d w&C") C\ DthbC Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2015 1 a r -j r// > r ' I ^ 3 lb!C ,> c _ Nl^f Cr/h https://archive.org/details/cathedralorcathoOOwill "tfkstj /^C4>v ^£ / £ s /£' 4»t^ 2?. aJa^ ■ \r\f * V * » : V •- V j &mtatU Y , di£k, / Gam, O ^ /g u» ** *- *> -m *, / *-r^ /^f , Ef)t ©atfjeiiral, OR THE CATHOLIC AND APOSTOLIC CHURCH IN ENGLAND. “ THE HOUSE OF GOD, WHICH IS THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD, THE PILLAR AND GROUND 0£ THE TRUTH.” 1 Tim. iii. 15 . Fourth Edition. OXFORD, JOHN HENRY PARKER: J. G. F. AND J. RIVINGTON, LONDON. MDCCCXLIII. OXFORD : PRINTED BY I. S1IRIMPTON. ADVERTISEMENT. The idea upon which this publication has been composed is, it is hoped, perfectly in accordance with the spirit and principles of the Ancient Church : nor is it entirely new to our own. Hints of the kind may be gained from Herbert’s “ Tem- ple,” where he attaches moral and sacred Lessons to the “Church windows” and “Church floor.” And it has been suggested by the Author of “ The Excursion,” in his Preface to that work, that his Poems might be considered as capable of being arranged as the parts of a Gothic Church, of which the minor Pieces might he “ likened to the little cells, oratories, and sepulchral recesses.” The present design has been to execute such a plan by a selection of subjects, more or less appro- priate to the parts which they are made to repre- sent, from the Liturgy, and the Doctrine and VI ADVERTISEMENT. Discipline of the Church ; care being taken to adhere as much as possible to the relative pro- portions of such a structure. The principle indeed of sacred associations of this nature comes to us with the very highest authority, by the constant use of it throughout the whole of Scripture, from the Tabernacle in the Wilderness, which served for an ‘‘example and shadow of heavenly things,” to the fuller applica- tion and extensive unfoldings of the same sym- bolical figures in the Book of the Revelation. And, indeed, the practice is hallowed to us by the use of our Lord Himself, Who from the pouring out of water on the great day of the Feast of Tabernacles, took occasion to speak of the Holy Ghost, and likened a door (presented to their eyes as is supposed in the precincts of the Temple) to Himself ; and made bread, and the water of the well, significative emblems of things heavenly and divine. And indeed, if we may say it with rever- ence, it was the very characteristic of our Lord’s teaching, to draw moral and religious instruction from visible objects. The Eve of the Annunciation, 1838. ETIKEMENT GOSPEL CONTENTS. Page The Dedication xv PART I. THE EXTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL. The Approach The Western Front. Baptismal Promises. The Left-hand Door — Repentance The Middle Door — Obedience . The Right-hand Door — Faith . 1 3 6 9 The Cloisters. Ecclesiastical Sonnets. , I. The Liturgy rt. Forms III. The Collect for the Day IV. Prayer V. The Complaint . Wl. Sunday 11 12 13 14 15 16 vm CONTENTS. The Cloisters. Ecclesiastical Sonnets. VII. Village Psalmody VIII. The Ancient Village . IX. The Modern Cathedral X. The Daily Service XI. Foreign Breviaries XII. The Church in Scotland XIII. The Church in Wales XIV. The Church in Wales XV. The Church in Wales XVI. Political Changes XVII. The sure Covenant . XVIII. Prayer for the Parliament XIX. Prayer for the King . XX. Consolations of Baptism XXI. The City of God XXII. New Ways XXIII. The Crucifix . XXIV. The Holy Altar . XXV. The Ancient Church . XXVI. The Holy Land . XXVII. Lost Eden XXVIII. The Coming of Christ 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 The Way to the Chapter House . . . Sacred Retirement . 39 The Chapter House .... Episcopacy . . 44 CONTENTS. IX PART II. The North Porch THE NAVE. . . . The Church in Hope Page 53 The Sepulchral Recesses. The Churchman's Friends. ! 1. Laud 2. Ken . 3. King Charles I. 4. Kettlewell 5. Taylor . / 1. Distant Church Music J 2, The Doxology . J 3. The Athanasian Creed v 4. Fast days . The Oratories. Consolations and Strongholds . The North Transept . . THE NORTH AISLE. THE MIDDLE AISLE THE SOUTH AISLE The South Transept . . The Psalms The Lord’s Prayer Holy Scripture . The Creed The Epistle and Gospel 57 58 59 60 61 65 67 69 72 75 91 117 142 166 The Oratories. Consolations and Strongholds. ' 4. Festival Days . 3. The Nicene Creed 2. The Blessing >. 1. Distant Church Bells 181 184 187 189 The Sepulchral Recesses. The Churchman' s Friends. 5. Herbert 4. Butler . 3. King George IIJ. 2. Wilson . 1. Andrewes 192 194 195 196 197 The Church in Fear . The South Porch 198 X CONTENTS. PART III. THE CHOIR. Page The Steps to the Choir . . . The Litany . . 203 The Approach (Despondency . . 208 l Invitation . . . 209 The Skreen Disciplina Arcani . 210 THE CHOIR The Sacramental Hymn 213 The Lady Chapel The Song of the Virgin 233 The Parting Voluntary 240 CONTENTS. XI PART IV. THE PILLARS AND WINDOWS. THE PILLARS The Pillars of the Nave. Patriarchs and Prophets. r Noah Abraham Joseph Moses Joshua David Elij ah Elisha Isaiah Jeremiah Ezekiel Daniel St. Peter St. Andrew St. James St. John The Pillars of the Choir. Apostles. St. Philip . St. Bartholomew St. Matthew St. Thomas St. James . St. Jude St. Simon . St. Matthias Page 241 . 244 . 245 . 246 . 247 . 248 . 249 . 250 . 251 . 252 . 253 . 254 . 255 . 258 . 259 . 260 . 261 . 262 . 263 . 264 . 265 . 266 . 267 . 268 . 269 Xll CONTENTS. THE WINDOWS. The Western Window The Side Windows. Ancient Fathers. The Eastern Window The Departure . . Notes Page . . The Nativity . 270 Clement .... . 274 Ignatius .... . 275 Polycarp . 276 Justin .... . 277 Irenaeus .... . 278 Tertullian . 279 Clement .... . 280 Origen .... . 281 Cyprian .... . 282 Dionysius . 283 Hippolytus . 284 Gregory Thaumaturgus . . 285 Athanasius . 286 Ambrose . 287 Basil .... . 288 Gregory Nazianzen . 289 Hilary .... . 290 Cyril of Jerusalem . . 291 Epiphanius . 292 Gregory Nyssen . 293 Chrysostom . 294 Augustine . 295 Cyril of Alexandria . 296 Jerome .... . 297 . . The Crucifixion . . 298 . 303 . 307 LIST OF ENGRAVINGS. General View Lichfield . . Frontispiece The Ground Plan . to face the Contents The Western Front Amiens . . to face page 3 The Cloisters Salisbury . 11 The Chapter House Wells . . . . .43 The Porch . Wells . . 53 The Sepulchral Recesses Exeter . . 57 The Oratories Coutances . 63 The Transepts York . . 75 The Aisles . York . . 91 The Choir . Beauvais . 213 The Lady Chapel Wells . . 233 THE DEDICATION. THOU Who Thy tabernacle mad’st of old To be a type of things invisible, And didst within Thy temple come to dwell Making it holy ; I Thine altar hold, And pray Thee, if such prayer be not too bold. To sanctify each shrine, and mystic cell Hound this Thine altar, and baptismal well. Thou vilest things to Thy, great ends dost mould : — Accept this offering, and Thy servant spare, Who this hath built with sin- defiled hands ! And when Thine earthly Temple, now so fair, Among the things that have gone by shall be, And nothing but Thy heavenly Temple stands, Pity me in that day, in that day pity me ! XVI THE DEDICATION. And ye that enter at this Temple-gate, When your full hearts ye in His Presence pour, Think of an unclean leper at the door, Admitted erst to your high-gifted state, But by unhallow’d taints left desolate ! And Thou Who intercedest for the poor, Within Thine unseen Temple evermore, Plead for His pardon ere it be too late. Thou didst the leper touch, and take his sin : Heal his sick soul, that he may entrance win To Thy blest City, and so gain within Thy Priestly Absolution while he may, Lest he be laid without too late to pray, When once the Judge hath ris’n, and clos’d the door for aye. PART I. Interior of t!)e ©atDetiraf. B THE APPROACH. When all the air calm Evening woos. And earthly mists are wafted by, And nought unholy breathing nigh, Yon grove in deeps of its repose A wondrous portal doth disclose, And far within a living way. Lit up by an unfading day, Thro ’ the long gloomy vale of woes. And child-like Wisdom holds the key. And Wealth, that to the world is poor. Wide opes to them that ivory door. Where all in other colours stand, Touch’d by a disenchanting wand, And things that seem’d of earth, of Heaven are found to be. i Open me the gates of righteousness, that I may go into them, and give thanks unto the Lord. SKKestcrn JFront. This is the gate of the Lord : the righteous shall enter into it. Psalm cxviii. 19, 20 Right hand Door. Repentance. Obedience. Faith Baptismal promises. Western dFront BAPTISMAL PROMISES. Vtf )c 3££ft=f)an& IBoor. Repentance. EPENTANCE is the lowly door, That leads to yon baptismal well, Which hath its source where Angels dwell : Thence many an arching aisle doth soar, Thence stretches many a sacred floor. And many a thought- inspiring cell, Peopling our sacred citadel : At that blest fountain evermore, Calm Faith, and holy Hope doth spring, And Prayer bedews her wearied wing : There many a bright and Angel guest. With varied plume and changeful vest, Shall lead thee on, and thence shall bring To God’s own mount, thy place of rest. 4 THE WESTERN FRONT. II. But this no home for Fancy deem. Still Morn and Evening, o’er and o’er. Thou must stoop through the lowly door, Still wilt thou at the threshold seem. Still but awakening from the dream ; For what though Jordan’s stream be past. The Canaanite is gathering fast : Still as thou travellest in the beam Of that new morning, more and more Thou shalt thy sinful self deplore : Thy worldly wisdom still unlearning. Still to a Father’s house returning, In lights of that celestial store. Thine image lost the more discerning. III. So daily may’st thou less become In thine own eyes, and thus beguil’d Into the likeness of a child, The narrow gate shall give thee room : As dawns the light of thy last home, The wreaths of Eden, sin-defil’d. Drop off, but thou art reconcil’d To sorrow, leaving some, and some Before thee gone, and waiting thee, THE WESTERN FRONT. 5 Where relics of lost Paradise Are gathering ; thus made lowly wise, Till Life’s dark porch shall set thee free. And there shall break upon thine eyes The temple of Eternity. 6 THE WESTERN FRONT. ®f)£ Boor. Obedience. If thou art one whose cry is Liberty, Pass not the portal of our hallow’d shrine. We in a holier freedom would be free. If thou in wealth or honour lov’st to shine. To build in cedars, or at ease recline, No holy awe thy tongue and foot shall hold In those lov’d haunts, where ancient Discipline Keeps watch, amid her treasures manifold. And welcomes to stern walls and dim cathedrals old. II. At her command the Apostolic key Opens the solemn doors, in speaking stone Her glories far withdraw, where none can see, Seeking the Infinite in secret known, And tell of wonders which surround His throne ; Her carv’d embroideries, which retire aloof. Are ancient virtues, seen by God alone, And His good Angels, mysteries learn’d by proof, And prayers which hide from man o’er Heaven’s embowering roof. THE WESTERN FRONT. 7 III. Ye cloistral shades, and angel-haunted cells. Chantries, and tuneful roofs, and Altars old. Where incommunicable Godhead dwells ! Let your dread spirit fill me, my hand hold. And every thought to your obedience mould ! While through the avenue of number’d years, As through a pillar’d vista, I behold Where Christ for me the bleeding burden bears. Till all my heart be love, and soul -constraining fears ; IV. And I learn your deep lesson, up that road To Calvary’s awful mount Thy Cross to bear. After Thee and with Thee, and share Thy load ; — Divine prerogative ! if so brought near. And made in that similitude more dear, We share too Thine Anointing ; heart and knee Shall so gain firmness, till in holier fear. Clinging beneath the foot of that dread tree. We hide ourselves, and look, dear Lord, to Thee, V. Calm on the Rock of Ages. While below, For ever restless, and for eyer loud. Toss the tumultuous seas of human woe. 8 THE WESTERN FRONT, Death and decay, like shadows of a cloud. Pass o’er each scene, and if we be allow’d To linger on, like waves which break on waves, All that we loved to dim destruction crowd ; Day and Night swifter seek their silent caves. And we are left alone, standing above our graves, Which are the mouths of that unfathom’d sea. Whose awful secrets Thou alone canst tell ! Then where flee we for refuge, but to Thee, And Thine obedience ? heaven- constructed cell, Wherein, as in a temple. Love doth dwell, While tempests war around, with suppliant eyes To penitential prayer composed well, Awaiting, till the Day-spring shall arise, And with the Judgment ope the everlasting skies. VI THE WESTERN FRONT. 9 3H.1 gf) anti Boor. Faith. A wanderer thro’ the vale of years, And westward bent her pilgrim feet, Here Faith hath made her last retreat. A wondrous key her shoulder bears, The blue of Heaven the stole she wears, When Angels left sad Eden’s seat, She stay’d, fall’n man’s companion meet ; Again his downcast head she rears, And seeks the lost to bear their woes ; ’Twas she at Jordan vigils kept, And by Euphrates sat and wept : — To them who will her secret prove A hidden cross she doth disclose, A word that may the fnountains move. II. Here now the Church’s pillar’d shrine She hath her habitation made, And' sanctified the solemn shade ; Bidding celestial brightness shine. 10 THE WESTERN FRONT. Where else were but a formless mine. When these dead walls her heaven-born aid, And secret spirit shall pervade. Terrestrial things become divine : ’Tis on her breath the Collect soars. And Psalms attain the eternal doors ; No health in the baptismal wave, In hallowed cup no power to save, Without her — Life a cheerless noon. And Death a night without a moon. III. Here when her wrapt eye heavenward streams In calm and holy Litanies, She bringeth down the pitying skies ; The dove upon the fountain gleams. In bread mysterious blessing teems. Thence going forth she to chaste eyes Clothes Nature with her sympathies ; When night’s dark curtains fall, she seems. On mountain tops with silvery feet, Holding with Heaven communion sweet ; When clouds Heaven’s moving surface wield. She opes beyond her bright-blue shield ; When warring tumults gather near. She lifts the consecrated spear. Thou shalt hide them privily by Thine own presence from the provoking of all men. ©i)c ©lotstm. lEcclcstasitcal Sonneis. Thou shalt keep them secretly in Thy tabernacle from the strife of tongues. Psalm xxxi. 20. v,ri ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS. I. The Liturgy. Ask for tlie old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest. A path of peace amid the tangled grove, A moon-lit way of sweet security — Bright holy days that form a galaxy To make a road to Heav’n — strains from above Whereon the spheres of duty kindlier move. Drinking pure light and heaven-born harmony — Such is the path of thy calm Liturgy, Ancient of mothers, in parental love Daily unwinding from thine annual maze Treasures that wax not old, whence still may grow Fresh adoration. On thy face (of thee Praying to be more worthy) as we gaze Thy soul comes forth in beauty, and thy brow So calm, is full of holiest Deity. 12 THE CLOISTERS. II. Forms. The care of discipline is love. Love, from whatever earthly cave he springs, (That spell of something heavenly dwelling round Home, friend, or grave endear’d,) when he hath found Meet entrance, he will shake his odorous wings, And throw a charm o’er thousand meaner things. O’er whatsoe’er at first he entrance found Into the soul ; in ties associate bound He lives, and o’er them his own radiance flings. Then why should not a holier Peace and Mirth Love those mute forms, which cherished first their birth. And brac’d them for the withering blasts of earth? The gladsome soul that her devotion plies, Bound in the wreath of ancient Liturgies, Why should she not her chain beyond all freedom prize ? THE CLOISTERS. 13 III. The Collect for the Day. They will go from strength to strength. And let me, loving still of thee to learn. Thy weekly Collect on my spirit wear. That so my steps may turn to practice clear, And ’scape those ways where feverish fancies burn ; So may thy Sunday thoughts at every turn Meet us, like healthful founts in Elim green 3 . Casting a freshness o’er the week. This scene Of outward things, as still the wheels return. Leads sternly to decay : thou ever true. As on the grave and withering age we gain. Thy tale of better things dost still renew. Like tune that pleas’d our childhood’s pensive ear. Still as we older grow ’tis doubly dear. Aye wakening echoes new, and deep and deeper strain. a Exodus xv. 27. 14 THE CLOISTERS. IV. Prayer. They shall he satisfied with the pleasures of Thy house, even of Thy holy temple. Hidden, exhaustless treasury, heaven-taught Prayer, Armoury of unseen aids — watchword and spell At which blest Angels pitch their tent and dwell About us — glass to bring the bright Heavens near — Sea of eternal beauty — wondrous stair By patriarch seen — key leading to a cell Where better worlds are hidden — secret well Where Love with golden chalice may repair, And slake his thirst, nursing with fragrant dews Heaven’s lilies fair, and rose on wild- wood spray, Calm thought and high resolve! strange instrument, Wherewith from spheres serene Music is sent Into the mind, throwing o’er all fresh hues. And mystic colourings — yet we cannot pray ! THE CLOISTERS. 15 y. The Complaint. Lord, who shall dwell in Thy tabernacle, or who shall rest on Thy holy hill ? We cannot pray, strange mystery ! here is known No wearying — no deceivings of sick Hope, No aching limb, or brow, wherewith to cope — No pallid after- thoughts — and of the boon No half-surmis’d upbraiding — no cold frown Bidding us come again — no lengthening slope Tiring the eye from far. These portals ope To dwellings lucid as th’ autumnal moon. But we along the world’s slow sluggish strand Are fostering vanity, which joint by joint Climbs, like Nile’s reed, into a tufted crown, And woos each wind that waves its golden down, All hollow, soon a barbed shaft ’twill point. Or staff, to pierce light heart or trusting hand. 16 THE CLOISTERS. VI. Sunday. This is the day which the Lord hath made ; we will rejoice and he glad in it. Sweet day, let not the clouds of earthly Care Come over thy calm brightness, let Reproof And pale Remorse and Sadness stand aloof. Let nought of worldly strife, or ruder air. Ruffle, or rend the mantle thou dost wear ! The robe thou wear’st is all celestial woof. Come from the grave with Jesus. Heaven’s blue roof Seems nearer earth, and all earth hath of fair Is fairer. On thy calm and glassy floor We sit in commune sweet, thy riches blest Recounting, and forget that we are poor. Let us be bright to meet thee, Angel guest. With contemplations of enduring rest, And w’th thee listen at the heavenly door. THE CLOISTERS. 17 VII. Village Psalmody. All my fresh springs shall be in thee. And is it not thy praise, Church of our love, That thou unto each little rural nook Of quiet hast soft golden plumage shook From off the wing of thine own David’s dove, And turn’d the melodies, that nearest prove To the heart of man, into a sacred book, — Key to the soul’s best avenues, — a brook That steals into Religion’s secret grove ? If those straw roofs and ivied cots among There play a gleam of song, ’tis no wild fire, But sparks, tho’ scatter’d, from a heaven-strung lyre. Thus, when the cloud of music roll’d along Fills the melodious dome, blest sounds inspire Each cloistral nook, vocal with sacred song. c 18 THE CLOISTERS. VIII. The ancient Village. And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard. Let me still love thee in thy quietude. Sweet sylvan village ! and thou, aged rook. Who sitt’st sole sentinel in ivied nook, Survivor of thy noisy brotherhood ! And I with thee, in thine own pensive mood. Could linger, till the lights of ages fall Around us, like moonbeams on tap’stried hall, And saintly forms come forth, and virgins good. Who gave their days to Heaven. From that lone pile Avaunt, rude change, thy disenchanting wand. And let the holy Cross linger awhile ! Ah, feather’d Chronicler, would that from thee Thou could’st forefend Art’s all-transforming hand, And guard thy hoary haunts of sweet Antiquity. THE CLOISTERS. 19 TX. The modern Cathedral. Ye have said, It is vain to serve God; and what profit is it that we have kept His ordinances ? Without — the world’s unceasing noises rise. Turmoil, disquietude, and busy fears. Within — there are the sounds of other years, Thoughts full of Prayer, and solemn harmonies. Which imitate on earth the peaceful skies. And canonized Regret, which backward bears Her longing aspect, moving thoughtful tears. Such blest abodes, in Heaven’s all-pitying eyes, Might yet be eloquent for a nation’s good ; But where is now the kneeling multitude ? The silver-tongued spruce verger passes by Hurrying his group, the proud and curious eye Of connoisseur — the loiterer’s sauntering mood : Sad picture of lost Faith and evil nigh ! 20 THE CLOISTERS. X. The Daily Service. Where two or three are gathered together in My Name, there am I in the midst of them. And are we then alone on holy ground, Most gracious Father ? Are we then alone. Because the world regards not, and is gone ? Where are the solemn dead which lie around. Are they not with us ? Are Thy courts not crown’d With spiritual hosts about, while the sweet tone Still lingers round thine Altars ? Are they flown , Bearing no more to see their God disowned ? Has the great Michael left us, mighty arm, Gabriel, our fortitude, and the blest charm Of Raphael’s healing name ? In my heart’s fear I heard a voice, “ Be still, and lowly bend ; While two or three remain, thy Lord is here. And where His presence is. His Hosts attend.” THE CLOISTERS. 21 XI. Foreign Breviaries. They that worship Him shall worship Him in spirit and in truth. Dear Church, our island’s sacred sojourner, A richer dress thy Southern sisters own, And some would deem too bright their flowing zone For sacred walls. I love thee, nor would stir Thy simple note, severe in character, By use made lovelier, for the lofty tone Of hymn, response, and touching antiphone, Lest we lose homelier truth. The chorister That sings the summer nights, so soft and strong, To music modulating his sweet throat, Labours with richness of his varied note, Yet lifts not unto Heaven a holier song, Than our home bird that, on some leafless thorn, Hymns his plain chaunt each wintry eve and morn. 22 THE CLOISTERS. XII. The Church in Scotland. Rej oice not against me, O mine enemy ; when I fall, I shall arise when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall he a light unto me. More pure the gale where the wild thistle rears His mountain banner on his stony tower, Than odorous breath of cultivated bower ; More true to nature o’er its armed spears The mountain rose its lonely chalice bears. Than many-folding cups of cherish’d flower ; And, traversing those wilds with silvery shower, E’en Winter’s moon more clear and free appears ! Such is thy sister of the northern hills. Less honour’d, not less holy ; bow’d with ills, But not destroy’d ; pure branch of the true vine, Drinking her nurture from the barren rock, Of pitiless elements she braves the shock, And hath less earthly beauty — more divine. THE CLOISTERS. 23 XIII. The Church in Wales. Why hast Thou broken down her hedges, that all they that go by pluck off her grapes ? Alas, Menevia ! what of thee remains, Primeval saintly Church ? from Towy’s flood To Conway springs an ever-teeming brood Of novelty, to claim thy true domains ; Religious Freedom, worse than Romish chains ! As in the stool where some huge oak once stood, Some mountain bird now hides his sylvan food ; And lo ! the ancient stock with wonder gains A doubtful, new, and motley progeny. Springing in mockery from her aged root. With coral berries wild and show of fruit. And here and there between the ancestral shoot Is seen, to emulate their pliancy, Bowing to each wind as it passes by. 24 THE CLOISTERS. XIV. The Church in Wales. Wherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes ? Ancient Menevia, I must still love thee. Nor yet is silent thy Cathedral song. Though nought to echo back her solemn tongue, Save the true emblems of Heaven’s constancy, Th’ unchanging mountains and unchanging Sea, Which to each other thy deep tones prolong. And both bear on to Heaven. What though, among Thine innocent nuptial feasts and household glee. Thy harp is silenced in Religion’s name. And Discipline become a word of blame, Mother of love and nurse of cheerful thought, While holiest liturgies are set at nought. To enshrine the feverish dreams of human will, Ancient Menevia, I must love thee still. THE CLOISTERS. 25 XV. The Church in Wales. Turn Thee again, Thou Lord of hosts, look down from Heaven, behold, and visit this vine. For thou didst take me up unto thy breast. Pitying my lost and helpless infancy, And didst engraft me in the living tree. Still breathe fresh thoughts from thy Plinlimmon’s crest. Hedg’d by thy language, (in thy mountain-nest, Indented oft with blue o’er-arching sea,) That so the airs of foul disloyalty Reach thee but faintly from our sad unrest. Which like Avernian steams, to Heaven’s deep roof Daily ascend, and gathering there aloof. Hang in tempestuous cloud's. If thou would’ st still Have thy good Angel guard thee free from blame, Rend not Christ’s robe at thine irreverent will. But wrap it round thee, lest they see thy shame ! 26 THE CLOISTERS. XVI. Political changes. I have seen an end of all perfection, hut Thy commandment is exceeding broad. Strange — the o’erwhelming tide that beareth on The sonl of Nations — mighty, though unseen, And wielding mighty destinies ; not e’en Huge Ocean, on his bed with thunders strewn, Rocking from pole to pole to the pale Moon, More constant in mutation ; ’mid the scene We stretch our sounding canvass, nor ought ween Our whereabouts, save where the past hath gone ! It was the Everlasting that pass’d by. We saw not, but in cloud o’er cloud arrayed, Ocean o’er Ocean roll’d ineffably. Onward, like tide-born billows, He doth heave Men’s spirits, each upon his own bark staid. We to behold His Glory’s skirts had leave. THE CLOISTERS. 27 XVII. The sure Covenant. For this is as the waters of Noah unto Me ; for as I have sworn the waters shall no more go over the earth, so have I sworn that I would not he wroth with thee. Let the storms ply their deep and threat’ning bass, The Bow of Promise shall the shades illume. Brightly descried in Faith’s eternal glass. E’en like an Angel’s many-coloured plume Waving in tempest — pledge that in her bloom Nature, emerging from the stormy mass, Will keep her time and order, — Let them pass The wicked and their plottings : ’mid the gloom. The Church surveys her Covenant sign, and smiles. And ’neath her solemn rainbow’s dripping arch, A mystic wing spread o’er her daring march. She goes forth, on her heavenly work the whiles, Though weeping, sure that One in joy shall bring, Her and her sheaves at harvest-moon to sing. 28 THE CLOISTERS. XVIII. Prayer for the Parliament. God forbid that I should sin against the Lord, in ceasing to pray for you. Yet Peace be in these walls ! Upon them rest The Royal Martyr’s mantle from the skies b . Though little they Heaven’s sweet protection prize ! And haply so our prayers to our own breast Unanswer’d may return, yet not unblest. If thus our soul learn patience, and arise. Good Charles, to thy diviner charities ! Albeit oft, with heavy thoughts opprest, We see in them but clouds from our sick land, And the dread sword unsheath’d in God’s right hand. Thus set we the soul’s anchor, if it be Right in th’ All-seeing eyes, then be it so. May the vex’d Church learn her true panoply, And lift above the clouds her tranquil brow. b This Prayer was appointed in the reign of King Charles the First. THE CLOISTERS. 