William Baxter's Eden, Earth, and Heaven

William Baxter

Eden, Earth, and Heaven (1846)

T H E

L A D I E S ' R E P O S I T O R Y .

J A N U A R Y, 1 8 4 6 .

E D E N , E A R T H , A N D H E A V E N .

BY WILLIAM BAXTER.

FAR in the vista of the dreary past,
Man's story seems, amid the gath'ring gloom,
Like some fair spring of promise; but at last
Its flowers are gather'd to bedeck the tomb.
Changeful, amid this ever changing scene,
Form'd first for joys beyond what angels know;
Yet clouds between his hopes now intervene,
And staining guilt hath wrought him bitter woe.
In him are found thoughts lofty and sublime,
Worthy to stir within a seraph's breast;
And yet debased, a very thing of crime,
Racked by the terrors of despair's unrest.
Godlike in form, called by his Maker good,
Bearing his impress on his noble brow,
First-born of heaven when first on earth he stood--
Look at his crimes and ask what is he now?
"Strange contradiction, child of God and sin,"
Seraph and demon here seemed joined in one.
The wondrous story how shall I begin,
To sing heaven lost and how it may be won!
How first creation from chaotic night
Sprang forth in all its pristine loveliness!
How haggard darkness first gave birth to light!
O, how can feeble mortal's tongue express!
Yet man, the top-stone of the mighty whole,
The angel's wonder be it mine to sing,
Before he lost God's image from his brow,
And when in arms against his lawful King:
His loneliness, bereft of Eden's bliss,
And point the path by which he yet may rise,
Escape the sorrows of a world like this,
And find a dwelling far beyond the skies:
Show that a brighter Eden yet shall bloom,
And triumph mark his rising from the tomb.

* * * * * *

Deep darkness shrouded all things, and the night
Of chaos rul'd, unconscious of the light;
Life stirred not; all was dreadful silence there;
Not e'en a zephyr moved the sullen air;
No wavelets rippled o'er that awful deep,
But lay like slumb'rers in a charmed sleep,
By some magician's powerful hand subdued,
And all seemed one eternal solitude:
No sun arose to chase the dreadful gloom
From the abyss which seemed a fearful tomb;
Night knew not then the sweet return of day;
No moon poured on the scene its placid ray;
No glimmering star its feeble fires had given,
Of all those hosts which deck the expanse of heaven;
Angels were mute round the eternal throne,
And silence seemed to reign supreme--alone.

God spake! and at his awful word,
Which broke upon eternal night,
The depths of the abyss were stirr'd,
And from its gloom uprose the light:
Type of the power which gave it birth,
To bless and gladden all the earth.

God spake! the glorious arch of heaven
Spread its blue canopy on high,
Ere stars, like pearly isles, were given
To float in that bright, sapphire sky;
Yet all that bright expanse above
Is not more boundless than his love.

God spake! earth sprang from out the deep,
Eager to seek the joyous light,
While ocean, waken'd from its sleep,
Flung high its waves which flash so bright;
And its hoarse murmurs on the strand
Proclaim'd its great Creator's hand.

God spake! the azure vault on high
Receiv'd the sun's first cheering light;
And, full orb'd, in the evening sky
Arose the moon, fair queen of night;
And twinkling stars then first were given,
To shed their chasten'd light in heaven.

God spake! the cheerless, lifeless deep
Then teemed with life in every wave;
Where'er the winds its waters sweep,
Life throng'd each secret coral cave:
While bright wing'd birds from every bough^*
Utter their sweetest carols now.

God spake! behold that form of clay!
He breathes! it rises: lo! it lives:
God's crowning work is done to day;
For God to man his image gives:
Here centres all creation's plan,
Its great design made known in man.

The work is done; and lo! the shining throng,
Which gazed in silence on the new-born earth,
Burst forth, admiring, in a rapt'rous song,
And join the starry choir to hail its birth.
Astonishment had seal'd their lips before,
As each new wonder rose beneath their eyes--
Man crowns the whole, and now the mingled roar
Of glad rejoicing swells along the skies.
Behold him now, amid those happy scenes,
Unstained by sin, his worship undefiled:
No cloud of guilt its dark form intervenes--
He rules earth's monarch, and its Maker's child.

