The Joseph Cycle

Less than a month since Joseph stood 
Beside the open cave, and would 
Not let his brothers close it, till 
The rising sun could once more fill 
The cavern with a golden light, 
That brought a hopeful end to night, 
And kept him through his prison stay, 
Awaiting God’s appointed day. 
He loved the light.  
        But now the grief 
That Joseph felt found no relief 
When he returned to Goshen. There 
Aflame with fever lay the fair 
And fragile woman he had wed 
When he was thirty-one and dread 
Of his dream-powers was upon  
The royal court, and priests of On 
Were fawning at his feet. Her name 
Was Asenath, and when she came 
To Joseph as a favor from  
The king, her father had become 
The leading advocate in all 
Of Egypt for the blazing ball 
We call the sun, and held in sway  
The people for a god called Reh, 
The deity of dawn. But she  
Would not bow down. “Idolatry,” 
She said, “is loving anything 
Above the God whose pow’r did bring 
The sun and moon and all the earth 
To be, or to ascribe more worth 
To what he made, than what he is. 
The heart of Asenath is his.” 
Now five and twenty years these two 
Have loved their God as one, till through 
A common passion they have come 
To cherish this: that marriage, from 
The first embrace, is but the small 
And faulty echo of a thrall 
And union high above this bent 
Old parable of what is meant 
By God’s allegiance to his own. 

This night his sons could hear him groan 
From where he knelt beside the bed 
Of Asenath. And when he spread 
His arms full length along the frame  
Of her damp sheets, and said her name, 
She stirred with life, and wakened from 
Her sleep. “I’m glad that you have come,” 
She said. “We hadn’t kissed good bye. 
Besides, I need your help to die.” 
“I need your help to live,” he said. 
She smiled. “No other man has fed 
More deeply on the providence  
Of God than you, nor seen events 
Turn in the hand of God from bad 
To good, the way you have. One sad 
And painful season followed by 
Another one, and yet the high 
Designs of God, in time, revealed. 
O Joseph, if my soul is to be sealed 
For God, and faith sustained tonight, 
I need to see some glimpse of bright 
And hopeful purposes that go 
Beyond what man can do. I know 
That God is good and wise and strong. 
But O how every painful wrong, 
Is like an arrow at my soul. 
And I begin to doubt the whole 
Design of God, and that the pain 
And loss will really turn to gain. 
I need you, Joseph, this is why. 
Now speak the truth and help me die.” 

He looked at her in wonder, then 
Across the little room at Ben 
And Judah, keeping vigil all 
Night long, then said, “Do you recall 
I told you once, long time ago, 
About my sister?” “Yes, I know 
You loved her very much.” “When I  
Left home, she lay with fever by 
Her mother Leah just the way 
You lie by me tonight. They say 
She died the day I left. Do you 
Know what her mother said in view 
Of Dinah’s nearing death? She said – 
And mind you, we both knew she’s dead – 
She smiled and said, ‘She’ll be all right.’ 
She meant it, Asenath. Despite 
The fever and the death, she meant 
That she would be all right. I spent 
Some two and twenty years before 
I understood. But now, far more 
Than any earthly hope, I hold  
Unwavering to this, and bold 
I whisper, Asenath: death does 
Not have the final word, nor was 
The promise Leah made absurd.” 
She gripped his hand and said, “I’ve heard 
You say this many times, and I 
Would love to know before I die 
How, Joseph, you became so sure 
That this is true. It is no cure 
For doubt, to simply give the sense 
Of promises. One needs defense 
And warrant in the flood of claims 
That swamps the dying soul, and shames 
What little thought remains.”  
       “I’ll tell 
You, Asenath. And, Lord, dispel 
By this the doubt that battles for 
The soul of my dear wife. God swore 
To me, by doubling my dream, 
That all my brothers would esteem 
Me as a prince, and bow before  
Me to the ground. But even more: 
Not just eleven stars bow down, 
But also sun and moon. The crown 
Of Joseph would be honored by 
His father and (mark this, and try 
To understand) his mother, who 
Had died ten years before. How do 
You think God meant for Rachel to 
Bow down when she was dead? I knew 
From that day on that more was meant  
By my small dreams than the intent 
My brothers saw.  
         At thirty God 
Put in my hand the ruling rod 
Of Egypt. Pharaoh dreamed, like me, 
A doubled dream, fixed by decree. 
And Providence designed that I, 
In jail, should be remembered by 
A former prisoner, and brought 
Before the king. And there God wrought 
A wonder, and I saw the years 
To come, the cattle and the ears 
Of corn, some fat, some blighted by  
The heat. And for my work, the high 
And lofty king of Egypt gave  
To me a crown with which to save, 
All unbeknown to him and me, 
My rich and desperate family.  
Then nine years later all the dreams,  
Came true, except for this, it seems: 
My mother did not come. The moon 
Did not bow down. Does this impugn 
The prophecy?” He paused to see 
If Asenath were listening. “Could be,” 
She said, “that God meant Leah by 
The moon, not Rachel.” “Good eye, 
Dear Asenath, except she died 
In Canaan. Just last week I spied  
The cave where Jacob buried her 
Before he came to Egypt. Were 
She then the moon, what would we see? 
The moon has not yet bowed to me.” 
“What do you make of that?” she said. 
“My mother will rise from the dead. 
And so will you, my love. And this 
Is warrant sure and solid bliss: 
No word of God will go unfilled. 
Death will not hinder what he’s willed. 
The moon will yet bow down to me, 
Or One whose type I’m meant to be. 
I saved a people here with grain, 
Another comes to take their pain. 
I rule with borrowed royalty, 
Another comes with dignity 
That’s all his own. The scepter will 
Belong to him, his kingdom fill 
The whole wide earth, and all that I 
Have been will point to him. And by 
A sovereign pow’r, he’ll keep his vow: 
The sun and stars and moon will bow. 
God is not Father of the dead, 
But of the living, as he said.” 

And as he looked into the eyes 
Of Asenath,  she died. “So flies 
Away my love as peacefully  
As doves at dawn which I now see 
Once more: the rising sun to fill 
The cavern with a golden light, 
That brings a hopeful end to night, 
And keeps me through my prison stay, 
Awaiting God’s appointed day. 
Farewell, sweet Asenath, good-bye; 
I hope that I have helped you die.” 

Then Joseph turned and saw the face  
Of Judah streaked with tears. “Free grace, 
My older brother, melts the heart. 
Not I nor you deserves the part 
We play. To me belongs the need 
For signs. To you belongs the seed. 
I bear the scepter to portend; 
Your son will bear it without end. 
I gave the saints the staff of bread, 
But he will raise them from the dead. 
Come, Judah, let us cease from strife 
You sold me, but God gave me life. 
Come fill your cup up to the brim, 
But let us both bow down to him. 

This is the light of candle four 
The end of death, the end of war. 
 

Part I 
Part II 
Part III 
Part IV 
 
Copyright  1997 John Piper 
Piper's Notes