The Wedding Party: An Epic Poem

By Philip Rosenbaum

The Wedding Party is an epic poem written in Spenserian stanzas. Its theme is the love of Christ for His Bride, the Church. The scene is Heaven. The speakers are 144 Biblical characters, who are preparing for the wedding of Christ and the Church. The speakers give answers, based on their personal experience, to Christ's riddle in the prologue, "Why do I choose this Woman as My Bride?"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Philip Rosenbaum
• Release date: Jan 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781938250019

Book preview

The Wedding Party

An Epic Poem

by

Philip Rosenbaum

© 2022 Philip Rosenbaum

ISBN 978-1-938250-01-9

Cover design by 1106 Design

Cover image (used by permission):

© Holly Hayes

The Wedding at Cana in Galilee;

A panel in the Blue Virgin window

of Chartres Cathedral

(12th-13th century)

Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are based on the Authorized (King James) version of the Bible, or The New King James Version. Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

With Jeanne

(The secret to accomplishing

more than you dream,

in my experience,

is to recognize the woman

who is the gift of God.)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Foreword by Prof. Robert Sider

Prologue

BOOK I

Adam

Eve

Noah’s Wife

Abraham

Sarah

Abraham’s Steward

Rebekah

Deborah, Rebekah’s Nurse

Jacob

Leah

Judah

Tamar

Joseph

BOOK II

Mrs. Job

Shiphrah

Jochebed

Moses

Aaron

Miriam

Bezalel

Aholiab

Elizaphan

Zelophehad’s Wife

Phinehas

Joshua

Rahab

BOOK III

Caleb

Othniel

Shamgar

Deborah

Gideon

Jephthah’s Daughter

Samson

Naomi

Ruth

Boaz

Hannah

Samuel

BOOK IV

Jonathan

David

Abigail

Hushai the Archite

Uriah

Nathan

Solomon

The Queen of Sheba

Elijah

The Widow of Sidon

Obadiah

Micaiah

BOOK V

Elisha

The Widow with Oil

Jehoshaphat

The Shunammite

Naaman’s Wife

Amos

Jonah

Micah

Isaiah

Hezekiah

Josiah

Huldah

BOOK VI

Jeremiah

Ebed-Melech

Ezekiel’s Wife

Nebuchadnezzar

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

Hegai, the Keeper

Nehemiah

Baruch Bar Zabbai

Haggai, the Prophet

Zerubbabel

BOOK VII

Zacharias

Elisabeth

Saint Joseph

The Shepherds

The Wise Men

Simeon

John the Baptist

Zebedee

Andrew

Philip

Nathanael

Saint Matthew

BOOK VIII

The Mother of the Groom

The Servants

Nicodemus

The Woman at the Well

The Leper

The Paralytic

The Infirm Man

The Man with a Withered Hand

The Centurion

The Widow of Nain

The Sinful Woman

Susanna

BOOK IX

The Man Possessed

The Woman Who Bled

Jairus

The Boy with the Loaves and the Fishes

The Syrophoenician Woman

Saint James

The Man with A Son Possessed

The Woman Taken in Adultery

The Man Born Blind

The Woman Jesus Called

Martha

Lazarus

BOOK X

The Samaritan Leper

Bartimaeus

Zacchaeus

Simon the Zealot

Saint Peter

Pilate’s Wife

Simon of Cyrene

Joseph of Arimathea

The Myrrh-Bearing Women

Mary Magdalene

Cleopas

Saint Mark

BOOK XI

Saint Luke

Matthias

The Lame Man

Saint Stephen

The Ethiopian Eunuch

Saint Paul

Ananias

The Friends of Tabitha

Cornelius

Barnabas

Silas

Timothy

BOOK XII

Lydia

The Jailer

The Bereans

Priscilla and Aquila

Phoebe

Tychicus

Titus

Philemon

Onesimus

The Ephesian Elders

Gaius

Saint John

Scripture Sources and Notes

Acknowledgements

About the Poet

The Wedding Party

A Foreword

by Professor Robert Sider

The Wedding Party is a poem that courageously recreates, in our increasingly secular world, the literary tradition of Christian epic. As a life-long Christian I take pleasure in providing a brief introduction to this work forged in the intellectual and spiritual life of a fellow-Christian. In the hope that I may be able to enhance the reader’s anticipation, I shall endeavour to explain the setting and to highlight some of the central features of the poem.

The scene for the action of this epic is set in the banquet hall of Heaven, where the great marriage banquet, the ‘supper of the Lamb’ (Rev 19:7-9), is prepared. The ‘Lamb’ is the Groom; His Bride is the Church adorned with works of righteousness. Many ‘guests’ have already assembled; they are figures of the Old and New Testaments, men and women long ago passed away and now members of the Church, the heavenly Bride. There are others coming to join the feast, people still living on earth, subject to temptations and struggles that they face no doubt with courage, but nevertheless with the limited vision of earthlings. In the manner of Samson at his wedding feast, the Groom puts forth a riddle to which the guests are to provide answers: ‘’Why do I choose this Woman as My Bride?" In responding to the Groom’s riddle, each speaker will look into his earthly past to offer insights and advice intended to be helpful to those in mortal state who are still making their way to the glorious halls of Heaven and the marriage banquet.