* * * * * *

Behold him there, amid the flowers which bloomed,
With balmiest sweets that nature knows perfumed:
His were the trees, the flowers, the earth he trod--
His only duty gratitude to God.
And while he in this blissful state remained,
No bleeding victim e'er his altar stained;
No clouds of incense floated through the air,
Nor e'en was heard the voice of humble prayer;
No deep contrition, and no solemn vow,
For still he wore God's image on his brow; [20]
But like the angels who, adoring, stand
Around the throne, a bright and glorious band,
Who their glad voices oft delight to raise,
And swell the song of high, triumphant praise,
Thus man then worshiped Him whose awful word
Startled all chaos when his voice was heard,
Who formed the earth and man, its priest, to bear
To God the praise which murmured ev'rywhere.
O, happy state! the angels knew no bliss,
Nor sung a purer, holier strain than his,
When from fair Eden's uncorrupted sod,
With pure delight man saw the face of God,
Lived in his smiles, which beamed as bright on him
As those which bless the adoring seraphim,
And felt his love as freely, richly given
As when it feasts angelic souls in heaven.
Thoughts pure as theirs then dwelt within his breast:
He called God Father, and in him was blest.
But, ah! the tempter lurked amid those bowers,
And wove his wiles beneath its fairest flowers.
Each art in vain the wily flatterer tried,
Until he reached him through his beauteous bride:
They heard the tempter, did his will, and fell,
And changed the bloom of Eden to a hell.
Then turned, alas! all nature's smiles to gloom;
Then opened first the portals of the tomb:
Tears, sighs, and griefs, all in a moment born,
Sprang into being on that fearful morn;
For on that morn man first drew mortal breath,
And then began thy iron rule, O Death!
Behold him exiled from his blissful home,
A wanderer, o'er a cursed earth to roam,
Until the sentence he himself owns just
Consigns his form back to its kindred dust.
But, lo! the bow of promise meets his view,
To cheer his pathway by its radiant hue;
It speaks redemption--tells him he shall rise,
And gain a mansion far above the skies.
But ere the dawning of that promised light,
Man wandered long in error's gloomy night,
Made himself gods of ev'ry shape and name,
And, lost to feeling, gloried in his shame.
There stand the gods of ev'ry age and clime,
Some brute, some human, stained with ev'ry crime,
And yet to these man bent a suppliant knee--
The idols baser than the devotee:
Though born to rule, he yields his noble right,
And, madly blind, declares there is no light.
Behold the teachers of this gloomy age,
Who claimed the names, priest, oracle, and sage,
And led our race from heaven's unfailing springs
To trace the desert of their wanderings,
Their hearts o'erflowing with presumptuous pride,
With naught but human reason for their guide.
The crafty priest, with solemn pomp and show,
Seemed all heaven's wondrous mysteries to know,
And dared to call (with impious breath) divine
The lying wonders of the Delphian shrine;
Told all his foll'wers 'twas a god that spoke
In the hoarse murmurs of Dodona's oak;
And the wild visions of his fancy fired,
He taught some high divinity inspired.
To priests like these man humbly bent his knee,
And at such shrines paid his idolatry.
The Stoic, ruled by stern, unchanging fate,
Remained unmoved, alike in ev'ry state:
His only virtue, and his whole defense,
His guide through life, was cold indifference;
Slave of a creed which chills affection's fires--
Which no pure joy or heartfelt hope inspires--
Which blunts the noble feelings of the heart,
Where pure, unmingled love can claim no part;
A creed which bound its votaries to wear
A look unchanged by smile or hallowed tear--
To feel no pity move within the breast--
To lull life's sorrows to a peaceful rest.
Such was the teacher who aspired to bind
His chilling dogmas on the human mind,
Which never have, and never can impart
A single hope, to cheer the human heart.
The Epicurean next, dark passion's slave,
In dulcet tones his creed of pleasure gave.
He sought no purer, loftier scene of bliss
Than pleasure yields her devotees in this.
That faith embodied, all the world may see
Displayed by the proud, boastful Sadducee.
Ask both their creed, they have but one reply:
Enjoy to-day, to-morrow we may die.
But the long promised day is drawing near,
And in the east the star of hope appears:
The magi hail with joy the heav'nly sign
Which guides lost man to seek a holier shrine:
They follow on with joy the peaceful star,
Which led their wand'ring footsteps from afar,
With richest gifts to follow in its train,
To welcome peace and joy to earth again.
Their task is done! the Savior's born! behold,
The starry skies above are backward rolled,
And to the shepherd's on Judea's plains
A seraph's voice his advent thus proclaims:
"Fear not, I bring you words of peace and love,
From Him who rules o'er all in heaven above.
Now is fulfilled his everlasting word,
To-day is born a Savior, Christ the Lord."
Amazed, the shepherds wond'ring stand to hear
The mighty angel's mission sounding near:
His robes of white, so dazzling to their eyes,
And tuneful voice fill them with glad surprise.
While thus they gaze a countless host appears,
And this glad anthem strikes upon their ears:

