He hath climbed to pray.... A lamb he sees, Pawing gladly in the mountain-breeze, Very golden unto snow: Lamb of God, cross-aureoled, Lovely on His vertex bold, Set above a River’s gush and flow. By the brazen footstroke is expressed Impetus as of God’s River blest. Dew and snow in all their shine Round that heavenly Lamb and Stream Take the lustre of their dream, In a flood and blush of flame combine. On the heavens, from Patmos’ shore, John beheld this crystal sight before-- Not to bring a people aid; But, sweet Clement, thou hast seen, on earth God’s own Lamb, His River’s birth; How He shone and how its waters played! IN THE SEA (THE MARTYRDOM OF ST. CLEMENT) “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy! Save him, save!”-- “Father, receive my spirit from the wave.” Rolls the great Sea of the Chersonese Tossed and facing him and these.... Cold in waters, high in heap As a quarry should it sweep With a landslip down on men: And it roars as in its den Roars a monster apt for blood. He must journey on this flood To the harbour of his soul; He must seek his furthest goal, With an anchor round his neck, From yon tossing vessel’s deck Cast to drown, when out at sea Full three miles that ship may be. And his fellow-exiles cry, “Let him not, Lord Jesus, die!” On the clouds the vessel is a spot. “Lord Jesus, save him!... Is there not, O brothers, in the sea retreat-- Caught back, rolling from our feet, Not in waves, as under tide, But withdrawn on every side? Very solemn is this floor! We can see the waves no more. Let us follow them athwart Sea-deeps with no waters fraught; Let us wipe our tears away, Let us take this holy way! Large the floor and larger still: Must the whole horizon fill With a land of weed and shell, Where no billows native dwell Any more--we know not why: Any more, since we made cry?” As the sunset clears the sky, Yet across its wondrous space There is one transcendent place Where the sun is laid to rest: So these mourners, strangely blessed-- Over sand and coral clean And unbroken shells, serene, With the peace where sea hath been, Over panting sea-stars bright, Silver-raying fishes, mad For the livesome brine they had-- Come upon a Temple-grot, Set before them in a spot Of the naked desert, left By the ocean’s woof and weft Of the tidal streams withdrawn.