Darkness Comes

11 Feb 2023 | Church | 0 comments

What isolates me here in frozen clay

But that same tidal shock which fell

First upon England in your day?

Betrayal of the truth is no new thing

Within the fellowship of Christ, yet new

Was the cold glare whence alien ripples flashed….


The darkness comes as you foretold.

You  hear the fretful moan,

The alien winds that rave

As bitterly the grey truth breaks

On disillusioned Church and frantic world.

You see what form the judgement takes,

What harvest faithless generations reap:

The folds half empty, no clean pasture for the sheep;

Soil sterile where the liberal waters swirled

Which now have hardened into mud

Of festering ethic; fruitless hands grown chill

With their starved, pallid blood;

And the sky freezing still….


Jack Clemo (1916-94), The Broad Winter, (Dedicated to Charles Haddon Spurgeon)

Notes from the Compiler

Jack Clemo, 'The Map of Clay', London, Methuen, 1961, pp. 42-43. A Calvinist Cornish poet, who was deaf at 20 and nearly blind at 40, dedicated this verse to C.H. Spurgeon (1834-92), the Baptist minister of the Metropolitan Tabernacle in London which sat 6,000, until it burned down in 1898. He withdrew from the Baptist Union in 1887 because it took no action against those in the denomination accused of fundamental error.


Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *