SALVATOR MUNDI

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Aug 26, 1875

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 46, No. 8.

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SALVATOR MUNDI.

O! long and darksome was the night That in dull watches wore away, With moon and stars alone to light A world bewildered and astray; While oft thick shade and murky cloud Pale moon and stars did deep enshroud; And nations looked and hoped in vain That over earth, of guilt and sorrow, Of sin and hate, the sad domain, Might dawn a bright and cheerful morrow.
'Twas not, Eternal Love, that thou Hadst lost thy care for mortal men; No, thou didst yearn of old as now To fold them to thy heart again; Thou didst but wait till men might know That sin's ripe fruits were death and woe; Till worn and sick of fruitless grief, Of lust's foul cup to loathing taken, With longing they might crave relief Ere yet of God and hope forsaken.
There were who heard with trusting heart, E'en then, thy words of hope and cheer, Who saw, by faith the night depart, And morning break serene and clear; On holy prophets shone afar The gleam of Jacob's promised Star; The rising of the Lord of day That, o'er the world his radiance throwing, Should chase the spectral night away, And mount to noon resplendent glowing.
When thou, O Christ, of flesh wast born, To greet thee in thy humble bed, Though earth thy lowliness should scorn, Celestial bands with rapture sped; At midnight on the silent air Thy birth their floating strains declare; The shepherds catch the thrilling lay, Its harmonies their senses steeping, Then to thy manger take their way, And gaze on thee, an infant sleeping!
While thou didst dwell with men below, 'Twas morning twilight's early blush; Thy light yet veiled, 'twas thine to know Sweet childhood's dream, youth's joyous flush; Then manhood's burdens, cares, and fears, Its toils, and weariness, and tears; Tears shed for human griefs and woes Mark thee, of all, the Man of Sorrows; And through thy life the grandeur grows That manhood from the Godhead borrows!
When all forsaken of thine own, Robed in mock purple thou didst stand, Thou wast a King—without a throne, A sovereign Lord—without command; 'Neath purple robe and thorns concealed Divinity its light revealed; Upon the Roman's heart it fell, And its keen flash, his conscience waking, Wrought in him like some mighty spell, The pride of his strong spirit breaking.
When came at last thy darkest hour, On which the sun refused to look, Though hell seemed armed with conquering power, And earth, as seized with terror, shook; Though from thy lips the dying cry, By anguish wrung, went up on high; Still 'mid the darkness and the fear, O Son of God, thy life resigning, Thou didst to those that saw appear The Light of men—eclipsed, yet shining!
E'en the dark tomb of chiseled rock Thy glory could not all repress; A moment hid, with earthquake shock, Abroad it streamed again to bless; Angels first caught the vision bright, Then broke its beams on mortal sight; The Conqueror of death and hell Thou stoodst, thine own each word attending, Till on their wistful eyes there fell Splendors divine from thee ascending!
Forever on the unveiled throne, O Lamb divine, enrobed in light, Thou life, and love, and joy unknown, Dost shed while ages wing their flight; The cherubim before thee bow; The fullness of the Godhead thou! Thy uncreated beauty greets The longing eyes that, upward gazing, Feast on thy smile that ever meets Thy saints that wait before thee praising.
Head over all! ’tis thine to reign; The groaning earth with joy shall see What ages sought, but sought in vain, The balm for all its woes in thee; Eyes fixed on thee shall dry their tears; Hearts stayed on thee shall lose their fears; Fair innocence and love shall breathe Their fragrant breath o’er vale and mountain, And faith pure altars shall enwreathe, And nations bathe in Calvary’s fountain.
O love beyond all mortal thought, Unquenchable by flood or sea! Love that through death to man hath brought The life of immortality; Thou dost enkindle Heaven's own fire In hearts all dead to high desire; Let love for love our souls inflame, The perfect love that faileth never; And sweet hosannas to thy name Through Heaven's vast dome go up forever! —R. Palmer, D. D.