29 XIX. Prayer for the King. Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long. If the meek-hearted to the earth is heir. Refresh’d in multitude of peace divine. And length of days, by what blest discipline Shall we best drink of that celestial air ? By what calm ways of holy Wisdom share Th’ eternal sweetness of her Angel eyne. Who leans on high from the meek Saviour’s shrine ? The path of Life will shew — the path of Pray’r. There filial duty first shall lead thee by The house of Pride, then manhood’s Loyalty Take thee in hand, her spirit to infuse. Pray thou with them, imbibe their heavenly hues. And they will lead thee to that Palace Hall, Where God is King and Father, all in all. 30 THE CLOISTERS. XX. Consolations of Baptism. O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself, hut in Me is thy help. Brightly the morn of onr New Birth arose From the Baptismal Fount, in awful trance Unveiling half her glorious countenance. We turn’d to our own dreams, wooing Earth’s woes, And slumber’d. Haply now ere Ev’ning’s close We wake, and o’er us see a pitying glance. The heavenly morn gone by, day in advance, And far away the towers of our repose. We doubt the title soil’d by sinful stain. And of our birthright ask some sign again. Such is distrust, of Sin the penalty ! Oh ! rather, when thy knees sink on the plain. Rise, and look back on that Egyptian sea, And doubt no more the arm that set thee free. THE CLOISTERS. 31 XXL The City of God. Glorious things are spoken of thee, thou City of God. Throughout the older word, story and rite — Throughout the new, skirting all clouds with gold — Through rise and fall and destinies manifold Of pagan empires — through the dreams and night Of nature, and the darkness and the light. Still young in hope, in disappointment old — Through mists which fall’n humanity enfold. Into the vast and viewless infinite. Rises th’ Eternal City of our God. Her towers the morn with disenchanting rod Dimly and darkly labours to disclose. Lifting the outskirts of the o’er-mantling gloom ; Bright shapes come forth, arch, pinnacle, and dome. In Heaven is hid its height and deep repose. 32 THE CLOISTERS. XXII. New Ways. Then is the offence of the Cross ceased. Now each new Creed will ready welcome move. That bids not in the secret soul to bear The Cross with Thee, in silence and in fear, And Duty’s silvery trappings yoked with Love. O sternly kind Severity, to prove The children of the promise, year by year. And that unearthly bosom calm and clear, Meet mirror to enshrine th’ Eternal Dove. Yet this is hard — this holy : turn thine eyes Inward, and thou shalt find the broad new way, like the foul Stygian deep, where hideous things Stable in darkness, and but fold their wings Deeming it light — he thine to fear and pray. And feed on that life-giving Sacrifice ! THE CLOISTERS. 33 XXIII. The Crucifix . That I may know Him, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being made conformable unto His death. Though by such thorns as on Thy brow abide, Thine would Thy servant be — thorns from the weed Of sorrow, whereof Adam sowed the seed ; Thine by the spear that pierced Thy tender side, Compunctuous throes, which drink the heart’s deep tide ; Thine by the nails, which made Thy pure hands bleed, — Nails of stern discipline, rough arts that breed Keen penitential yearnings, or the pride Of the rude scoffing world ; by whate’er chain May quell rebellion or of ' soul or eye. Whatever penance schools of shame, or pain. Whatever scourge may strike, and not in vain. So bind me to Thy Cross, that I may die Daily, the fleeting years that I remain. D 34 THE CLOISTERS. XXIV. The Holy Altar. The glory of the Lord came into the house by the way of the gate, whose prospect is toward the East. Unto the East we turn, to which belong More than the heart divines, or eye descries ; There is the Altar which our life supplies. The voice is silent, lest it should do wrong To things which are too high for mortal tongue. The Heavens are looking on with wondering eyes. And Angel faces crowd the o’erhanging skies. Shall men unheeding to the temple throng Where God is present ? Watchful evermore. Let calm Obeisance at Thine Altar wait, And lowly-bowing Reverence keep the door Of our dull hearts ; that there we may be brought To the society of holy thought, Revering God, to man compassionate. THE CLOISTERS. 35 XXV. The Ancient Church. | I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. I Unto the East we turn — from the cold bourn Of our dull western cave Faith’s pensive mood Sets there her tranced eyelid, gathering food Of solemn thoughts which make her less forlorn. And back to Apostolic men is borne. There, from her evening and dim solitude. She joins the companies of the wise and good. Who walk upon the Gospel’s glorious morn. Their dwarf dimensions of mortality Seeming to grow upon the golden sky, Beyond the cold shade of imperious Rome. Ambrose and Basil, either Gregory, Clement and Cyril, Cyprian’s earthly home. And the free lips of glowing Chrysostom. 36 THE CLOISTERS. XXVI. The Holy Land. His windows being open in his chamber toward Jerusalem, he kneeled upon his knees, and prayed. Unto the East we turn — like some bright stair Let down from Heaven, the land where Angels still Linger at Chinnereth’s lake or Tabor’s hill. Here Jesus sat, there stood, here kneel’d in prayer; Here was His cradle, there His sepulchre. E’en now appears the bleeding spectacle Upheld to the wide world : the cup of ill Is drain’d, with hands outstretch’d, bleeding and bare. He doth in death His innocent head recline. Turn’d to the West. Descending from his height. The sun beheld, and veil’d him from the sight. Thither, while from the serpent’s wound we pine, To Thee, remembering that baptismal sign, We cum, and drink anew Thy healing might. THE CLOISTERS. 37 XXVII. Lost Eden. When they return unto Thee, in the land of their enemies, and pray unto Thee toward their land which Thou gavest unto their fathers, then hear Thou their supplication in Heaven. Unto the East we turn, in thoughtful gaze. Like longing exiles to their ancient home, Mindful of our lost Eden. Thence may come Genial ambrosial airs around the ways Of daily life, and fragrant thoughts that raise Home-sympathies : so may we cease to roam. Seeking some resting-place before the tomb. To which on wandering wings devotion strays. But true to our high birthright, and to Him Who leads us by the flaming Cherubim, Death’s gate, our pilgrim spirits may arise O’er earth’s affections ; and ’mid worldlings rude, Walk loosely in their holier solitude. And breathe the air of their lost Paradise. 38 THE CLOISTERS. XXVIII. The Coming of Christ. As the lightning cometh out of the East, and shineth even unto the West, so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be. Unto the East we turn, with watchful eyes, Where opens the white haze of silvery lawn. And the still trees stand in the streak of dawn, Until the Sun of Righteousness shall rise, And far behind shall open all the skies. And golden clouds of Angels be withdrawn Around His presence. Then there shall be gone. Fleeing before His face in dread surprise. The Heaven and Earth and the affrighted Sea, And the tribunal shall be set on high. And we the fiery trial must abide. Like nightly travellers to the kindling sky. Awake or sleeping to yon eastern side We turn, and know not when the time shall be. Sacred Retirement. A mountain lake, where sleeps the mid-day Moon, When beetle booming by is heard no more — ’Twixt drowsy hills and sea a sultry noon — A rural Cburch, some evening funeral o’er — A leaf’s still image in a fountain hoar — On cloistral pane the gaze of Saint or Seer, Suffused with lessons sweet of heavenly lore, And heavenlv-rapt affection — These all wear Calm unalloy’d, but none so deep as lingereth here. II. The long green avenue, where light and shade Chequering the floor, now play, now sleep profound ; Old pines, the lonely breeze that by them stray’d 40 THE WAY TO THE CHAPTER HOUSE. Wooing in vain ; old yews, hiding the ground. Grey oaks, and far-off spires, seem to have found A voice, while busier sounds are dimly spent, As waken’d by the stillness. One around. On pillars of blue light hath spread His tent ; And walks with us below in silence eloquent. III. And now we hear Him : thus when Nature’s wheel Is still, we find ourselves hurrying along ; In crowds ourselves alone we mostly feel ; When turbulence of business, and the throng Of passionate hopes, which unto Earth belong, And mould too oft from Earth the rebel will. Sleep ; — then we hear the mighty undersong. To which loud Niagara’s voice is still, And mute the thunders strong which air and ocean fill. IV. O heavenly Love, that o’er us, sin defil’d. With thy blest arm beneath us, leaning low. Dost watch, fond mother, o’er thy slumbering child, That still in dreams is tossing to and fro. And knowing knows thee not ! Aye ! come and go THE WAY TO THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 41 Thy messengers of pity ; from Heaven’s door The star its silver image shoots below, Seen instantaneous in the wat’ry floor ; So quick ’tween Earth and Heaven thy beams of mercy pour ! V. Into my cold and leaden spirit stream. Out of thy Star of beauty, that doth burn Around my Saviour’s brow ! O grant one beam. One faint, dim emanation from thine urn, Which e’en in me may so responsive turn. Like magnet to thy pole, that I may rove No longer. I my daily path would earn. And gather tow’rd the haven ; I would move On by thy light till lost in everlasting love. VI. Oh ! hide me in thy temple, ark serene. Where safe upon the swell of this rude sea, I might survey the stars, thy towers between. And might pray always ; not that I would be Uplifted, or would fain not dwell with thee On the rough waters, but in soul within I sigh for thy pure calm, serene and free ; I too would prove thy Temple, ’mid the din Of earthly things, unstain’d by care or sin ! 