Poem by Charles Walter Stansby Williams

Saint Matthias

I am Matthias; I am he who covers
The cloudy opening of the uttermost prison,
Where on went down - and is not re-arisen,-
Out of the Twelve who were the Lord Christ's lovers,
About my name upon this day there hovers
A rumour of despair and desolation;
And even the Holy City's glad salvation
Sighs for the memory of its exciled rovers.

I am Matthias, yea, and am another,
Installed within the bishopric of my brother;
I who am his oblivion am his fame.
I am the dream, upon your strife attending,
That all things, bound to a most perfect ending,
Shall be made one by Christ's invincible Name.

1. Bethlehem
2. The Adventures of the Holy Week
3. Pentecost
4. Hymn for Septuagesima Sunday
5. Christmas

Print

1296 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version