The Wreck of the Deuschtland, Stanzas 11-16
"Some find me a sword; some
The flange and the rail; flame,
Fang, or flood" goes Death on drum,
And storms bugle his fame.
But wé dréam we are rooted in earth—Dust!
Flesh falls within sight of us, we, though our flower the same,
Wave with the meadow, forget that there must
The sour scythe cringe, and the blear share come.
On Saturday sailed from Bremen,
American-outward-bound,
Take settler and seamen, tell men with women,
Two hundred souls in the round—
O Father, not under thy feathers nor ever as guessing
The goal was a shoal, of a fourth the doom to be drowned;
Yet did the dark side of the bay of thy blessing
Not vault them, the million of rounds of thy mercy not reeve even them in?
Into the snows she sweeps,
Hurling the haven behind,
The Deutschland, on Sunday; and so the sky keeps,
For the infinite air is unkind,
And the sea flint-flake, black-backed in the regular blow,
Sitting Eastnortheast, in cursed quarter, the wind;
Wiry and white-fiery and whirlwind-swivellèd snow
Spins to the widow-making unchilding unfathering deeps.
She drove in the dark to leeward,
She struck—not a reef or a rock
But the combs of a smother of sand: night drew her
Dead to the Kentish Knock;
And she beat the bank down with her bows and the ride of her keel:
The breakers rolled on her beam with ruinous shock;
And canvass and compass, the whorl and the wheel
Idle for ever to waft her or wind her with, these she endured.
Hope had grown grey hairs,
Hope had mourning on,
Trenched with tears, carved with cares,
Hope was twelve hours gone;
And frightful a nightfall folded rueful a day
Nor rescue, only rocket and lightship, shone,
And lives at last were washing away:
To the shrouds they took,—they shook in the hurling and horrible airs.
One stirred from the rigging to save
The wild woman-kind below,
With a rope's end round the man, handy and brave—
He was pitched to his death at a blow,
For all his dreadnought breast and braids of thew:
They could tell him for hours, dandled the to and fro
Through the cobbled foam-fleece, what could he do
With the burl of the fountains of air, buck and the flood of the wave?
Last week, we talked about the redeeming aspect of suffering- our call to be sharers in Christ’s suffering when we experience our own. This role as sharer is a choice, the same way entering into relationship with God is a choice. We are invited, never forced, to embrace “the glory that is hidden in the very suffering of Christ” (Salvifici Doloris 26). It is a call, a vocation.
This choice is what Hopkins contemplates in this week’s stanzas. Through his words, he highlights the hopelessness that must have taken place among those aboard the ship during the ghastly storm. This is most seen in his description of the man who tries to save a woman, but his heroic action ends in death.
Death on drum, and storms bugle his fame… trenched with tears… what could he do?
In every form of suffering, there is a temptation to despair. Amidst pain, hope seems to grow grey hairs. Sometimes it feels like suffering was forced upon us; but there is still a choice within the pain. We must decide if we are going to turn to God or fall into despair. I for one find myself feeling my weakness more than ever amidst seasons of trial, but St. John Paul II explains that there is a “birth of power in weakness.” When we accept the call as sharer in Christ’s suffering, “the weakness of man” becomes “the power of God” (Salvifici Doloris 27). The tides shift within us, which we will be diving into more next week.
There are many ways that suffering manifests, both in large and small ways. Have you felt suffering today? The choice is yours: do you despair, or let God’s power overtake you?
Ah, the beautiful gift of free will. Yes, we have a choice! "Fight" the suffering and fall into despair or accept God's invitation to join in with His son's suffering.
I love this line:
We are invited, never forced, to embrace “the glory that is hidden in the very suffering of Christ” (Salvifici Doloris 26). It is a call, a vocation.
Lord, help us to hear the call and follow the path to hidden glory.