The Night, Henry Vaughn

The Night, by Henry Vaughan

      John 3.2

         Through that pure Virgin-shrine,

That sacred veil drawn o’er Thy glorious noon,

That men might look and live, as glo-worms shine,

             And face the moon,

    Wise Nicodemus saw such light

    As made him know his God by night.

         Most blest believer he!

Who in that land of darkness and blinde eyes

Thy long expected healing wings could see,

             When Thou didst rise!

    And, what can never more be done,

    Did at mid-night speak with the Sun!

         O who will tell me, where

He found Thee at that dead and silent hour?

What hallow’d solitary ground did bear

             So rare a flower;

    Within whose sacred leaves did lie

    The fulness of the Deity?

         No mercy-seat of gold,

No dead and dusty cherub, nor carv’d stone,

But His own living works did my Lord hold

             And lodge alone;

    Where trees and herbs did watch and peep

    And wonder, while the Jews did sleep.

         Dear night! this world’s defeat;

The stop to busie fools; care’s check and curb;

The day of spirits; my soul’s calm retreat

             Which none disturb!

    Christ’s progress, and His prayer time;

    The hours to which high Heaven doth chime;

         God’s silent, searching flight;

When my Lord’s head is filled with dew, and all

His locks are wet with the clear drops of night;

             His still, soft call;

    His knocking time; the soul’s dumb watch,

    When spirits their fair kindred catch.

         Were all my loud, evil days

Calm and unhaunted as is thy dark tent,

Whose peace but by some angel’s wing or voice

             Is seldom rent,

    Then I in heaven all the long year

    Would keep, and never wander here.

         But living where the sun

Doth all things wake, and where all mix and tyre

Themselves and others, I consent and run

             To ev’ry myre,

    And by this world’s ill guiding light,

    Err more than I can do by night.

         There is in God, some say,

A deep but dazzling darkness; as men here

Say it is late and dusky, because they

             See not all clear.

    O for that night! where I in Him

    Might live invisible and dim!

Cover of Silex Scintillans, Henry Vaughan, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Cover of Silex Scintillans, Henry Vaughan, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons