Why Have You Come?
- July 28, 2017
- 75th anniversary
- Bible Translation
Originally published in the 1955 issue of “Translation” magazine, this poem by William Atherton captures the emotions of a Bible translator and his relationship with a local man who wants to know why the translator has come.
- Low burned the candle in the room
- As o’er the table bent the scribe,
- Intently working on a book,
- In language strange — a pagan tribe.
- But now a stranger entered in.
- The writer rose to greet his guest,
- And after usual pleasantries,
- The stranger said with marked int’rest,
- “Pray tell me, friend, just why it is
- You’ve left your home and friends and land
- To journey to this far-off place
- Of mountains, jungles, rocks and sand
- To live among a people strange,
- Whose ways and words are stranger still.
- These things I cannot understand,
- Nor think I that I ever will.
- Each day, along with daily food,
- You get your share of sneers and jeers;
- You’re ridiculed, misunderstood,
- And oftentimes reduced to tears.
- “And these things my own eyes behold —
- I little know your soul’s deep pains
- Occasioned by a thousandfold
- Daily troubles, hurts and strains,
- And you, I fear, would have to say,
- (If all the truth would really out),
- That numbered up among your foes
- Are cruel discouragement and doubt.
- “Now, even I plainly see
- That fame or gain is not your goal;
- Their paths are far from here.”
- He smiled. The thought seemed somewhat droll.
- “And midst it all, with single eye,
- You hourly, daily toil away
- On that strange book on yonder desk.
- Why then or why is this, I say?”
- The stranger ceased. He’d had his say.
- He settled back for the reply.
- The scribe, with mounting pleasure, said:
- “Good friend, I’ll gladly tell you why.
- ‘Tis true, ‘tis true, each word you’ve said.
- And more, much more than that beside;
- But ere I traveled to this place,
- I knew that oft I would be tried —
- (Though I’ll confess I never dreamt
- The Master’s lessons were so steep
- That I scarce knew the alphabet.
- E’en now the thought fair makes me weep).
- But, as I say, your words are true,
- And there’s no use them to deny.
- Nor to refute, nor answer back;
- I understand the ‘what and why.’
- But to your questions let us turn.”
- At this with loving hands he took
- His work from off the desk and said:
- “The answer’s found right here — this Book.
- Look! Look! Here’s the Word of Life,
- No longer in a foreign tongue,
- But in the old familiar words
- Used by these people old and young.
- So jests, or sneers, or rage mean
- Nought when daily grows this sacred Tome.
- Each line, each page so richly wrought
- With golden threads of help from home.
- And you must know that for each foe,
- Ten friends have I my heart to cheer,
- And prayer and love from them rise up
- To guard my soul from pain and fear.
- “And best of all, my Saviour’s here —
- Companion on life’s rugged way.
- So ‘tis no wonder, my dear friend,
- That I am willing here to stay.
- “Then, some day, when this Book’s complete,
- I’ll bring it as an offering,
- As when the wise men came of old
- And paid to him their homage deep,
- With rich, rare gifts; and shepherds too,
- In awesome reverence brought a sheep.
- I know not how those gifts were used.
- Nor do I ask. Our King is wise;
- And each gift finds its proper use
- To lead men to the heavenly prize.
- “And so ‘twill be with this, my gift.
- He’ll take it, bless it, give it wings
- To reach and make these far-off folk
- Glad subjects of the King of Kings.
- Then I will sing on the glad day,
- When round His Throne the saints do stand;
- For I will greet those who rejoiced
- To have this Book placed in their hand.”
- The weary lines which etched his face,
- To happiness had given place,
- And ere the scribe had stopped his speech,
- Bright tears of joy, streamed down his face.
- The candle glowed, the room grew still.
- The stranger rose and clasped his hand.
- “My thanks, kind friend, for telling me.
- The Book! God’s Book! I understand!”
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