42 THE WAY TO THE CHAPTER HOUSE. VII. Into the deeps, where Ev’ning holds her court, A feather’d flock are winging their wild flight, Now gradual fading far, now borne athwart. And seen again, now lost in Infinite And Sea of purple ; we, with eager sight Would match their soaring wings, as on the swell Of music, ling’ring in some vaulted height, — Then sink, and feel our chain and earthly cell; — When shall the soul be free, and in those glories dwell ? He that entereth in by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. erije chapter ^ousc. Cppiscopacv). Verily, verily I say unto you, the door of the sheep. St. John x. 2, 7. am <&f)a$Ux i&ouse. EPISCOPACY. I. The Key-stone of the visible Church. II. Sacred Anti- quity. III. Divine Commission. IV. Enmity of the world. V. Its power spiritual. VI. Its blessings. VII. Its dress Humility. VIII. Succession from the Apostles. The Presbytery, being worthy of God, is united to the Bishop, as the strings are to an harp, thus hound together in union of heart and voice, and in that love of which Jesus Christ is the Leader and the Guardian. Ignatius’ Epist. to the Ephesians , c. iv. I. Mysterious harp of heaven-born harmony ! Touch’d by th’ all-hallowing Spirit from above, Thou fill’ st the Church, else dead, with duteous love. Obedience, such as holds the hosts on high, And pure heaven- soothing order. Mortal eye Beholds not, nor can mortal hearing prove The musical soul which on thy chords doth move, Tempering to holiest union ; but the sky 44 THE CHAPTER HOUSE. May catch the echo of the unearthly sound. For Christ Himself, and His appointed few. Moulded the frame, and in the silvery bound Set all the glowing wires. Then potent grew (Like that pale starry lyre ’twixt sea and cloud Seen fitfully in Heaven when winds are loud) The treasury of sweet sounds : deep aisle and fane Prolong, from age to age, the harmonious strain. II. The soul that knows not thy constraining power. Sacred Antiquity ! hath lost a spell From Heaven, — a delicate chain impalpable To hold clear spirits ; he hath miss’d the tower Where Faith finds refuge, marr’d the sacred flower Of bloom and modesty, aye wont to dwell On Virtue’s awful face. Love hath a cell Where, watch’d and treasur’d as her choicest dower. She keeps what bears the impress of her Lord, Now doubly dear by age ; such high control Is Piety’s life-breath. If Freedom’s word Finds in chy breast an echo, lay aside That right- asserting attitude of soul, Ere in the Christian’s temple thou abide. Where he who dwells must dwell on bended knee, From his own merits praying to be free. THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 45 III. The Sovereignty of God is shed o’er Kings, Throwing around them a mysterious fear. Which, though it would not, cannot but revere. When the true Line, in type of heavenly things. The shadow of God’s Kingship o’er them flings. But in Thy Priesthood Thou Thyself art here. And virtue goeth from Thee. Faith brings near That heaven- descended stair, and upward springs. With world- averted face, and, more and more Admitting to Thy Godhead’s secret store, Leads up to Thee. Healing Thy garments fills, And grace and truth th’ impregnate air distils Around Thy presence. With awe-stricken eyes We sit with lov’d disciples round Thy feet ; Or, as the growing bread Thy love supplies. From Apostolic hands we take and eat. IV. The Persian king, from arm’d Abdera’s rocks. Fetter’d and lash’d free Ocean ; who the while. Not to o’erwhelm him, with a patient smile. Forbore to shake his spray-bespangled locks : ’Tis thus when man the Almighty’s goodness mocks ; — 46 THE CHAPTER HOUSE. The chosen of the vineyard rose, and said. Come, let us kill the Heir ; when He is dead All will be ours. The word is bold, and shocks Our boasted reason ; yet from age to age Proud scorners play that descant o’er and o’er : When the world’s minions, or in mirth or rage. Lifting the scourge o’er crown or shrine, engage, These be my spoils, these only, and no more, The Church, forbearing, as that sea forbore. Moves not to crush, but careless of the chain, Looks bright, and breathes out her untroubled strain. V. Welcome their hate ; the good which they dispense Poisons the proud and pains the lowly soul : Nor can the spells which this rude world control, And worldly arts, and wit, and eloquence. One spirit rescue from the toils of sense. Or bring one rescued to the eternal goal. Thy robe must be thy Master’s humble stole, Watching and fast, and fast and watching, thence Long midnight meditations, grave and deep, Rous’d from earth’s palsying hand of drowsy sleep By Persecution’s wrath and Satan’s hate. And wafting prayers of saints that on thee wait. THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 47 Some Herbert hidden in his rural nook, Or Kempis kneeling o’er a cloistral book, And chief of spells, the halo yet unspent. The latest Breath of Jesus ere He went a . VI. Therefore to you the choirs of Heaven arise In reverence. Key- stones are ye, every one. In God’s sure house ; fountains of benison. Which Christ, the mighty Sea of love, supplies ; Visible angels lighting lower skies ; How may we praise — how style you ; call’d alone To sit in sackcloth on Christ’s earthly throne. Channels of living waters ? golden ties From Christ’s meek cradle to His throne on high ? Bright shower-drops sparkling from God’s orbed light ? We hide our eyes, and ask what vesture bright Shall clothe you, gathered or from earth or sky. Ye chiefest servants of a suffering Lord, The King of shame and sorrow ? what afford Sky-tinctured grain to robe you ? Other dress Faith owns not, save her Master’s lowliness. a See St. John xx. 22, 23. 48 THE CHAPTER HOUSE. VII. So not alone Christ’s mission-crown on high Shall gird your brows with radiance, but the urn Of Heaven’s own light in your true bosoms burn ; For the great God Who fills eternity Makes lowliest hearts His temple ; such we see. When to Faith’s earliest morn our eyes we turn. And round th’ all-conquering Cross of shame dis- cern. Kneeling in light, a suffering Hierarchy ; Thence, high and wide, ’mid Persecution’s night. The East and West are with their glory bright ; As on some festal eve in glorious Rome, Far through the pillar’d shades of Peter’s dome, A thousand glowing lamps fling light on high, Making their own calm day, their own pure sky Around the holiest altar cross, whence springs The mystic dove, shaking her golden wings. VIII. “ He that despiseth you doth Me despise.” Lo ! at that call Faith her best robe prepares. And Heaven to Earth lets down the eternal stairs, Through a long line of more than good or wise. The high-born legates of the appeased skies THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 49 Come down their avenue of sacred years ; Each in his hand Messiah’s olive bears. Ye priestly brotherhood, with reverend eyes Receive a guest from Heaven, your ancient seat Open ye, and Religion’s deep retreat ! The dust of Time is on him, and Christ’s mark, Worldly reproach ; he bears the unquench’d spark To kindle into life earth’s secret womb — To lighten or destroy, cheer or consume ; Through chains, fire, sword, he bears thy last reprieve, “ He that receiveth you, doth Me receive !” E PART II. ® f) e N a b e. As for me, I will come into Thine house, even upon the multitude of Thy mercy : ^ovcijcs. QLty (£f)urdf) in 3|ope. Vti)e ©imrct) in Jpc ar. And in Thy fear will I worship toward Thy holy temple. Psalm v. It was the saddest time e’er lower’d on earth. As Sin and Sorrow woke in Paradise, When Mercy’s voice ’mid frighted Nature’s cries Broke forth, and pledg’d a Saviour’s birth. When Noah saw how sternly Ruin gaunt Sat on the grave of what did once rejoice, ’Twas then he saw the Bow, thnce heard the voice, “With thee shall stand My Covenant.” Abram was going to the grave forlorn And childless, whom the Lord took forth and shew’d On night’s dark vault a starry multitude, — Such, Abram, shall of thee be born. Exil’d, ’mid foes, and Egypt’s withering shade, Lean’d Israel on his staff beside his tomb, ’Twas light that broke from that dark gathering gloom , Which upon Judah’s sceptre play’d a . Gen. xlix. 10. 