Glory to God in highest strains,
His Son descends to earth;
Though man be silent, angel tongues
Shall sing his wondrous birth.
He comes to break the captive's chain,
And grant him sweet release--
To bid all war and strife to end,
And fill the world with peace. [21]

Glory to God! the promised light
This day begins to shine,
Which soon shall beam on every land
With radiance all divine.
Mortals, receive this gift of love
To you so freely given,
Your sacred Prophet, Priest, and King,
The richest gift of heaven.

Glory to God! his Son comes down
To teach man how to rise,
From sin and sorrow here below
To glory in the skies.
Good will to man! the joyful note
Let angels sound again,
That all the tribes of earth may hear
And join the loud amen.

* * * * * *

Thus heralded, the great Redeemer came,
To bless and gladden this dark world of ours,
To rescue man from all his guilt and shame,
And fit him for a brighter Eden's bowers;
Where, far beyond the confines of the tomb,
Life's crystal current flows for ever clear;
The tree of life retains its fadeless bloom,
For smiling summer reigns eternal there.
Yet man, the rebel, spurned the offered grace
Of Him who came a dying world to save,
And madly chose to run the downward race,
And make the goal of life the dreary grave;
But still God's chosen mildly bade him learn
To ground the weapons of unholy strife,
Back to the fountain of true bliss return,
To peace, to heaven, and to eternal life.
Few listen'd to that calm, entreating voice,
Which once to rest had hush'd the angry waves,
Which ofttimes made the mourner's heart rejoice,
And which shall wake earth's slumb'rers from their graves;
That voice which once bade all the weary come,
And prove that love which burned within his heart--
Which voice at last shall fix man's final doom,
And bid to anguish all his foes depart.
Though God had own'd him at the Jordan's side,
And bade the nations hear him and obey;
Yet unbelief and Pharisaic pride
Caused all to turn in listlessness away--
Turn a deaf ear to Heaven's supreme command,
The call to life and purest joys on high;
Despise the honors placed at God's right hand,
The mansions fair reserved above the sky.
But not content with apathetic sleep,
Which caused the Savior once to turn and weep,
When musing over Salem's hapless fate,
Her harden'd sons, and temple desolate,
The frenzied nation sought the precious blood
Of Him who came to lead men back to God.
First rose the priesthood, fired by deadly hate,
The Church, too, leagued for evil with the state--
The priest, and Pilate, Herod, all combine--
The powers of earth against the power Divine;
While the fierce rabble, with one voice, all cry,
"Give him, you call the Nazarene, to die.
He styles himself the well-beloved of God,
For which proud boast the law demands his blood;
Yes, on the cross, for this presumptuous deed,
Let this pretender for his folly bleed:
And should the blood of innocence be spilt,
On us and on our children be the guilt."
Then wildly raise this shout, which rends the sky,
"To Calvary's steep, and there to crucify."

* * * * * *

The scene is changed: the victim hangs on high,
On that curst wood, for rebel man to die,
To which all nations now may turn their eyes,
And there behold their bleeding sacrifice.
A thorny crown is pressed upon his brow,
Whence blood and tears in mingled currents flow;
Coarse soldiers jest, the priests now vent their hate,
On that lone suff'rer, now so desolate,
Who meekly up to heaven directs his eyes,
And thus to God, in tender accents, cries,
"Father, forgive, though they their hands imbrue
In guiltless blood, they know not what they do."
And now a darkness, solemn and profound,
Spreads its dark pall that guilty land around;
An earthquake bursts beneath, with fearful shock,
And from its base upheaves each massy rock;
A hand unseen the temple's vail divides,
(The hand which form'd the earth and which still guides,)
The token sure that Jewish rites were past,
And the great sacrifice now slain at last.
'Tis done! His last expiring sigh is given--
Finish'd the work for which he came from heaven.
That precious blood, for us so freely spilt,
Can so wash out our deepest stains of guilt,
That God can justly call vile man his own,
And bid him dwell for ever near his throne.
But, lo! they bear the body to the tomb,
To rest enshrouded by its fearful gloom,
While Roman guards with measur'd step advance--
All clad in mail and armed with sword and lance--
To keep their vigils round the peaceful dead
Until the third eventful morn had sped,
And every hope of rising should depart,
Which linger'd in each drooping follower's heart.
But on that morn, before bright day had shed
Its earliest glories on Mount Carmel's head,
The sleeper rose, a conqueror over death--
Pledge of our rising to immortal breath
To die no more: the grave is vanquished now,
And deathless laurels crown the victor's brow.

