THE SERAPHIM

From mortal seed, unheeded, falsehood sprang;
It lived, it grew, and shadowed all the field.

Iniquity rose up against the laws
Ordained to hedge and guard our frailty round;
What perished there was never called again,
But smouldered, ash on long-abandoned hearths.

Yet in that waste, unseen, the warders stood,
Who offered trials, and with each, reward.
Their secret zeal broke ancestral bonds,
Dissolving ancient curses from the blood,
And opened in the soul a gate for speech
Divine, that dares the heart to answer, “Here.”

Then He sent forth bright serpents from the height,
Winged creatures of the heavens, who before
His presence cry, “Holy, holy, holy.”
Their rustling plumes drew veils before their faces,
That none might look upon their searing gaze;
With twain they hid their feet in lowly awe,
On twain they flew, as living, circling shields,
A wall of flame about His hidden throne.

“Unclean am I among a people stained,”
I whispered at the breaking edge of dawn;
And there I saw the fiery serpent stand,
Whose blinding whiteness swallowed up the dark.

His eyes were torches, inward-kindled lamps,
Lashes like flashes of discerning fire.
He touched my lips with one live coal and said:
“This hath now touched thy lips, and lo, thy sin
Is taken from thee, and thy guilt made clean.”

Then sanctifying fervor filled the house;
The pillars trembled with consuming fire.
My weakness melted in the glowing air;
Strength, not mine own, returned into my bones.
Branded a sinner, I left changed,
Remade by mercy.