Among the guests is a poet, Cullen Clout, who in his earthly life expressed ‘in meter musical and clear / Things that do not and things that do appear.’ The Groom directs His glance toward the poet and ‘with a look beyond his power to comprehend’ addresses Cullen, assigning him the task of ‘casting out of the sense and sound’ of each answer to the riddle ‘a golden setting worthy of each choice.’ Thus every answer that follows, in chronological order from the answer of Adam to that of St John the Apostle, becomes poetry through the skill of Cullen, each a ‘Song’ appropriate to a wedding feast.

This brief account of the ‘Prologue’ to The Wedding Party may offer a hint that the poem will be situated within the literary tradition of the Christian medieval world, particularly as that tradition found expression in the poetry of the Elizabethan poet, Edmund Spenser. Cullen Clout of The Wedding Party is the American cousin of Spenser’s Colin Clout, the simple shepherd of the classical pastoral tradition who makes music for his love while tending his sheep. Just as Spenser’s Colin Clout reports to his shepherd-companions his travels to the court of the queen where he looks upon that ‘blossome of sweet joy and perfect love’ along with her exquisite attendants, so here in The Wedding Party Cullen has made his journey to the heavenly court, and now will provide for mortals in winsome song the wonderful words he hears.

As a romantic epic Philip’s poem looks to Spenser’s The Faerie Queene. Although Spenser’s poem remained unfinished, he tells us of his plan for the poem in an informative preface. The dramatic setting of Spenser’s poem is the annual feast of twelve days kept by the ‘Faerie Queene’; on each of twelve days a knight is to undertake an ‘adventure,’ and in doing so he is to represent one of the twelve virtues. Thus each of the intended twelve books would describe the adventure of one of the twelve knights. Likewise, in The Wedding Party the biblical heroes narrate their earthly adventures, noting the lessons learned through their experiences, and leading always to their discovery of the divine love celebrated now at the wedding feast.

Appropriate to the epic and reflecting The Faerie Queene, the narratives of The Wedding Party are presented to us in multiple books. But no element places the poem more definitively within the Christian tradition of romantic epic represented by Spenser’s poem than the Spenserian stanza Philip has chosen to employ. The Spenserian stanza is a challenging instrument to manipulate, a nine-line stanza in iambic meters, eight lines in pentameter, the ninth line hexameter, with a rhyme scheme ababbcbcc. They are lines that reveal their music best when read in leisure. And yet, within these lines formally recalling a sixteenth-century poem, Cullen Clout articulates the speakers’ words in an idiom pervasively modern, sometimes even colloquial: ‘Damned if you do and damned if you don’t’ begins the Song of Moses. This is an idiom not out of character, perhaps, for a poet commissioned to employ his gift ‘in such a way that every girl and every boy . . . may hasten to this joy.’

It is the method of our poet of The Wedding Party to create from the biblical record figures of flesh and blood, men and women who seem to belong to our present day. Sometimes Holy Scripture provides for the portrait a basic outline, sometimes only a cue, a mere pebble from which a living image is sculpted, Cullen expressing as directed ‘things that do not appear.’ Frequently our vision is drawn to an aspect of the biblical story that we had not noticed before, like the gleam from a finely cut gem unnoticed until light is focussed on it in a special way. Jochebed, faced with the likely loss of her ‘goodly baby,’ Moses, reflects on a parent’s pain in the tragic loss of a child, a pain expressed in ‘the long and indescribable goodbye.’ Ezekiel’s wife, in the light of her suddenly predicted ‘immediate death in the evening’ discovers the ultimate truth:

Indeed the psychology of women seems to be reflected with a particularly sympathetic understanding, as in the ‘Song of Pilate’s Wife,’ a woman who knows exactly what ambition in a Roman male means, or as the wife of the Syrian Naaman, who became ‘the mother of all those / Who help their husbands find what they need most.’ The Evangelists of the Synoptic Gospels will not go unremarked, for they are brought to life as living persons, as something more than Gospel writers, above all Mark, who presents himself sadly at first as a man of repeated failures, but one who eventually gained the strength and courage to be the companion of Peter and Paul, and was chosen by divine grace to write a Gospel.

For those who love theology there is much to stimulate the mind, but I shall point to what for me emerges as the most persistently explored theme: divine providence and divine grace. Luke claims that the subject of his Gospel is God’s providence, the ‘plan of God,’ always incapable of comprehension by the human mind. The inscrutability of the divine design evokes our wonder and our resignation. Reflecting on the fate of Israel, Josiah cries, ‘His ways we cannot comprehend,’ while Hezekiah speaks of the ‘strange and sublime ways’ of the Shepherd of Israel. Saint Joseph of the Holy Family recognizes that God’s ‘intentions’ are ‘benign,’ then adds ‘But who could comprehend His wonderful design?’ The divine intentions—all are bathed in grace, arrestingly described by Zerubbabel: ‘A grace that’s higher than the sky is blue / On a clear and crystal day.’