* * * * * *

But time sweeps on: the Gospel's glorious light
Dispels the darkness of surrounding night;
Its tones bid man cast off the tyrant's chain,
And seek his lost inheritance again; [22]
Points out the way from this sin-stained abode
To peace and heaven, to glory, and to God.
A Pagan priesthood trembles with affright,
Dark superstition flies the hated light;
Earth's wisdom bends to hear the joyful sound,
And glad hosannas ring the world around.

* * * * * *

The scene is chang'd: time's story now is told;
The Christian army all have been enroll'd;
A mighty angel down to earth now flies,
Lifts high his hand toward the azure skies,
And, with a voice that swells from shore to shore,
Declares in thunder, "Time shall be no more."
And now heaven's congregated thunders roll,
Waking deep horror in each guilty soul:
Swift lightnings gleam athwart the azure sky,
Dark, direful portents flash before each eye,
Proclaiming loud the final hour has come
When all shall hear the Judge announce their doom.
Behold! in clouds the Savior now comes down
Redemption's mighty, glorious work to crown:
High in the heavens the great white throne appears,
Striking the guilty with dark, boding fears:
His saints behold his ensign in the sky,
And raise, with joy, their songs of triumph high,
While at his voice the dead awake, and see
The grave subdued, so long their enemy:
As up they spring from out its dark abode,
Through all creation peals the trump of God:
The final fires blaze round the trembling world,
By one vast shock to flaming chaos hurl'd:
Cities, and seas, and mountains catch the fire,
And form one vast, tremendous fun'ral pyre.
The scene has closed, the earth has pass'd away,
Now dawns the morn of an eternal day:
All earthly ties are now for ever riven,
And man again beholds his God in heaven.

A city, glorious as the sun,
Now bursts upon my sight;
And all its blest inhabitants
Are clad in spotless white.

A diadem is on each brow,
Whose sparkling jewels shine
Brighter than all that ever flash'd
In India's richest mine.

Sign of the victory they have won,
A palm waves in each hand;
A song of praise swells on each tongue
Of all that glorious band.

Behold! they tune their golden harps,
And hark what strains they sing:
"Glory and wide dominion now
Belong unto our King!"

Are these the angels that look'd on
And saw creation's birth;
Who pealed their joyous anthems forth
When first uprose the earth?

No; these can sing a nobler strain:
Salvation is the song
Which bursts in rapture from the lips,
Of that bright, happy throng.

Redeemed, from ev'ry clime they came,
Once man's lost, fallen race,
To dwell for ever in the smile
Of their Redeemer's face.

And while eternal years roll on,
Their harps they shall employ,
To swell the high and lofty notes
Of triumph and of joy.

^*Birds were created from the water.

[The Ladies' Repository 6 (January 1846): 20-23.]

ABOUT THE ELECTRONIC EDITION

William Baxter's "Eden, Earth, and Heaven" was first published in The Ladies' Repository, and Gatherings of the West: A Monthly Periodical Devoted to Literature and Religion, Vol. 6, No. 1, January 1846, p. 20-23. This volume, edited by B. F. Tefft, was published in Cincinnati by L. Swormstedt and J. T. Mitchell and in New York by G. Lane and C. B. Tippett for the Methodist Episcopal Church.

Pagination in the electronic version has been represented by placing the page number in brackets following the last complete word on the printed page.

Addenda and corrigenda are earnestly solicited.

Ernie Stefanik
Derry, PA

Created 9 April 2000.
Updated 28 June 2003.

William Baxter

Eden, Earth, and Heaven (1846)

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