54 THE NORTH PORCH. When Jesse’s chosen son heav’d the deep sigh. Forbidden with stain’d hands to build the shrine. His harp reveal’d a holier Palestine, And spoke strange things of import high. The destin’d Assur came with armed stream. And Judah heard the sound of Ephraim’s chain, And rent in thousand shivers on the plain Saw her long-promised Diadem, And Chebar heard, and Ulai heard her cry ; ’Twas that dark cloud which did on her alight. Was loaded with glad Prophecy, and bright With the Eternal Saviour nigh. Faith, listening to the lyre that spoke Him near. Saw Lebanon’s cedars wave to Seraph’s hymn, And ’mid the vale of Desolation dim A helm and moonlight -gleaming spear. It was the guiltiest, darkest hour of man. When the shock’d Earth shook in her agony, And sun in shame had veil’d his sorrowing eye, ’Twas then our better Birth began. Yea, when sun, moon, and stars upon the skies Shall shake, like figs upon the wither’d tree, Then your redemption cometh speedily. And ye too may lift up your eyes. THE NORTH PORCH. 55 Then, blessed Lord, when signs of coming ill Shall speak Thy heavy vengeance at the door. May we but cling unto Thy hand the more. And in a holier hope be still. When doth the soul her higher wisdom see ? — When Sorrow’s clouds obscure her firmament, ’Tis then the many-colour’d bow is bent. To bid the birds of darkness flee. Not when bright Summer winds her gladsome horn, But when bluff Winter’s blustering Charioteer Chases the relics of the faded year. The lowly Child of Peace is born. And in the gleams which thro’ the darkness pour Of Calvary, Poverty is our best wealth. Sorrow our comforter, and Sickness health, And Death of endless life the door. Yea, Sin herself, as by a charmed touch. Hath unlearn’ d her black nature, and brought down High thoughts, a better righteousness to own, And, much forgiven, loveth much. Thus have I seen at eve, when all the west Marshall’d the shapes of darkness manifold, A gleam hath turn’d to palaces of gold, From the bright sun gone to his rest. - . ' Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord Sepulchral Accesses. VLf)e ©hurrinnan’s JFrtentfs. Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours : and their works do follow them. Rev. xiv. 13. CfK .Sepulchral iiccc$$c«3. THE CHURCHMAN’S FRIENDS. LAUD. Thy spirit in thee strove To cleanse and set in beauty free The ancient shrines, mindful of Him Whose love Swept with the scourge His Father’s sanctuary. Thy cloke was burning zeal. Untaught the worldling’s arts to wield, But Innocence thy coat of triple steel. And Loyalty and Truth thy sword and shield. Thus arm’d against the tomb, Thy dauntless course bore on to bind Thy dying brows with deathless martyrdom. Unsought by the true soul, but undeclin’d. 58 THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. KEN. Ye holy gates, open your calm repose. Between him and the world your barriers close ; Nought hath he but his lyre and sacred key. Which the world gave not, nor can take away. One of that Seven against a king he stood. The world was with him in his fortitude. One of that Five, he scorn’d her flattering breath, And firm in strength which wisdom cherisheth, Where Truth and Loyalty had mark’d the ground, Stood by that suffering king, allegiance-bound ; Then as in him his Saviour stood reveal’d, The world in anger rose, against him steel’d. And drove him from her — Open your repose. And, her and him between, your heavenly barriers close. THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. 59 KING CHARLES L I saw a Royal Form with eye upturn’d. Rising from furnace of affliction free. And knew that brow of deep serenity. Whereon, methought, a crown of glory burn’d. With a calm smile, as if the death-cry turn’d On his freed ear to seraph sounds on high ! Still in the guilty place the hideous cry Bark’d impotent. In quiet hope inurn’d Was his poor fleshly mantle, but the breath Of our bad world o’er this unquiet stage Flouts his blest name, unpardon’d e’en in death. And thus his holy shade on earth beneath. Still walks ’mid evil tongues from age to age. Bearing the cross, his Master’s heritage. But no unkindly word for evermore Can reach his rest, or pass th’ eternal door. 60 THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. KETTLEWELL. Is there a form in England’s Church enshrined. Which some bright guardian Angel doth invest With his own hues, in which her mien imprest, And her transforming spirit throughly shined, In calm obedience lovingly resigned ? ’Tis Coleshill’s saint, in meekness manifest, — He whom in trial’s hour she sweetly blest With patient wisdom, and so disciplin’d To keep his garments, that for him she won From th’ Eucharistic fount of Benison Stern reverential Truth ; then Charity Made his meek heart an altar, and thereon Burn’d, like some fragrant incense, to the sky In holy prayers rising continually. THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. 61 TAYLOR. Like a woof where jewels gleam. Where the ruby’s beam. Where the colors of all skies, And “ the beryl lies a ,” Such is thy unfetter’d line. Saint and sage benign. Thou shalt teach us from on high How to live and die. How the golden hues of love Tinge the fading grove, Dressing Autumn’s drear decay With the gleams of day. Thou the channels of Heaven’s grace Thro’ all time shalt trace. And thine untun’d eloquence Its deep stores dispense. In thy soul laid manifold On the floor untold. See his Hymn on Heaven. 62 THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. Early seen at Heaven’s high door Thy full soul to pour. If of Angel’s minstrelsy Ought should wander nigh. Watching for a sweeter strain Wilder’ d man to gain. Prison’d friend of martyr king. Never flagg’d thy wing. Upward still thy spirit draws In life-giving laws. Training with stem discipline To the towers divine. W)t Oratories. Consolations and Strongholds. “ When thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret : and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.” St. Matthew vi. 6 DISTANT CHURCH MUSIC. Y spirit hath gone up in yonder cloud Of solemn and sweet sound — the many-voic’d Peal upon peal, and now The choral voice alone At door of Heaven. My soul is all unsphered, Soaring and soaring on the crystal car Of airy sweetness borne, And drinks ethereal air Amid celestial shapes. I hear a voice Alone before the Trinal Majesty, Singing the Eternal Lamb, While Silence sits aloof. 64 THE ORATORIES. Twilight of unimagin’d Deity It seems, save where, like thousand setting suns. Heaven’s portal darkly gleams, — He hath gone down to man. Far hath He thrown His crown to stars of Heaven, And to the skies His clear empyreal robe. To lightning His bright spear, And to the clouds His bow a . A crown awaits Thee there, but not of gold, — And who is she Thy coming harbingers ? No starry watchmen near Creation’s cradle set. No kingly pursuivants. But sackcloth-rob’d Heard stilly ’tween the torrent’s fitful sound, And wild-bird’s cry forlorn, ’Mid rocks, and desert caves Repentance’ voice ! — Who on Thy goings wait ? No sun-bright legionry, but Sorrow meek. Pity meek Sorrow’s child. And Peace of Pardon born. a The idea is from Herbert, and carried on in the last stanza. THE ORATORIES. 65 While Hope prepares her gleaming car ; from high. With arms outstretch’d, out of a golden cloud Righteousness leaning down Hath kissed exil’d Peace. To gates of darkness hies black-hooded Night, And on her waning brow lingers the Moon, With silver bow to greet Uprising glory’s Sun. E’en now upon th’ horizon Morning walks Doffing to Night her mantle grey, and stands In gold and gleaming vest. And glittering shafts reveal’d. Ye waiting at th’ eternal gate, with robes Of penitential Sorrow, wash’d in blood. And odorous lamps well trimm’d, Your long-loved Lord to greet. Lift up your eyes ! E’en now His coming glows Where, on the skirt of yon Heaven-kissing hill. The trees stand motionless Upon the silvery dawn. Deep Ocean treasures all her gems unseen, To pave an archway to the eternal door, And Earth doth rear her flowers To strew your heavenly road. F 66 THE ORATORIES. The Stars on high shall be your diadem. The Skies shall lend their rays to weave your robes. And Iris stain the woof. Sons of th’ eternal morn. THE ORATORIES. 67 THE DOXOLOGY. I. The threefold heavens, of glorious height. Are made One dwelling for Thy might, Set upon pillars of the light. The earth, and sea, and blue-arch’ d air, Do form below One temple fair. Thy footstool ’neath the heavenly stair. Sun, Moon, and Stars, in Heaven’s great deep Their living watch obedient keep. Moving as One, and never sleep. II. Angels and men, and brutes beneath. Make up Creation’s triple wreath, Which only liveth in Thy breath. In fish and birds, and beasts around, One wondrous character is found, The skirt which doth Thy mantle bound. 