The Faerie Queene, we noted, was intended as a poem about the virtues. The heavenly guests in The Wedding Party are also concerned about the virtues to be practised by those on earth who are making their way to the halls of Heaven. Many of the guests speak of the virtue of patience, the readiness to accept the discipline by which God schools His disciples. There are also striking pauses in the narratives wherein the reader may surmise that he or she is hearing the voice of the American poet in harmony with that of the heavenly guests: passages on marriage and divorce (Jephthah’s daughter), on repentance (John the Baptist), on the value of labour (Nehemiah). It is, however, Naomi, who sings what is a virtually an ‘Ode to Love’:

Readers will find helpful the notes that graciously accompany the text. Allusions, clarified by the notes, reveal how deeply the traditions of western literature and Christian thought have entered into and become part of the poem. At appropriate points the guests of the wedding party recall for us our intellectual heritage, sometimes directly, sometimes indirectly: Shakespeare, Donne, Milton, Thomas Grey, Francis Thompson, Irenaeus, Tertullian, and Erasmus, to mention only a few. Not to be missed is the remarkable reflection of the Queen of Sheba who quotes the Anglican Book of Common Prayer: ‘Let your enthusiasm be more keen / To read, mark, learn and inwardly digest / Words that will edify and not demean . . . .’ It is with this admonition that I invite the reader to pursue and enjoy The Wedding Party.

PROLOGUE

1

The Book of Cullen Clout. Some time ago,

How long precisely does not matter here,

It was my calling, as I hope you know,

To chant in meter, musical and clear,

Things that do not, and things that do appear,

That men might know the worship of the Lord—

That melody might help them to draw near

The sacred mountain and the Voice that roared,

And the Transfigured One by whom we are restored.

2

When, by the secret alchemy of death,

My weary soul received its body new,

As I took in my first immortal breath

(After the Lord’s most merciful review),

I saw a vast and variegated crew

Disporting in the most elaborate dress,

As in the world the upper classes do,

But lacking their extravagant excess,

And every soul content with its divine success.

3

Among the guests I soon beheld the Groom,

Who moved among them freely as a friend;

Yet seeing in the hall there still was room

For more to come, I saw His eyes extend

A look beyond my power to apprehend

(Though power, passion, patience all were there).

And as He saw me struggle to attend

His meaning, as it were by silent prayer,

He shook His dewy locks, and I heard Him declare:

4

"Come, Cullen, take your seat and do not fear,

I have a wedding garment just for you;

But while the Vale of Sorrows is so near,

And you remember all they think and do,

Would it not be expedient and true

For you, at this Wedding Party, to employ

The gifts I gave you and the things you knew,

In such a way that every girl and boy

Who seeks the truth in love may hasten to this joy?

5

"Though I, like Jacob, think the many years

I labor with the sheep are only days,

And though I am all Hope, and have no fears,

Yet still I am a man, and in the ways

A man who loves a woman could amaze

Even Solomon the Wise, so I attest

That I like holy Boaz am ablaze

With passion for My Love and will not rest

Till in My loving arms She is forever blessed.

6

"Your mission, Cullen, if you should accept

A task so thankless in the world below—

But here, in Heaven, a poet may expect

More than he ever dreamed. Here men will know

His verses well, and will esteem them so

As on the earth only a precious few

(And often, older women) felt the glow

Of words that were both beautiful and true,

To stimulate a soul to render Love His due.

7

"And if at first it seems hard to embrace

That poets may have honor like the seers,

You’ll find that here such things are commonplace.

Old women, without frailty and fears,

Are radiant with joy for endless years.

With minds and bodies fully glorified,

They reap in rapture what they sowed in tears;

And, best of all, they have the solemn pride

Of seeing their poor souls abundant in My Bride.

8

"Nor should you think that only collars white

Are freed here from vexation and from pain.

For Heaven is the carpenters’ delight:

We’re paid on time; the customers are sane;

We never have to work against the grain

Except to gain some beauty; all the wood

Is slowly grown and aged to take the plane;

The doors hang straight and open as they should;

And all of us agree: the life we lead is good.

9

"But I digress; digression is delay;

And as I am most eager for My bride,

Your mission, Cullen, must begin today,

That She may venture quickly to My side.

And what I tell you cannot be denied:

You’ll never write more fruitful verse than this.

For men and women must increase their stride

Toward love—true love where nothing is amiss—

Before my Love and I can share Our wedding bliss.

10

"While I am standing by the Father’s hand,

Fervent in intercession for My mate,

My guests here can be working to expand

The knowledge needed in the mortal state,

The knowledge of My love that is so great,

The love My humble servants all reflect.

While time remains, although the hour is late,

What you compose may strengthen the elect,

Their ardor to increase, their errors to correct.

11

"And so, My friends, it is at last the time

For our preliminaries to begin.

I will ask Cullen to proclaim in rhyme

(Suitable to the state that men are in)

What you will say to stimulate your kin,

In answer to the riddle I will ask.

What is the prize that you may hope to win,

As you your lives’ experience unmask?

It will, I promise you, be greater than the task.

12

"For here the Bridegroom is a wiser man

Than he who put the Philistines to flight;

And wedding garments here are better than

The bloody vesture of his bitter fight.

So here’s the riddle that will give men light:

‘Why do I choose this Woman as My Bride?’

Let each one answer with his own insight,

That like the grit men in an oyster hide,

My riddle will in time produce a pearl inside.

13

"Oh, it’s a pearl that is beyond all price,

Layered with joy and sorrow, weal and woe.

