The Way: A Hymn of Holiness

There is a Day

Dark-dawned, devoted to destruction

Fear and terror rising in it thick as mist on the hills 

A sharp sword glutted with blood, drinking its fill in the heavens

Where is the bright maiden, the proud youth, their canticle?

They are laid waste, and their bower is broken 

Their song is choked into silence

Their joyful strength for the first time has failed them

Their beauty is wracked into grief-throes

The smoke of their ruin is rising 

Rising, never to return

Gone is the world they fashioned

The rows of savagely glinting mirrors

Ringed about them, calling out one to another:

“Alas, Babylon

For in a single hour your judgment has come”

And graven deep in their silent shards of witness

A name is writ on her forehead:

Mystery

So silent comes to an end her Day of evil rejoicing

Drunk with the blood of the saints

The blood of the martyrs of Jesus

Arrayed in purple, seated on many waters

And fallen, fallen is she in the darkness.

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There is a Way

Narrow it is, and with deep trials

Breaking forth as water in the wilderness 

Streams in the desert unbidden

Where had been the haunt of the jackals 

A slow trickle of weary pilgrims 

Heart-riven with unutterable sadness 

Assailed—but not forsaken

Cast down—but not destroyed

Bearing about in their bodies the dying of Jesus 

His death working in them the living of others 

And an Highway shall be there before them

Called the Way of Holiness

No unclean shall ever pass over 

But its steps shall belong to His People

No lion shall enter upon it

Nor ravenous beast be found there 

But the redeemed shall walk on its flagstones

Well-worn by the faithful of Zion:

“See brothers, here Christ wept by the Garden

Here sisters, Rachel cried out for her children 

Here Stephen was vouchsafed a vision

Here the Magdalene found risen Whom her heart loved 

Here Simeon held in his arms the Sign for his people

Here John caught sight of the Coming

Here Isaiah was touched by the Burning 

Here Moses was welcomed into the Promise

Here Abraham’s Atonement was offered

Here Malachi’s Sun rose with wing-healing

Here the blessed Lord Jesus was lifted up from the earth  

To draw all men to His glory”

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Are they alone, these destitute, these sorrowing?

Walking the slow and the painful way

Through a world mocking, not worthy of them

Surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses?

Nay, but they are passing from glory to glory 

They have come to Mount Zion, City of the God alive

A blazing fire and untouchable holiness 

Innumerable angels, the dreadful sound of the trumpet 

The Voice of their Lover, Brother, Shepherd, Friend

Calling them onward, through fire and water:

“Bring with you the sheaves for the Harvest 

For His sickle is in His hand, and the Hour is coming 

The Hour of darkness is coming, when no man may work

And fire will test the foundations”

In fear of the Lord, and in raw humility 

They pass along the Way as they praise Him

Eyes fixed on the sufferings of Jesus

Awaiting that white stone He will give them

A new name written on it, a now-veiled vision

Of the joy of gladness forever 

Terrible as an army with banners,

A light in her eyes for her Bridegroom,

She labors to spend and to be spent

To pour out her life a sweet fragrance 

And soon, by the Word of the Spirit,

She will lift up her face in an instant 

To catch sight of the One whom her heart loves

And be caught up in the joy of His presence 

To enter her glorious Lord’s rest 

Without spot or blemish, forever 

Just and true are Your Ways, O nation-King

The Tent of the Witness shall open

Death be devoured in Life’s triumph

And the dawn of a mighty Morning break over them

Come quickly, Lord Jesus, we praise You

Amen and Amen.

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Jeremy Vogan, October 2024

Based on Isaiah 35