The Potter and the Clay: A poem by S.J. Fisher

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Writing for the Herald and Presbyter over a century ago, African-American Presbyterian poet and preacher Samuel Jackson Fisher contributed a Pauline (echoing Rom. 9:21) composition worthy of highlighting today.

Fisher, Samuel Jackson, The Potter and the Clay Title Page.jpg

Coarse is the clay in the hands of the potter,
Clay often trodden by beast or by man;
Yet on his wheel he molds it to beauty,
Shaping it lovely by skill to his plan.
Then with the charm of the great artist's power,
Slender the vase — completed by fire —
Stands in its loveliness, exquisite, pure;
But the clay is forgot in the vase we admire.

Out of the sand from the pits of the hillside,
Swept by the tempest and drenched by the rain
Man can create the goblet so precious
Or mirror for beauty to answer again.
The pebbles we crush in our footsteps so careless
Genius can change into lenses of light.
Who will consider, when stars grow the clearer
The sand which has given the visions so bright?

Rude are the souls born in slavery's shadow,
Dull the black faces unlighted by God,
Clay from the meadow and sand from the desert,
Image of lives long by earth's passions trod.
Truth is the potter and love is the fire,
Changing the beastlike to beauty and grace,
Souls made translucent, or polished like brass,
Fitted for heaven, reflecting God's face.

Fisher's Blind Milton

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Great art often begets more great art. Creation itself, that wonderful theater of God’s glory (a term used by John Calvin), of course, has inspired many scenic paintings. The poetry of the Bible has inspired poets for millennia. And the story of the fall of man in the Garden of Eden inspired John Milton to compose the epic poem Paradise Lost (1667), which he did while blind, dictating the lines to a group of amanuenses, including his own daughters. This historical fact, in turn, has inspired a number of painters to capture that moment, including Mihály Munkácsy’s Blind Milton Dictating Paradise Lost to his Daughters (1878).

Blind Milton Dictating Paradise Lost to His Daughters.jpg

This remarkable visionary work of art in turn inspired African-American Presbyterian minister and poet Samuel Jackson Fisher. In his volume of poetry titled The Romance of Pittsburgh or Under Three Flags, and Other Poems, there is one composition which pays tribute to both Munkácsy and Milton. And that is today’s verse for consideration.

MILTON DICTATING PARADISE LOST AND HIS DAUGHTER
(Munkacsy's Picture)

Blind are his eyes, yet can his great soul gaze
Through the past ages to the far-off days;
He sits in darkness, 'mid the present world.
Yet sees God's throne, and Satan downward hurled.
His the rapt vision of man's blessedness.
Of wedded love, life's crown of happiness;
The toil so sweet, the life without a fear,
Days without weariness, and eyes without a tear.
And as he sings of that lost Paradise
His face illumed as glorious visions rise.
She who would pen this bright, celestial story
Forgets her task amid that vanished glory;
Listening to him whom thoughts divine inspire,
She dreams of Eden and the sword of fire.

Oh, happy eyes! though closed to this world's light,
Yet gaining thus the higher, heavenly sight.
Teach us the power, when in life's darkened room,
To look beyond the anguish and the gloom:
Like thee, to fill the soul with visions blest.
And seeing God, upon His Word to rest;
Help us to see, though joys be here denied,
The Paradise where hearts are satisfied

The last two lines echo as a meditation and a prayer for us today:

Help us to see, though joys be here denied,
The Paradise where hearts are satisfied

The vision of Blind Milton begat the vision Munkácsy, which begat the vision of Fisher. May we enter into that vision to behold, by faith in Jesus Christ, Paradise through this vale of tears.

S.J. Fisher: "Within is More!"

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Today’s post comes in the form of a meditation by African-American pastor and poet Samuel Jackson Fisher (1847-1928) found in The Romance of Pittsburgh or Under Three Flags, and Other Poems.

“Within is More!”

In famous Bruges — quaint old Flemish town —
On which the lofty belfry tower looks down,
There stands with fair and stately front a house
Whose legend ever must the thought arouse,
For this strange motto long it proudly bore,
Carved on its doorway beam: “Within is more;”
And he who reads it feels this cryptic word
His eager questioning has deeply stirred.

Yet may we not to this strange mystery
Find at our hand the long-sought key?
Fair is the front — without it charms the eye —
But home’s great charm and treasure inside lie.
No outside gaze can measure all the store
Of joys so hidden, for “Within is more.”

And so I love to think as to our eyes
The golden walls and domes of Heaven arise;
Tho’ fair is all now seen, and blest the view,
That still for us the ancient words are true.
And when in Love’s good time we pass the door,
Entranced we shall confess, “Within is more.”