And for My purpose it will now suffice,

If some of you, My friends, agree to show

The late-arriving guests what they need to know

To help them hasten toward our wedding feast,

With minds in focus and with souls aglow,

That all men, from the greatest to the least,

By learning of our love, may find their own increased."

14

Since all were slow to speak and swift to hear,

A silence followed in the gorgeous hall.

The Bridegroom urged with His accustomed cheer,

"Let those begin who were the first of all,

For only they knew Love before the Fall.

If of their lapse and lessons they will tell,

They’ll learn, who wish they could attend the Ball,

But think their love life is a living hell,

That Patience is a virtue that makes all things well.

15

"Because love is a many-sided gem,

With multitudes of facets gleaming round,

Let others, after we begin with them,

The hard-won victories of love expound.

Let each one share the facet that he found

More than all others made his soul rejoice.

Cullen will cast, out of the sense and sound,

A golden setting worthy of each choice."

After the Bridegroom ceased, old Adam raised his voice:

BOOK I

THE SONG OF ADAM

1

Why do You choose this Woman? In a way

The answer is a simple one. For He

Who braved the inspiration of the clay

Made Eve of tissue taken out of me.

There was no other; no other could there be.

Your bride consumes Your body as Her bread,

Your precious blood for wine: Thus only She

Takes substance from Her husband and Her head—

And would You want a woman for whom You had not bled?

2

But of the facets in the gem of love,

The one that most astonishes my soul,

That sparkles most with gleamings from above,

The aspect of Your love I most extol

Shines in the strange and solitary role

That only You and I alone have played.

For me it was THE MOMENT; for You the whole

Long period of courtship with Your maid,

That the contrast in the Adams might clearly be displayed.

3

To have a fallen bride, and to be yet

Oneself unfallen, takes one wiser than

Adam in Eden. Who could forget

THE MOMENT when she fell, when we began

The long relentless history of man

In his lamentable and fallen state?

(And as our gracious Maker had a plan

To save His children from their evil fate,

We learned the hardest part of wisdom is to wait.)

4

Who could describe THE MOMENT? . . . There was Eve,

Tempted, and, as I watched, the Serpent lied,

(She, in her innocence, so easy to deceive)—

And while of course it cannot be denied

That I knew better, yet I never tried

To contradict the lie or intervene—

(No man has wept more, none has ever cried

With better reason or with grief more keen,

Than the father of a race, both fallen and unclean.)

5

But THE MOMENT is my topic . . . My love,

My dear companion, both from and for me,

My lovely, undefiled, my darling dove,

Ruined, enslaved—while I was whole and free!

Ah, how much more than worlds apart were we!

My fallen sons have wondered what I thought:

There’s bondage in their curiosity;

It’s awe that’s needed when we are distraught,

The liberating awe to worship as we ought.

6

For it’s THE MOMENT that has taught me awe,

The awesome moment I did not endure;

THE MOMENT that revealed first Adam’s flaw

Reveals the Second Adam as mature.

When He was tempted, He was ever pure;

And though He loves His bride much more than I

Ever loved Eve, He is ever sure,

In meeting Her desires, to deny

His own, till She assumes Her place with Him on high.

7

A man who loves a woman someday learns

The pain of separation—less in time

And space than in the closeness that he yearns

To share with her—for unity is prime

Among his heart’s desires. So in the climb

Toward some great peak that he has made his goal,

In order to attain what is sublime,

That he may fully satisfy his soul,

The mountaineer endures, no matter what the toll.

8

To see the peak, but not to make ascent—

No overhang is harder than delay.

But while the earthly climber may lament

The weather that may keep him from his way,

Or working on the bills he has to pay,

Or his dear loved ones’ overwrought concern,

The Second Adam has the will to weigh

The benefit of what His spouse will learn

From all those earthly trials He gladly would adjourn.

9

It seems You want an educated wife,

(Oh, how I wished mine never went to school!

She suffered from the lessons all her life . . .)

But though the other children may be cruel,

I gather You have wisely made a rule

That of no useful learning will you cheat

Your spouse, till She attains the rarest jewel

Of wisdom. If She needs to, She’ll repeat

Her lessons till the Day Her learning is complete.

10

So while She’s adding virtue to Her faith,

And to Her virtue knowledge, while She learns

Godliness with contentment, and what saith

The Scripture—investments whose returns

Pay through Eternity—Her lover burns

To have His lovely lady at His side.

If they burn, let them marry . . . . So He yearns

To see the graduation of His bride—

But with His Father’s grace, He takes it all in stride.

11

To want Her so much, and so long to wait,

(Don’t think He suffered only on the Cross!)

He in a perfect, She in a fallen state!

But, oh, how quickly She would purge Her dross,

And learn to make a gain of every loss,

If only She knew how He longs for Her!

A rolling stone, they say, gathers no moss:

Then let Her forward progress be a blur!

Long as She rolls toward Him, She cannot greatly err.

12

Adam was not deceived. Adam was a fool

For Eve. Lust for knowledge was not the cause

I disobeyed our solitary rule.

God made me in His image. Let us pause

And ponder that a moment. . . . Were the flaws

In the good shepherd after God’s own heart

The lust for knowledge or for man’s applause?

