The devil is on His throne
Dark and grey from such a day,
Stood he there upon his door;
His heart trembled and his knees buckled,
At once falling to the floor.
Kneeled he there in dread,
As though destined to be a servant;
His spirit, cold and dead
As though he were forsaken.
His eyes hung low, his soul yet lower
As if he’d killed another;
For still to him it seemed he had,
He had killed himself, no other.
In a prayer of desperation,
Tried, tried, and tired;
Kneeled he there upon his bed,
With this prayer to expire:
“I’ve heard upon my ear,
Of tales that taunt men’s fear;
And felt upon my breast,
The terror of your tests.
Of you I’ve heard of wonders,
Stories of old that rouse this heart;
And I’ve heard the things you’ve said,
So to you, I now impart.
That I should come
For this request:
To find relief
For my belief:
That condemned now here I stand,
Confined as to the sand;
To sink as though so burdened,
Heavy laden as I am.
For it is you that I should cling,
That relief you might bring;
But it is I that I have clung
And in me, all of hell has come to spring.”
And the man began to weep,
Hoping to find such kind relief;
And in a voice, in a vision
He thought that he was heard.
For seemed he then to hear,
A faint bell that seemed to ring;
An ancient voice it caused to spring,
This faint bell he heard to ring.
These high words began to ring:
“My son,
I hear you; I know you,
And the tears that you have sown,
Shall be an answer you shall reap.
But tell me this,
Thou who thinks to pray to me,
Whether relief or laughter you should find,
In praying such to me.
Is it not I who has said,
Thou be perfect as I am?
And is it not I who has seen,
The imperfections that you bring?”
And the man trembled,
Though still hoping relief he’d bring;
Until he he heard such words retire
Such words, terrible and dire.
These low words began to ring:
“Lo and listen, linger longer
And to me your righteous father
Answer me your rightful answers
Linger, linger longer.
Is it not I who has cared thee,
Sheltered thee with my arm,
Covered you under my wings,
Though in vileness you here bring?
Can dust from the earth exist on the Sun,
Or can a man enter a wedding with garments tainted dark and grey?
So tell me how you expect,
Born from dust, yea a mother,
That you think yourself correct,
To beseech me as another.”
And the man trembled,
Wishing he could forsake himself;
Wishing, wishing to find relief;
He said not a thing, when the bell began to ring.
These base words began to ring:
“Lo and listen, linger longer
And to me your righteous father
Answer me your rightful answers
Linger, linger longer.
Should I kill the son of David,
For his wickedness with Bathsheba,
For his incontinence with Uriah
Kill his children; kill his kin?
Or is two hundred men too much,
That Sheol they embrace,
And with Korah sit,
In the stomach of disgrace?
But who asks “how” or “why”,
A single man or men, two hundred;
For justice demands a price,
For men unjust and wicked.
Can mortal man be right,
In the sight before His God?
Can a man be pure or stand so sure,
As though not clay before his Maker?
Even my servants have no trust,
And my angels charged with error;
How much more as it were,
Those whose foundation is the dust?”
The man with no tears left to weep,
Sought to stand, to run, to leave;
But the devil on His throne,
entreated him once more.
These hellish words began to sing:
“Lo and listen, linger longer
And to me your righteous father
Answer me your rightful answers
Linger, linger longer.
Why to me incline,
An ear without much fear;
Or seek to find relief,
And hope to lose your grief?
For know that I am holy,
And you are but a man;
And know that I am holy,
And you are in my hand.
For it is me that you should cling,
That all of heaven might still spring;
Yet never something holy did you ever come to bring,
So nevermore again; only hell shall I now bring.”
Upon this the man trembled,
Till at last it seized his heart;
And he lay there in part:
His body on the floor, his spirit to depart.
Amid thoughts from visions of the night,
When deep sleep falls on men;
Words brought stealthily to sight,
From God to the hearts of men so sent.
But sometimes, like a shadow,
Untold and not understood;
Quickly, and fiercely, come
Words from hell as though from Heaven sent.
And should the man ascend above,
And see the throne of God above;
He’d see not God; he’d see not Love,
But see a terror; a tragedy above.
Yes he’d prayed, and prayed above,
But not to God, no not to God.
The devil is on His throne,
And he had never known.
But God was in His chest; at his breast
Whispering love with blood stained lips;
In his chest, to his heart
Whispering in love, “I shall never depart.”