68 THE ORATORIES. And Nature’s three fair realms convey One note through this our earthly day. Dying in distance far away. III. With Three arch’d roofs Thy temple springs. Where music spreads melodious wings. And all around One glory brings. And Future, Past, and Present Time, Together build One shrine sublime. That doth prolong the ample chime. While spirit, soul, and clay-born seat. Warm’d by the living Paraclete, Shall be Thy threefold mansion meet. THE ORATORIES. 69 THE ATHANASIAN CREED. D warning voice, from Truth’s eternal shrine Proceeding, where the great Archangel sings, Through three-fold arching piles, on sounds divine. And the live thunder of melodious wings Rising in adoration ! Mother dear, To thy mysterious breast my spirit clings Then most, when that appalling voice I hear : — There at the sound of those thy stern alarms I hide, and on the world look back and fear ; For she would tempt me from thy sheltering arms, And stop thy voice, which baffled Pride disdains. And the dread sound of never-dying harms. Vain thought ! th’ o’erwhelming Future yet remains, Though Ebal and Gerizim’s voice be still, The everlasting Now and penal chains. And from Thine accents hide us as we will. Death draws aside the screen. Then wherefore flee With birds of darkness to the caves of ill ? 70 THE ORATORIES. Rather in garb of our deep poverty Let us stand forth before Thee, not to gaze. But tremble, with the heart’s adoring knee, Full in the light of Thy meridian blaze. Nor leave Thou us in the dark mysteries Of our bad hearts to wander, and in ways Of our own darkness, lest we, seeming wise, Shrine Thee in shape of some foul deity, And in our unbaptized phantasies Think wickedly that God is such as we, — Some Jove, or Pan, or Ashtaroth unclean, — So may we ’scape Thy judgment. — Dread the : Of glory which enshrouds Thee, yet unseen, And in the path whereon Thy light doth burn, Ere that we pass th’ inevitable screen, Well need we walk and fear : to Thee we turn For help, nor on Thy glory gaze too bold. O sternly kind, and kindest when most stern, Ancient of Mothers, in thy barriers old With them that love thee is best liberty ! Fain would we hide us in thy sheltering fold. By thee baptiz’d into the Eternal Three, Blest Arbitress of holiest discipline. In the world’s freedom let me not be free, THE ORATORIES. 71 But follow mine own will in following thine. To Christ our Rock with dripping weeds we cling. While Ocean roars beneath ; fled to thy shrine May Heaven’s own Dove, on Contemplation’s wing. Be o’er us, nurturing each holier choice, And all around thy calmer influence bring. Then let me ever hear thy awful voice, Deep warning, deep adoring : while we sing We tremble, but in trembling we rejoice. 72 THE ORATORIES. FAST DAYS. While to the tomb we tread this pilgrimage. Sorrow will wait upon us, and be ours E’en as our shadow, where on Life’s dim stage Falls the celestial light from Eden’s bowers. Then it were wise to win her for our friend. Who must be our companion, so to gain That she may help us to our journey’s end. So may we love her yoke, nor feel the chain. Lest we should exile take for home of ease. Shadows for truth, for shore the billow’s breast. Our trial for acceptance and release. The vale of tears for mountain of our rest. Such Sorrow is sent down by pitying Heaven, The mantle which from Jesus fell below. To His own chosen in His mercy given, The last best boon He could on earth bestow. Nor wonder that the widow’d Church should sound Of sadness : those are mourners Christ hath blest. Who watch with her their annual, weekly, round. And in obedience find the promis’d rest. THE ORATORIES. 73 A shelter from ourselves her sacred call. Lest the self-humbling soul might haply make Her penance glory — lest her mourner’s pall Self-form’ d, for trappings of her pride she take. Nor deem such penance hard, nor fondly dream Of Herod’s ease in the imperial hall, But seek the Baptist by the desert stream. And thou shalt see the light on Jesus fall : Yea haply so be brought with Christ to pray In His own secret mount — or in His word Where Moses and Elias witness pay, To watch, till Heaven -reveal’d ye see the Lord. Nor deem such penance hard — thence from the soul The cords of flesh are loos’d, and earthly woes Lose half their power to harm, while self-control Learns that blest freedom which she only knows. Thence is our hope to manlier aims subdued. And purg’d from earthly mists the mental eye. To gird herself with growing fortitude, To see the gates of immortality, Beyond the vale of woes ; while far between. In watchings and in fastings train’d of yore. Martyrs and Saints, in glorious order seen. Follow the Man of Sorrows gone before. 74 THE ORATORIES. Now sphered in orbs of light to us they call : The eve precedes with penitential woes, And ushers in the holier festival. The shadow which their glory earthward throws. Many the gates of Hell, and every gate Is but each vice which man’s dark temper sways, And Christ alone can raise our fallen state. In fasting found, and prayer, and watchful ways. They stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other side, until the going down of the sun. Exodus xvii. 12. ©[)£ transepts. psalms. Vlty lEptstle antJ (Sospd. All the day long I have stretched forth my hands unto a disobedient and gainsaying people. Homans x. 21. I&ijt Xortf) transept. THE PSALMS. [OR JESUS CHRIST IN PROPHECY.] I. Not to those heights where holy Herbert sits, Or Heaven- taught Ken awakes the sounding wire. Nor where beyond the shade of Ambrose flits O’er sacred streams, or leaning o’er the lyre Peace-loving Nazianzen leads the quire, — Not to those haunts where saintly men have trod. And hung their harps, but further yet and higher Where Siloa’s stream, woke by th’ unearthly rod. Springs forth a fountain pure beneath the mount of God. 76 THE NORTH TRANSEPT. II. Yea, and the Church shall love that hallowed founi Rivers of God, blest scenes, the secret height Where David sat, his Sion’s holy mount, More than all-glowing strains of human spright, For Heaven-born Truth shrinks from subluna' light, And rather wears the veil of David’s hymn Than the full glare of day, and oft from sight, In parable and type and shadows dim, There hides her holier face and wings of Seraphim. III. By figure, rite, and storied mysteries The glorious light, in highest Heaven that dwells Tempers its image to man’s feebler eyes, Softly reflected in terrestrial wells. While to each rising thought true Wisdom tells Of purer heights — w T hate’er of good desire. Of love, or thought serene the bosom swells. There they on bodiless wings to Heaven aspire, And gain, perchance, a gleam of that diviner fire. THE NORTH TRANSEPT. 77 IV. While Hope with Sorrow mingles, as if still We walked in Eden, and felt God was nigh; Or ’neath the shade of some o’erhanging hill An Angel guest attun’d his melody To better things, which hidden are on high, Blending therein Mortality’s poor tale Of sad offendings ; while we listening by Discern his lineaments, all silvery pale, lightening the mists that move in Death’s dim- peopled vale. V. O griefs of fall’n mankind and sympathies Of Heaven, like quiet stars that on the night Look forth, and tell of their own happier skies. There Christ Himself conceals from ruder sight Himself, and His own sorrows infinite, Beneath the robe of fleshly types, which hide His glory, dimly seen in skirts of light, — Himself, and in Himself His suffering Bride, Present to strengthen her, ta’en from His bleeding side. 78 THE NORTH TRANSEPT. VI. As when the Moon, hid in some woodland maze, Lights all with her own meek magnificence. And oft displays her shadows — the rapt gaze. Kindling at her retiring more intense, Labours to view her ; she from her dim fence ! Oft opens on the glade no more conceal’d ; Thus thro’ the lore, lit by His influence. The Christian’s Lord oft stands, to sight reveal’d. And shews, in clearer heights, His all-protectin shield. VII. From everlasting are His goings, this Is the deep note, wherewith his widow’d Dove Pleads, and her note of Sorrow blends with His. Here, ’mid the unfailing citadels above. His children walk with Him ; here with Him prove Pilgrims on earth below, from age to age ; Here, link’d in suffering, may they learn His love, And hide their joys and sorrows in the page. Wherein with Him He blends His ransom’d heritage. THE NORTH TRANSEPT. 79 VIII. Ye holy strains, on David’s harp that hung, Tabor and little Hermon to your call, And Jordan’s willowy banks responsive sung : Ye with soft wings, like Angel friends, when all Seem’d to forsake, have sooth’d the Martyr’s thrall, Some high-soul’d Laud, in suffering fortitude ; Some captive Taylor by his prison wall ; And one by Cherwell’s banks, in happier mood, lath woo’d your choral voice to soothe his solitude a . IX. Nor learned cell alone, or sacred pile — Made animate with sweetness, flowing o’er The music-rolling roof, and branching aisle — But widow’d Eld, that, in some cottage poor, Sitteth alone by the eternal shore. With your deep inspirations hath been young ; Your beauteous torch hath lit Death’s shadowy door, And strengthen’d by your staff, and cheering tongue, ’he failing spirit walks unfading groves among. a Bishop Horne. 