Uriah’s wife was why he felt the smart;

And to be one with Eve, I stumbled at the start.

13

O, let me now His strange love still admire!

I, who was not willing to be rent

From Eve; I, who gave in to my desire,

Behold the Man! I say, the Man content

To do His Father’s will, although it meant

This long time waiting for His wounded dove.

He intercedes for Her, "over the bent

World brooding," till at last She’s free above—

Behold the waiting Groom, whose waiting is His love!

THE SONG OF EVE

1

For Adam it’s a moment, for me a day,

That crystallizes what it is You prize:

It might have been enough, that I had to pay

Wearing pathetic clothing I despise,

Or laboring to hear my babies’ cries,

Or suffering some domestic argument

With him who had been noble in my eyes—

But I had something greater to lament!

It seems You want a woman who knows how to repent.

2

Rebekah feared that she of both her sons

In a single sultry day would be deprived;

(How much the more since they were her only ones!)

This was the fruit of what she had contrived,

And when at last the dreadful day arrived

(Her touch of Jacob then would be her last,

And Esau loved her little), it derived

A poignancy that only mine surpassed,

From living out the fate that she herself had cast.

3

And those who upbraid David for his cries,

Oh, Absalom, Oh, Absalom, my son!

In my poor estimation are not wise;

For that good shepherd knew what he had done,

When leaving all his wives he took the one

That brave Uriah kept within his fold—

And from that sin his bitter fate was spun.

It is a hurt too tender to be told,

And those who chide him for his grief are much too bold.

4

If ever a mother caused the death

Of her son, then surely it was Eve.

Had I been there, when he drew his last breath,

I would have asked my Abel to believe

How truly I was sorry. Who could grieve

Like the mother who established death and sin?

Oh, nothing short of Heaven could relieve

My mourning and my infinite chagrin.

But now that I am here, I have a peace within.

5

In peace we have the power to reflect,

In peace we have the time to wonder why

Suffering is so much better to perfect

Our souls than pleasure, and to glorify

The love that sees in everything awry

An opportunity for doing good.

It is a strange love by which You ally

Your own perfection and Your hardihood

With weaklings who neglect to do the good they could.

6

If strength and weakness make a perfect match,

Your love with Your dear bride is sure to last,

Much longer than the ivy can attach

The strong and steady oak and bind it fast.

Your reciprocity is unsurpassed:

The more She clings, the further You will grow.

The rigging cannot overwhelm the mast,

For even if the winds should overflow,

Your sturdy vessel will only the faster go.

7

The mystery that I would penetrate

Is, Why do You find Her irresistible?

Oh, She has dove’s eyes: that You clearly state.

But is it really apprehensible

That we whose deeds have been abominable

Should in Your vision be immaculate?

Could God of love and pity be so full

As to choose a fallen woman for His mate?

Sometimes the simplest things are hardest to relate.

8

We sin and suffer: thus do we repent.

Ah, to what great lengths will a woman go

To have her beauty make a permanent

Impression on her lover! We all know

Of mud baths and facials in the world below,

For there were such things in the ancient days.

But with this bridegroom it shall not be so,

For He’s in touch with other, higher ways

To give His fiancée a beauty to amaze.

9

O, may the scattered guests arriving late

Heed my cosmetological advice!

I urge you, Daughters, not to hesitate,

But to seek true loveliness (to be concise,

The simple virtues which are of great price

In our good bridegroom’s ever-loving eyes).

A meek and quiet spirit will suffice

To give you beauty He will greatly prize.

Oh, trim your lamps and come, virgins holy and wise!

10

Instead of your fathers there shall be your sons;

Your clothing shall be glorious within,

With needlework as golden as the sun’s

And purple even Tyre cannot spin;

Inside and out, your beauty shall win

The heart of the great King upon His throne;

Your past will be as if it had not been,

As His great love for you is better known;

For He who died for you desires you alone.

11

So hasten to our party and rejoice

That there’s an end to all your troubles here;

The consequences of your fatal choice

Are swallowed up in victory and cheer;

And while the daystar in your heart draws near

(Up on the high road you can see it well)

Keep on the glooming path and have no fear,

For you’ll be dancing over death and Hell,

Dancing with the Husband with whom you’ll ever dwell.

THE SONG OF NOAH’S WIFE

1

In the eyes of the Lord Noah found grace . . . .

The Scripture there says nothing about me;

And I would very willingly efface

The part I played, my infidelity

Both to my spouse and to the Deity—

Not of the crude and coarse and carnal kind

For which our neighbors had affinity—

The infidelity within the mind,

To this my undulating song will be confined.

2

Of course my husband stood out from the crowd!

(It’s what he saw in me I cannot solve . . . .)

In the beginning I was truly proud

To be the wife of Noah. His resolve

To live unto the Lord, not to revolve

Around this wicked world, impressed me much.

Then came the day he said, "God will dissolve

This wilderness of sin"—and other such

Denunciations. If your husband’s out of touch

3

With you and with the only world you know,

Why, Sweetheart, I could be your patron saint

(If only the good Lord would have it so).

Later I wished that I’d had some restraint,

But since it is our duty to acquaint

Starry-eyed husbands with the facts of life,

And to do my duty I was never faint—

(You’d think a man with such an active wife

Would calculate his blessings and refrain from strife!)

