Deut. 34.
I.
The sunshine sleeps upon the hills of Canaan's land,
The fruitful vales and bubbling, gushing streams,
As when on Pisgah's lonely height did Moses stand,
To view the prospect of his pilgrim dreams.
A land with milk and honey richly running o'er,
Whose city walls rose towering 'gainst the sky,
Where God's impartial hand yields bounteous store,
And, steeped in luscious richness, sunny vineyards lie!
Unrealized to nature its possession, but to faith,
His heart the dazzling landscape could embrace,
And whilst he stands, with eye undim and unabated strength,
He can God's promise and eternal purpose trace.
The conflict and the leadership are over now,
The burden and the heat of life's long pilgrim days;
And he, with spirit stilled and peace-sealed brow,
Knows disappointment merged in glorious praise.
The rod, endued with holy and mysterious power,
He yields submissively without a sigh;
God gives His servant, in death's calm and secret hour
The note of praise, the palm of victory!
II.
Here pause awhile! this vivid scene, has it no voice for us?
No lesson, Christian pilgrim, we may learn?
And whilst we meditate and commune on it thus,
Should we not feel our hearts within us burn?
We stand, not on majestic heights, as Moses stood,
But in the vale, to view our promised land -
A vale of tears, where rolls death's mighty flood,
A torrent, awful deep, no mortal can withstand.
But Christ has triumphed; a wider, deeper flood now flows -
His love spreads forth in all its length and breadth and height;
Each soul by faith, now all His fulness knows,
Each branch in Him may bear a precious freight!
To contemplate and gaze on Christ will bring
Rich fruitfulness to each believer's heart;
In Him such varied treasures cluster round and spring,
That admiration lends a captive willing part.
In Christ such deep attractions and such luscious fruits are seen,
Such streams of mercy and such palms of victory,
Such floods and founts of love our hearts to wean.
For Christ possesses all and loves eternally.
Then stand with Him, thy heavenly portion taste,
Communion with Himself unveils all mystery;
His grasp of love forbids all needless haste,
And, lost in Him, my soul! lose all identity. B. B.