S.J. Fisher on The Starry Heavens

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It has been wondered aloud “How could any astronomer be an atheist?” John Calvin once wrote that “Job's intent here is to teach us to be astronomers” (Commentary on Job 9). He also famously quoted Ovid who said, “While other animals look downwards towards the earth, he gave to man a lofty face, and bade him look at heaven, and lift up his countenance erect towards the stars” (Ovid, Metamorphoses 1; Institutes 1.15.3).

The starry sky does indeed declare the glory of God (Ps. 19:1). A poem by Samuel Jackson Fisher (found in The Romance of Pittsburgh or Under Three Flags, and Other Poems) reminds us of this. So does the ongoing August Perseid meteor shower.

THE STARRY HEAVENS

When I consider Thy Heavens, O Lord!
Those wondrous skies where stream afar
The light of countless suns and worlds.
The rays of blazing moon and star,
The sight of all Thy power hath wrought
O'erwhelms my mind and stifles thought.

When I consider Thy Heavens, O Lord!
And think how through the ages gone,
While myriad souls have lived and died,
These worlds unchanged have nightly shone;
At such a vision of the skies,
Despair is strong, and fond hope dies.

When I consider Thy Heavens, O Lord!
Oh! What is man 'mid scenes so vast!
An insect on the torrent's foam,
A leaf upon the highway cast,
A grain of sand upon the shore,
Forgotten in the ocean's roar.

When I consider Thy Heavens, O Lord!
My heart finds there the glorious sign
Of all Thy Wisdom, Power and Love
Which makes the Life Eternal mine.
The stars no longer teach despair,
My Father's hand has placed them there!

When I consider Thy Heavens, O Lord!
I see a power naught can resist,
A hand divine. Thy might, O Lord,
Which loves Thy children to assist.
Thou, Who didst set the Pleiades,
Will do for me far more than these.

When I consider Thy Heavens, O Lord!
I know that these shall pass away.
For Thou shalt roll them like a scroll.
But Thy true Word shall meet that day;
And in the tempest of that fire
All but Thy promise shall expire.

When I consider Thy Heavens, O Lord!
So radiant in the midnight air,
I hear a whisper: "Fear no more.
Around you is a greater care;
For He Who set those stars aflame
Has called you by His children's name."

John Calvin's Grave: A poem by Samuel J. Fisher

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Samuel Jackson Fisher (1847-1928) was a leading African-American Presbyterian minister in his day, who served as the pastor of the Swissvale Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania for 35 years; served as a long-time member of the faculty of Chatham University (then known as the Pennsylvania College for Women; served as President of the Presbyterian Board of Missions to the Freedmen; and who authored many articles, as well as a volume of poetry dedicated to his deceased wife: The Romance of Pittsburgh or Under Three Flags, and Other Poems. We have extracted here one poem which is especially noteworthy; a tribute to the great Reformer who was buried in Geneva, Switzerland, in an unmarked grave.

John Calvin’s Grave

In fair Geneva, near the arrowy Rhone,
John Calvin sleeps,—his grave without a stone.
Unmarked, unknown, yet near the busy street
Which echoed often to his hurrying feet.
While far away he saw those peaks of snow,
The Alps, so radiant in the sunset glow.
And watched Mt. Blanc's upsoaring dome,
Like some huge billow with its crest of foam,
Fit type of him, whose vast majestic mind
In moral grandeur towers o'er mankind.
Around that peak the tempests whirl and lower
And crackling lightnings blaze in hateful power,
Yet pass, and leave it stainless, strong and pure.
So from his foes his fame emerged secure;
And tho' against his work fierce hatred ranged.
Unmoved he stood, in power and aim unchanged.
Frail was his body, and, though racked with pain.
On, on he toiled, ne'er pausing to complain.
Strong were his friendships, pure his love and home;
Christ filled his heart, and not foul passion's foam.
No fear of Pope, — no dread of earthly kings
Turned his calm eyes from truth and heavenly things.
Humbled he spoke of God's wide sovereignty.
Yet taught the lowliest peasant to be free;
And while he bowed before God's boundless plan.
To souls oppressed he taught the rights of man.

Oh, clear-eyed student of the Holy Word,
Thy plea for freedom tyrants trembling heard!
Oh, wide-browed thinker of God's lofty thought,
What growth of nations have thy strong words wrought!
Thine was the task to magnify God's laws.
And trace for each event its first and only cause,
Breaking man's pride by views of God's control,
Yet sure God's child was every human soul.
And he who knelt most humbly to his God,
Secure in faith could walk unblanched abroad.
Thy words made gentle women fear no shame,
They nerved the martyr to await the flame.
From heart to heart they passed around the world,
Till kings were faced, or from their thrones were hurled.
Rest, noble Calvin, take thy well-earned sleep.
Thy fame far time shall undiminished keep.
In that low grave thy fragile body lies,
But God has writ thy name across the skies!