09/27/2020
“In the Garden of God”
by David C. Mitchell
from "The Songs of Ascents"
Fragrant and fair are the flowers in the garden of God.
Five ever-living redwoods there support the sky:
These are the books of Moses upholding the world.
A grove of yews makes fearsome bows;
The death-dealing books of Joshua and Judges.
There spread the cedars, fair in form and grace:
Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles with two houses of Lebanon.
There stand oaks of truth no wind can shake:
These are the great prophets.
There twelve poplars point up to the sky:
These are the minor prophets.
An arbour of jessamine and every healing herb,
Where one who sits is filled with wisdom’s store:
These are the proverbs of Solomon.
There is the quince, first bitter, later sweet:
This is Job, whose age surpassed his youth.
The little flowers appear on earth in spring:
This is the Song of Solomon.
There golden fields are ripe for harvest songs:
This is Ruth, ingathered from the nations.
There is the fragrant, starry myrtle bush:
Hidden Esther, appearing like the dawn.
Four sweet trees give life to all:
The gospels of the apple tree among the trees of the wood.
There is the olive tree, the fount of joy:
The Acts of the Apostles filled with the Holy Spirit.
The vine, whose blood makes glad the harvest feast:
This is the Apocalypse of John.
And there, amidst of all, five flower-beds:
The book of Psalms, all redolent with praises.
One bed is purple roses none dare touch:
These are the Psalms of David, the unconquerable king.
Then the fragrant Lily of the Valley,
Blooms in springtime like the risen dead:
These are the Psalms of the Sons of Korah.
The Rose of Sharon is red for blood and war:
These are the Psalms of Asaph, the mazkir.
The fourth bed holds the desert saxifrage:
The songs of the wilderness wanderings.
From fourth to fifth bed grow chrysanthemums,
Golden with their high and victory head:
Hallelujah psalms to hail the king.
And there, amidst the final flower bed,
Is crocus cancellatus.
Sprung from the Beloved Land,
It blooms at the autumnal Feast,
Fragrant, like the sacred oil,
Azure, like the robe of the ephod
Of Israel’s chief Kohen at hour of sacrifice.
Within the blue, its golden crown shines bright,
Like King Messiah on the lion throne,
Gazing east toward the smiling sun,
Upon Mount Zion in the glorious morn:
And these are the Songs of Ascents.