4

Then, just when you think it can’t get any worse:

And, Honey, God said we’re to build an ark! . . .

Some women, I suppose, would never curse,

Not even after such a wild remark;

Well, they would be more ready to embark

On such a voyage than I was back then.

So much for marriage as a walk-in-the-park!

While Noah was busy preaching to the men,

The neighbors’ wives took turns to play comedienne.

5

It’s easier to be a laughing-stock

If you’re the one to whom God gave the call.

It’s easier to hear the neighbors mock

If you can read the writing on the wall.

But usually these kinds of things befall

Not just the prophet, but his wife and kids—

And then the cheeky neighbors have the gall

To wonder why your marriage hit the skids;

And all you want to say is what the Lord forbids.

6

Of course I wondered if he’d heard from God

As all our time and money went to build;

To venture everything is worse than odd:

If the prophecy he gave were not fulfilled

Our foolishness could never be distilled

Into a spirit that would lessen pain.

One’s hopes have irretrievably been spilled:

You cannot, will not dare to hope again;

But will your husband see that it was all in vain?

7

I’ve wondered if it is the harder part

To be married to a prophet or a fool.

For many years your undulating heart

Will have such motion sicknesses that you’ll

Conclude it hardly matters as a rule.

What difference, you will wonder, does it make

If I have wed a blockhead or a jewel—

If he has made a terrible mistake,

Or is the only man who truly is awake?

8

In either case you’re bound to suffer much.

Sometimes you’ll wish you never had been born,

Like Job or Jeremiah in the clutch

Of quandaries, calamities, and scorn;

Sometimes you’ll wish that you had never sworn

To follow faithfully no matter what,

Aware of every tongue that tried to warn

You not to throw your lot in with that nut—

And what they’re saying now, you’re unable to rebut.

9

Of course you will evaluate your man:

The fruit he brings forth, Is it good or bad?

No husband ever will do better than

My Noah, who in righteousness was clad,

In worship of the Lord was ever glad,

Whose love and zeal for God were like a cloak—

But still I wondered if I had been had,

And wished I could be taken with a stroke,

And wondered why we could not be like other folk.

10

Daughters, I think it is the better part

To give the man the benefit of doubt;

For there’s a peace that comes into the heart

When we realize we cannot figure out

Ultimately what our husbands are about.

Whether we think they’re right or they are wrong

It’s better if we help than if we pout,

For the time of finding out may well be long,

And things will be much neater if we come along.

11

Authors can drone on all they want about

Metabolism that’s miraculous;

But I was there; I have not any doubt

About the things they comfortably discuss:

Manure and more manure—that was us!

And who do you suppose rolled up her sleeves,

Knowing to clean is better than to fuss?

No time for dusting; it was time for heaves . . .

It’s over. Should I care what anyone believes?

12

But here’s the thing that would just make me burn,

Except I know that there’s a Judgment Day:

Some big professor, who has much to learn,

Pontificates that it was not that way—

That after I fixed all that disarray,

And after I put up with all that mud,

The idiot leads everyone astray—

He tells them that there never was a flood!

They don’t believe the Word, but they believe his crud.

13

But now that I have been delivered twice,

Once from the old world, and once when I came here

(Where everything, thank God, is neat and nice!),

I really am a great deal less severe.

The Bridegroom’s sunny and contagious cheer

Just melts away the things that used to grieve.

I love to see my husband in his sphere;

The Bridegroom grants a permanent reprieve—

I guess He wants a Woman who’s labored to believe.

THE SONG OF ABRAHAM

1

The father of the faithful—What a trip!

(And every step of it more like a dream

Than the ecstasies of persons in the grip

Of the dull world that never can redeem

The promises with which it seems to teem,

But the end of them is always to enthrall)—

The privilege of seeking out the gleam,

The pilgrimage of following the call

The God of glory gives unto the least of all.

2

To me appeared the One whom we exalt

In indescribable theophany;

With me He cut a covenant of salt

(The torch and furnace were His guarantee);

He gave my serving men the victory

That we might tithe unto Melchizedek;

And when my poor heart made its silent plea,

He chose to keep His righteous wrath in check

Till Lot alone escaped from Sodom’s awful wreck.

3

To lovely Sarah and to me He gave

The desire we’d forgotten we had had.

The son of promise could not be a slave;

The barren woman would no more be sad,

And in the day He chose to make us glad

He gave to each of us another name,

(For to His mercies He will ever add!)

And though in Egypt I had brought Him shame,

I sit among you here as one who overcame.

4

Oh, I could praise Him for so many things!

But I, like Adam, have a special time

I share with Him alone. The memory brings

A vast intensity of awe that I’m

Unable to describe. So, Cullen, rhyme

It as you will, what man will comprehend

The day when we began the awful climb?—

The day Isaac and I had to ascend

Moriah’s mountains, and I struggled to suspend

5

The love a father has for his own son.

That day I struggled so hard to deny

My heart, I wished I never had begun

The journey that would end in this goodbye.

Many a healthy man has wondered why

And how I brought myself to do the deed.

Why was I willing for my son to die?

I knew from whom I had received the seed.

He said, Give back!—then waited, till Abraham agreed.

