholding him, loved him—
Alas, could such record be?
With the beam of heaven upon him,
He turned from its mystery.
Alas, could such record be?
With the beam of heaven upon him,
He turned from its mystery.
Though the centuries roll between us,
Yet we stand by his side to-day.
Ours too is the eager question;
And how sadly we turn away.
Yet we stand by his side to-day.
Ours too is the eager question;
And how sadly we turn away.
His name we know not, nor story;
Yet dreaming, I see him stand
In the shade of his mountain cedars
Looking over the summer land.
Yet dreaming, I see him stand
In the shade of his mountain cedars
Looking over the summer land.
When the white dawn stirred on the hill-tops;
In the sleepless and sultry night,
Did he still hear that solemn answer?
Still gaze on that heavenly light?
In the sleepless and sultry night,
Did he still hear that solemn answer?
Still gaze on that heavenly light?
Till the sun and the stars and the earth-fields
From his vision fled and failed,
And high in divinest radiance
Eternal love unveiled?
From his vision fled and failed,
And high in divinest radiance
Eternal love unveiled?
We are all the same; if the heavens
Were opening about our doors,
We would turn from their hills of harvest
Nor walk on those crystal shores.
Were opening about our doors,
We would turn from their hills of harvest
Nor walk on those crystal shores.
Like beggars along the wayside
We ask, in our spirit-strife,
From each traveller riding onward,
‘Good Master, Eternal life?’
We ask, in our spirit-strife,
From each traveller riding onward,
‘Good Master, Eternal life?’
And the King goes by, and the Seer,
The Reader of Nature’s lore,
The Robber of Truths, the Finder,
And they answer as we implore—
The Reader of Nature’s lore,
The Robber of Truths, the Finder,
And they answer as we implore—
‘We know not its price nor dwelling,
We see neither sign nor shape,
’Tis a dream, a desire, a legend,
The prisoner’s vain escape.
We see neither sign nor shape,
’Tis a dream, a desire, a legend,
The prisoner’s vain escape.
‘Nothing more’—yet our hearts deny it—
As they pass by,—in silence and pain.
We have waked to that music immortal—
We sleep not in peace again.
As they pass by,—in silence and pain.
We have waked to that music immortal—
We sleep not in peace again.