Chapter XIV

I commence By trying to inform you, whence It comes that every Easter-night As now, I sit up, watch, till light, Upon those chimney-stacks and roofs, Give, through my window-pane, grey proofs That Easter-day is breaking slow. On such a night three years ago, It chanced that I had cause to cross The common, where the chapel was, Our friend spoke of, the other day— You’ve not forgotten, I dare say. I fell to musing of the time So close, the blessed matin-prime All hearts leap up at, in some guise— One could not well do otherwise. Insensibly my thoughts were bent Toward the main point; I overwent Much the same ground of reasoning As you and I just now. One thing Remained, however—one that tasked My soul to answer; and I asked, Fairly and frankly, what might be That History, that Faith, to me —Me there—not me in some domain Built up and peopled by my brain, Weighing its merits as one weighs Mere theories for blame or praise, —The kingcraft of the Lucumons, Or Fourier’s scheme, its pros and cons,— But my faith there, or none at all. “How were my case, now, did I fall “Dead here, this minute—should I lie “Faithful or faithless?”

To this solemn question a friendly answer seems to come from Common Sense, assuring him that all would be right; for, though his ship might not sail very grandly into the eternal haven, it was enough if, in whatever state of wreck, it arrived at all; which leads him to utter the deepest wish and expectation of his heart:—

Would the ship reach home! I wish indeed “God’s kingdom come—” The day when I shall see appear His bidding, as my duty, clear From doubt! And it shall dawn, that day, Some future season; Easter may Prove, not impossibly, the time— Yes, that were striking—fates would chime So aptly! Easter-morn, to bring The Judgment!—deeper in the spring Than now, however, when there’s snow Capping the hills; for earth must show All signs of meaning to pursue Her tasks as she was wont to do —The skylark, taken by surprise As we ourselves, shall recognise Sudden the end. For suddenly It comes; the dreadfulness must be In that; all warrants the belief— “At night it cometh like a thief,” I fancy why the trumpet blows; —Plainly, to wake one. From repose We shall start up, at last awake From life, that insane dream we take For waking now.

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The next stanza gives the famous description of the fiery aurora, when even “the south firmament with north-fire did its wings refledge!” (Compare description of lunar rainbow in “Christmas-Eve.”) He feels sure that his wish is realized, and the Judgment Day has come!