"I shall see him, but not now:
I shall behold him, but not nigh:
there shall come a Star out of Jacob,
and a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel"
Balaam
A prophet, but not a willing one,
trembled on the mountain that overlooked their camp, and formed a curse--crafted it like a catapult to hurl destruction through their midst--confuse! inflict! terrify!
But when he spoke, no curse, just undiluted blessings, and they spewed forth in lavish power--clouds of goodness, future glories.
"Stop!" the furious king commanded.
"Can't you do any better?"
"I'll try.."
But from the hills in each direction
terrible blessings descended with his words.
and unsuspecting people in the valley
absorbed a mighty mist of strength and courage.
These things were pre-determined
He had no part of that, and only spoke the words he heard from heaven.
He boldly talked of wars and uttered conquering--blind eyes looking into a dark glass,
understanding stifled by the billowing clouds!
Veiled, veiled, veiled.
He spoke unwilling blessings and the night sky nodded
anticipating already the star-filled glory of that final and fantastic future day.
I shall see Him...but not now.
I shall behold Him...but not nigh.
Like Balaam I feel blinded by the shrouds of future mysteries,
And I tremble at what I cannot understand.
I seek the Star; I seek the Scepter, I bow my head.
That alone is clear!
