Poems (Hoffman)/The Chambers of Imagery

4566997Poems — The Chambers of ImageryMartha Lavinia Hoffman
THE CHAMBERS OF IMAGERY

(Ezekiel 8:12.)

In the chambers of imagery the aged prophet stood,
And gazed upon the things unseen save by the eye of God.
From vision unto vision by the guiding Spirit led
He had looked on living beings that to all the world were dead;
He had listened to their voices, he had heard the gathering sound
Of their wings, whose mighty rushing filled the heavenly courts around.

And the voice of God had spoken hidden secrets to his ear,
While the heavens ablaze with jewels filled his soul with joy and fear.
Then from out the amber brightness the old prophet's soul was swept
To the dark and hidden chambers where the thoughts of men are kept.

In the chambers of imagery the aged prophet gropes—
Where are all his jeweled visions? Where are now his rainbow hopes?
Standing in the dark and dampness of those light-forsaken halls,
See him scan the forms ignoble pictured on the silent walls;
Forms of low and creeping reptiles that are hiding from the light—
Forms of beasts that crouch in cruel expectation of the night;
While without, the stars are gemming regal nature's azure crown.

Here are forms of soulless idols, where the souls of men bow down,
And the prophet hears, while standing in the dark more dense than night,
Voices whispering, "These are hidden from the Lord of life and light."

In the chambers of imagery, oh, the low and crawling things!
Here no ray of light can enter, here is heard no noise of wings;
Thoughts that hide like loathsome reptiles from the glory of the sun—
Unchained, beastly, cruel passions, living, breathing, every one;
And the things man stoops to worship, while his Maker is forgot,
Saying, "The Lord hath forsaken all the earth; he seeth not."
Fallen, lost, deluded, ruined, glorying in the dark and dearth,
Thinkest thou thy thoughts are hidden from the Lord of all the earth?

Open the chambers of imagery, each window toward the east;
Cast out the cruel reptile, drive forth the cruel beast,
Strike down the molten idol, hiding no sin from view;
Cry to the holy Artist, "Come and make all things new."
Then touched by the heavenly Master, the picture shall grow more fair—
The trees of the Lord's own planting, the birds of His upper air—
The stars that sing His praises on the darkest night shall shine
And the wall shall be all glorious, touched by His hand divine.
Then in all the beautiful pictures, no ravenous beast shall be,
And the glory of God shall lighten "the chambers of imagery."