6

I knew that God could raise him from the dead,

So what you’ve read of me that way is true;

But that good thought was mainly in my head:

I could not render Yahweh what was due

Based only on the strength of what I knew—

It had to be a matter of the heart

(And even then it was so hard to do!)

Isaac was a gift; we knew it from the start;

The Giver could command, and I would do my part.

7

It wasn’t just a sense of what I owed

That gave me strength to struggle toward the height.

Nothing could ever lighten such a load;

Nothing could ever make that burden light.

Deep in my soul I knew that it was right

To give back to the Giver what was His.

(Not that it ever seemed good in my sight!)

It’s really just a case of who He is.

The Judge of all the earth, in answer to my quiz,

8

Had shown He has compassion when we yearn.

Fool that I was, I thought that there were ten

Good men in Sodom, good enough to earn

Reprieve for all, although it was the den

Of rich and proud, perverse and idle men,

Who would not share their blessings with the poor.

To my heart’s cry He added His amen;

His angel escort prompted Lot to Zoar:

The Judge of all the earth listens when we implore.

9

He knew I loved my brother and his son.

So on the day He exercised His wrath,

Before the angels did what must be done,

Lot was delivered from the brimstone bath.

And as my son and I toiled up the path,

Wood on his back, the fire in my hand,

Remembering Sodom and its aftermath,

The love He showed me when He scorched the land

Sustained me as I sought to honor His command.

10

He knew my heart, and I knew His so well

(Our firm-united hearts did more than twine),

He knew I could not handle the farewell,

Though I would give Him anything that’s mine;

So with a grace that simply is divine

He held my other hand upon the slope

(He my supporting elm and I His vine),

And as I climbed, my Maker gave me hope;

I could not understand, but somehow I could cope.

11

And every step of it more like a dream . . .

But none so much as when I took the blade

To slay my son, to satisfy the scheme

Of Him who has the right to be obeyed,

Whether or not He hastens to our aid,

As His angel did that day upon the mount—

The day He told me I had made the grade,

Depositing my faith in His account,

Where tiny sums in time may grow to great amount.

12

And now that it’s all over, now I share

With Him the fellowship beyond all price,

Of giving up my heritage and heir—

Offering up the ultimate sacrifice

(Though at the altar it was gestured twice,

Of its fulfillment there could be but one . . . .)

So efficacious, able to suffice

All unrequited love beneath the sun,

And all the sin and folly by which we are undone.

13

The satisfactions that the old world gives

Are nothing like the joys that I sustain.

To be the father of a faith that lives

Is richer far than gold or silver’s gain,

Greater than kingdoms men aspire to reign

(Whether in land or letters or in art).

Nothing on earth can equal my domain—

And something more than that sets me apart:

My Maker shared with me the suffering of His heart.

14

Think it not strange when fiery trials come:

When faith and strength cannot endure the test;

When duty calls you and your soul is numb,

The Spirit walks with you till you find rest,

Till in the end your tortured heart is blest

(For faith may flourish on disaster’s heels,

As many saints will certainly attest).

What’s the bright facet that my life reveals?

I think He wants a Bride who knows just how He feels.

THE SONG OF SARAH

1

He wants a Bride who knows just how He feels;

My trouble was, He knew just how I felt.

Though I was careful to conceal my squeals,

Hiding behind the fabric where I dwelt,

Yet His discerning answer made me melt,

And in my fear I stammered out a lie.

Oh, there are lessons in the way He dealt

With me, lessons that made me laugh and cry.

The late-arriving guests should know the reasons why.

2

There is a laughter that combines with awe

(If only I had laughed that way at first!)

It’s holy laughter, not a rough guffaw;

For when I was so clearly at my worst,

When all my secret thoughts the Lord rehearsed—

See what He chose to treasure in His Word!

He gave me Isaac, whom I loved and nursed;

My foolishness He quietly interred,

And left me with a blessing which simply is absurd.

3

For in the torrent of my sinful thought,

By force of habit I called Abram, Lord.

Why the Holy Spirit should have caught

That single word (and all the rest ignored),

I cannot grasp. To have this great reward,

To be a model for the faithful few,

When all my sins might have been underscored . . . .

I called Abram Lord. Well, that much is true;

But think how you would feel, if God so coddled you.

4

It’s obvious He had me dead to rights:

I mocked; I lied; I only thought of me.

I really think it’s one of His delights

To shower blessings in a great degree

When He has shown us some severity,

As, for example, when He changed my words.

Watch out when you show Him hospitality!

What you assert He’ll say is for the birds,

Even while He munches on your calf and curds.

5

Yet every hostess learns about her guest

By how he treats her when he’s gone his way—

Taken for granted sometimes, sometimes blessed

By a card or flowers on a busy day;

But when did any guest ever repay

The hostess to whom he had been severe,

By carefully concealing feet of clay,

And making all her follies disappear,

To praise her as a model, as if she had no peer?

6

And even as He gave me His rebuke,

He did it that my faith might be increased:

O, do not think your trials are a fluke!

The One who made the Promise at our feast,

Who loves to make the most of what is least,

Hating the nascent deadness in my soul

(Because my hope of giving birth had ceased),

Desired more than simply to console:

He stung me to my senses, that I might be whole.

