"Receive thy sight! / 'Tis said, 'tis done, a thick and churlish skin / Which stop'd the windows of his Soul within, / Flew off."
— Wesley, Samuel, The Elder (bap. 1662, d. 1735)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for Charles Harper ... and Benj. Motte [etc.]
Date
1693
Metaphor
"Receive thy sight! / 'Tis said, 'tis done, a thick and churlish skin / Which stop'd the windows of his Soul within, / Flew off."
Metaphor in Context
In vain I all his Wonders wou'd relate,
How many rescu'd from the brink of Fate:
How with a Touch he Simon's Mother rais'd:
How him the joyful Paralytic prais'd:
How, Jairus! thy Daughter he restor'd;
Tho' dead she heard, tho' dead obey'd his Word.
What Virtues e'en his sacred Robes diffus'd;
How by th' ungrateful Nazarites abus'd
He vanish'd thro' the crowd, they beat the Air,
Nor ever since his Presence blest 'em there.
What wond'rous Truths he did the Woman tell
In curst Samaria's Fields by Jacob's Well:
How many long of their dear sight bereav'd,
Earthly and Heav'nly Light at once receiv'd:
This all Bethsaida's wond'ring confines know,
And this thy Gates, delightful Jericho!
E'en yet old Bartimeus lives, who there[5]
Did many a doleful year in darkness wear;
To which yet still a heavier plague was joyn'd,
He's miserably poor, e'en worse than blind:
His head with reverend baldness doubly bare,
Expos'd to all th' Inclemencies oth' Air,
To heat and cold--Methinks I see him there!
Or in the Gate I see him begging lie,
Or at the lovely Balsom-Gardens nigh:
Once as it chanc'd our Master passing by
Vast multitudes attending, he admir'd
The Cause, and earnest what it meant enquir'd,
For he their noise and trampling feet cou'd hear,
And well he knew some mighty Concourse near:
Nor sooner to the Blind was Jesus nam'd
But he with Faith and holy Hope enflam'd,
(For oft he heard what Miracles he'd done)
Exclaims--O mercy! mercy! David's Son!
Some bid be still! some cry to take him thence,
Nor let him with his loud Impertinence
Disturb our Lord, nor will he yet give o'er,
But cries more loud and earnest than before,
Great Son of David! let me mercy find!
O shew thy wonted pity on the Blind!
--None e'er deny'd or sad from Jesus part,
His earnest Pray'rs soon reach'd his ears and heart,
And till he's call'd he wou'd no further go;
Soon did th' old man the joyful Tidings know
From those about him, soon he cheerful rose,
Away his Staff and ragged Garment throws;
His Garment lest it might impeach his speed,
His Staff, which he shou'd now no longer need:
Away he runs, nor for a guide wou'd stay,
Following the Voice, oft stumbling in the way,
Of whom when near arriv'd, our Lord inquir'd
What Boon with such loud outcries he desir'd?
Lord! thou canst do't, he with large Tears replies,
And thou alone, restore me my dear eyes!
--'Tis thy victorious Faith directs thee right,
Well pleas'd our Lord rejoyns,--Receive thy sight!
'Tis said, 'tis done, a thick and churlish skin
Which stop'd the windows of his Soul within,
Flew off, nor did he ought that's painful find,
Like Cobwebs loose, unravel'd with the Wind,
He saw, his Saviour with loud Thanks did meet,
Embrac'd his knees, and prostrate kiss'd his feet.
How many rescu'd from the brink of Fate:
How with a Touch he Simon's Mother rais'd:
How him the joyful Paralytic prais'd:
How, Jairus! thy Daughter he restor'd;
Tho' dead she heard, tho' dead obey'd his Word.
What Virtues e'en his sacred Robes diffus'd;
How by th' ungrateful Nazarites abus'd
He vanish'd thro' the crowd, they beat the Air,
Nor ever since his Presence blest 'em there.
What wond'rous Truths he did the Woman tell
In curst Samaria's Fields by Jacob's Well:
How many long of their dear sight bereav'd,
Earthly and Heav'nly Light at once receiv'd:
This all Bethsaida's wond'ring confines know,
And this thy Gates, delightful Jericho!
E'en yet old Bartimeus lives, who there[5]
Did many a doleful year in darkness wear;
To which yet still a heavier plague was joyn'd,
He's miserably poor, e'en worse than blind:
His head with reverend baldness doubly bare,
Expos'd to all th' Inclemencies oth' Air,
To heat and cold--Methinks I see him there!
Or in the Gate I see him begging lie,
Or at the lovely Balsom-Gardens nigh:
Once as it chanc'd our Master passing by
Vast multitudes attending, he admir'd
The Cause, and earnest what it meant enquir'd,
For he their noise and trampling feet cou'd hear,
And well he knew some mighty Concourse near:
Nor sooner to the Blind was Jesus nam'd
But he with Faith and holy Hope enflam'd,
(For oft he heard what Miracles he'd done)
Exclaims--O mercy! mercy! David's Son!
Some bid be still! some cry to take him thence,
Nor let him with his loud Impertinence
Disturb our Lord, nor will he yet give o'er,
But cries more loud and earnest than before,
Great Son of David! let me mercy find!
O shew thy wonted pity on the Blind!
--None e'er deny'd or sad from Jesus part,
His earnest Pray'rs soon reach'd his ears and heart,
And till he's call'd he wou'd no further go;
Soon did th' old man the joyful Tidings know
From those about him, soon he cheerful rose,
Away his Staff and ragged Garment throws;
His Garment lest it might impeach his speed,
His Staff, which he shou'd now no longer need:
Away he runs, nor for a guide wou'd stay,
Following the Voice, oft stumbling in the way,
Of whom when near arriv'd, our Lord inquir'd
What Boon with such loud outcries he desir'd?
Lord! thou canst do't, he with large Tears replies,
And thou alone, restore me my dear eyes!
--'Tis thy victorious Faith directs thee right,
Well pleas'd our Lord rejoyns,--Receive thy sight!
'Tis said, 'tis done, a thick and churlish skin
Which stop'd the windows of his Soul within,
Flew off, nor did he ought that's painful find,
Like Cobwebs loose, unravel'd with the Wind,
He saw, his Saviour with loud Thanks did meet,
Embrac'd his knees, and prostrate kiss'd his feet.
Categories
Provenance
Found again searching "soul" and "window" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Samuel Wesley, The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ. An Heroic Poem: Dedicated to Her Most Sacred Majesty. In Ten Books. Attempted by Samuel Wesley ... Each Book illustrated by necessary Notes, explaining all the more difficult Matters in the whole History: Also a Prefatory Discourse concerning Heroic Poetry. With Sixty Copper-Plates (London: Printed for Charles Harper ... and Benj. Motte, 1693).
Date of Entry
01/25/2006
Date of Review
06/28/2011