7

As by my trials my poor faith was built

Till I could be the mother of you all,

As by repentance I was freed from guilt

That I might be a belle at this great Ball

And welcome many to our entrance hall

(Saint Peter’s much too busy for all that!),

The secret’s all in following the call,

Especially through the times you wonder at,

Like when the Lord of All stops by to sit and chat.

8

When angels drop in to be entertained

It’s really better to be unaware.

The reasons why are easily explained:

Instead of cooking, you might sit and stare,

Or worry much about the disrepair

You more than once have mentioned to your spouse;

(Although of course you might be more in prayer

If you knew just Who was sitting in your house.)

And any well-bred host or hostess would espouse

9

Whatever their angelic guests might say.

Yet Abraham himself was very bold,

Knowing it was a now-or-never day,

Not just to listen to what he was told,

But knowing Whom he held, to grab ahold

Of his own Maker in a verbal match.

(What god by his own creature is controlled?)

He grappled with his Maker with dispatch

And, unlike Israel, came off without a scratch.

10

O, when you marry, who knows what you’ve got?

It takes a lot of living to find out.

It really doesn’t matter, whether or not

He is just what you thought he was about;

(Though certainly it helps if he’s devout,

That’s not a guarantee that’s ironclad—

What he’s devoted to, you well may doubt!)

I’ve noticed wives who in the end are glad

Devoutly tried to make the best of what they had.

11

There never was a man like Abraham:

I knew that long before the fatal day

He went to sacrifice without a lamb.

And if you’ve wondered what I heard him say

As he gently led our only son away,

It was a mighty volume in a look

Of certainty much clouded with dismay.

It told me clearly that he would not brook

Some wifely opposition to what he undertook.

12

Of course in my wildest dreams I had no clue

That anything so dreadful could occur.

He did not tell me what he had to do,

And when he came back, he did not refer

To what had happened. It was all a blur,

Till he at last was ready to release

The burden that I never could infer.

I let him talk, I let his weeping cease,

And when my own subsided, we had peace.

13

I know the story does not mention me:

It says that at Beersheba Abraham dwelt.

But that he dwelt with me is plain to see.

We came before the altar; there we knelt

Before the gracious Deity that dealt

Us mercy that we cannot overstate,

Mercy that even now makes my heart melt . . . .

Why does the Lord our barren souls berate?

He wants a Bride with faith that She can procreate.

THE SONG OF ABRAHAM’S STEWARD

1

Though all my master’s goods were in my hand,

And I could take whatever I might need,

To help me on my journey overland,

Don’t think it was so easy to succeed,

Or that a good result was guaranteed

Because the camels labored under gold.

I trusted that our master’s God would speed

Us on our way, but I was not so bold

As to think my task accomplished, because it was foretold.

2

Oh, this was not an ordinary task!

To find a partner for my master’s heir

Was much for even Abraham to ask.

Would there really be a girl who would dare

To follow a stranger she knew not where,

And wed a husband she had never seen?

No wonder that I started with a prayer!

Just then Rebekah came upon the scene,

And I was captivated swiftly by her mien.

3

Oh, she was beautiful! But would she work?

That was the question; I just had to know

If she was active or inclined to shirk

The duties her new status would bestow.

The miracle that followed her hello,

Her giving us and all the camels drink,

Was perfect and abundant proof to show

That from the hardest work she would not shrink.

The God of Abraham knows all we ask or think.

4

I really was more astonished than relieved,

(Though certainly I felt a great relief).

For first of all, none of us had believed

In Sarah’s motherhood, that all her grief

Could blossom into joy, (after her brief

But pointed lesson on the faith she lacked,

The interview about her unbelief,

With just a touch of tutoring on tact)—

But we all saw the great fulfillment of the pact.

5

Promises, promises, but here was the son!

Abram had told me that God had declared

Blessing by him would come to everyone,

(A statement for which no man is prepared!)

What glory known to man could be compared

To this pronouncement from the Lord of All?

And those of us who knew of it were scared—

Caring for Isaac before he could crawl,

And constantly fearful lest harm should befall

6

The son in whom the Word must be fulfilled.

So when I swore I would find him a bride,

Oh, I was burdened more than I was thrilled.

Suddenly it’s up to me to provide

A woman who is worthy to be tied

In matrimony with the promised heir.

That this was an honor cannot be denied,

An honor that would drive a man to prayer,

And make him wonder if he was a fool to swear

7

(Hand under thigh) to meet the master’s need.

But if what I knew were a burden to me,

Thank God that I was ignorant indeed,

That I was quite unable to foresee

That to the faithful I would ever be

A symbol of the Spirit of the Lord.

Had I known that, I’d have been utterly

Beside myself, yes, completely floored,

Unable to function, unworthy of reward.

8

But as it was I felt a heavy weight,

A burden and an urgency that made

Me eager to bring my master his mate.

So not for a moment could I be stayed,

No matter how sweetly they tried to dissuade,

And the Lord, through Rebekah, prospered my way

(As He did on this journey whenever I prayed).

With her and her maidens we left the next day;

To Beersheba we traveled and brooked no delay.

9

In the field my master lifted his eyes;

Rebekah alighted, and soon they were one.

To the guests still arriving I strongly advise,

In all your labor underneath the sun,

Know that your work has not really