80 THE NORTH TRANSEPT. X. Oh, my sad soul is weary with Earth’s wrong, — Evil of men, and worldly vanity; — Give me the music of your heavenly song, — Sion, nurse of our hopes, for thee I sigh ; — Give me the music of your minstrelsy. Which hath its echo in the heart alone ! Oh, waken up that Angel company, That sleeps in your deep chords — from your pur throne Come forth, lift my weak soul to your untroubled zone XI. Come to me, Angel guests ! whatever springs In me of passion, or of earthly pride, Shall flee at sound of your celestial wings ; O gentle Psalmist, other thoughts abide With thee, how have I scared thee? to my side |i Come again, tranquil spirit, oh, unrol Thy sweet melodious fulness o’er the tide Of my wild tossing thoughts, touch my sad soul, And let me own again thy mastering soft control ! THE NORTH TRANSEPT. 81 XII. Spirit of prayer and praise, with gentle hand Thou lead’st me, calming every wayward mood, Thro’ storied scenes and haunts of sacred land. Unto a dim and shadowy solitude. Where One is in a garden dropping blood. Lo, here comes one with accents of a friend b ; Gethsemane, is this thy night so rude ? On yon dark mound the cup of woe they blend c ; There ’neath mysterious shades they for Thy robe contend d . XIII. How shall we learn in this our fleeting breath The scale and measure of mortality. Save communing with Thy life-giving death. With stern bereavement’s haggard family Thy sole attendants ? How else learn to die. Or how to live ? How else our strength discern, Our true desert, our price, our misery. Our happiness — how else our Maker learn. The depth, the breadth, the height of Mercy’s bounteous urn ? b Ps. xli. 9. c Ps. lxix. 22. d Ps. xxii. 18. G 82 THE NORTH TRANSEPT. XIV. And where shall we behold th’ Eternal Son, Save in these strains, wherein the car of Love In greatness of its strength is travelling on. Through Time’s dark shadows which around her move ? Her silver wings here plumes the earth-soil’ d Dove, And feels again life’s sunshine gleaming warm ; Here Hope, Devotion’s handmaid, fain would prove The covenant bow encircling her bright form. And lets her radiant vest flow o’er the cloud and storm. XV. ’Tis thus Imagination’s airy swell Bears on the soul, and fills her buoyant wing ; Oft hath she come with foulest airs from Hell ; Here purer gales their sweet compulsion bring From the fresh haunts of never-fading spring ; Sure thus to school our fancies it were wise. That they may wait on our eternal King, Gathering meek thoughts upon His praise to rise, Else vanities they wed, and lurk in earthly guise. THE NORTH TRANSEPT. 83 XVI. Ever, sweet Psalmist, lead the sounding key. Humbling to duteous calm the thoughts that move Responsive to our sacred Liturgy, That they on holier wings may soar above To Mercy’s seat. O Bard of Heaven-taught love. Striving in vain thy wounded heart to hide. Soul- stricken mourner, like the bleeding dove Deeper and deeper clasping ’neath her side The barbs that drink her life, and in her heart abide. XVII. Still let me cull thy flowers of Paradise, Sweet flowers, that ever bloom on Sorrow’s brink. Water’d with penitence and holy sighs ; And when within me my weak soul doth sink, Oft at thy living fountains let me drink, Springs which no wintry fetters can repress, Nor sun, nor scorching whirlwind, cause to shrink. — I hew’d me wells in the world’s wilderness. Wearied and worn I sought, and found but bitterness. 84 THE NORTH TRANSEPT. XVIII. I sought and found but bitterness — and now. Blest Tree of Calvary, do thou abide In the deep fount whence our affections flow, Which else were Marah e . How hast thou sup- plied Light ’mid my wanderings, and at my side Rais’d dearest friends, pitying my lost estate. In whom I something of Thy light descried, And learn’d of them my former self to hate, Led onward by the hand toward the heavenly gate ! XIX. These are but ministers of Thy sure love. By which Thou gently to Thyself wouldst lead, And now what would I seek, but Thee above ? Our goodliest friends on earth from Thee proceed. And unto Thee return ; but our deep need Thou only in Thy fulness canst sustain : Upon Thine earthly plenteousness we feed. But yet the choicest gifts of Earth disdain. And feel in every nook around our house of pain. e Exodus xv. 23. THE NORTH TRANSEPT. 85 XX. And find Thee not. Then in that sacred chord We hear from unseen heights a glorious song, Of panoplies divine and shield and sword, — Faith in unearthly armour bold and strong. And strains which to Thy ransom’d host belong. Then, where from high the showering sunbeams fall Amid th’ encircling mists of grief and wrong, Is seen to rise th’ Eternal City’s wall. While Earth responds to Heaven, and deep to deep doth call. XXI. For Truth beside that crystal Sea doth stand, Spher’d in her own bright radiance, like a shrine, And holds a mystic lamp in her right-hand, Fill’d with the light of Poesy divine ; And wheresoe’er she doth that light incline. Something celestial shines on us awhile. And we with yearnings of lost Eden pine, Man’s heart its fulness labouring to beguile. Unburden’d of itself doth to her music smile. 86 THE NORTH TRANSEPT. XXII. Thus when with man’s deep soul God’s Spirit wrought. They spoke of things more glorious than they knew, Blending prophetic dreams with mortal thought. Then fabling bards the shadows of the true From other wells of inspiration drew; The great dissembler came with wings of light. O’er meaner things th’ enchanter’s mantle threw. Kindling to burning thoughts th’ enraptur’d sprite. Like meteors that would vie with living stars of light. XXIII. Then the whole world with fabled heroes rung. Men like to gods, and gods more frail than they; O’er his lone harp the great Pelides hung, Sitting by Ocean’s solitary spray ; And the fam’d Bard from Chios bent his way; Of mighty wars the marvellous minstrel told. Earth and Heaven leagu’d in battailous affray. Prowess in arms and high achievements bold. And that his homeless chief in wanderings grown old. THE NORTH TRANSEPT. 87 XXIV. But one there was who sat by Siloa’s stream And converse held with God ; a poet’s tear He shed, but not of hate or love the theme. He too had borne the helmet and the spear. And now the crown of Eastern Kings did wear ; With nobler thoughts his strains arise and cease. With One Whose presence to his soul was dear. His strains they were of holiness and peace, And One that should arise Creation to release. XXV. He sang of the commandments wise and true. Which hold the Heavens and Earth in golden chain, And man’s delinquency to vengeance due, That golden chain all powerless to retain, By which he might those blissful seats regain. He sang of things before his spirit brought. Visions of God, and mansions far from pain: N or fathom’d half his labouring fancy wrought, Lost in the Infinite of his own holier thought. 88 THE NORTH TRANSEPT. XXVI. He sang of the commandments true and just, Of Him Who rolling stars holds in His hand, And hearts of men who in His guidance trust ; He call’d on earth and Heaven, on sea and land. With him before th’ Eternal throne to stand. On trees, and brutes, and stars before His throne To stand, united in fraternal band. The glories of their common Lord to own, And sing their great Creator, Three in One. XXVII. He sang of the commandments just and good. Sole rest of man below and joy above : And oft his earthly weeds at Siloa’s flood. Rent by turmoils with which his spirit strove. He wash’d in streams of all-pervading Love, And put on garments of celestial Praise. Then was God’s Presence seen in all that move. As when the sun, all arm’d with glittering rays. Comes forth from night’s dark tent, and o’er Heaven’s archway strays. THE NORTH TRANSEPT. 89 XXVIII. He sang of the commandments good and great, Without which, mirror’d in the heavenly glass. There were no concord in angelic state. Nor harmonies on high. All earth as grass Shall fade away, the skies to nothing pass. Born of the Breath of the life-giving Word These living laws shall, from the dying mass, Lead to the presence of th’ Eternal Lord, And better strength to run His high behests afford. XXIX. Ye laws that walk in starry mansions, sweet As melodies of mountain pipe, which fill The frame responsive and obedient feet. So would I listen to your sounds, until Ye might to action stir my sluggard will ; I would be deaf to all but your deep tongue. And run your heavenly ways : by your dread thrill May I to duteous discipline be strung, Till in your freshening bloom I grow for ever young. In the midst of the street, and on either side of the river, was there the Tree of Life— iSortf) m%\t. ■pottle Htslc. Soutf) aisle. Qty UlortJ’s ^rawtr. Scripture. ®&e ©reeH. And the leaves of the Tree were for the healing of the nations. Rev. xxii. 2. ®f}e i&ortf) THE LORD’S PRAYER. I. Varieties in Nature combined with identity. II. The same to be observed in the Lord’s Prayer. III. A Para- phrase of it in the Baptismal Service. IV. In the Daily Prayers. V. In the Litany. YI. In the Ante-Communion. VII. In the Post-Communion Service. VIII. In the Mar- riage Service. IX. In the Burial Service. X. Its sacred- ness and mysterious depth. XI. Its divine origin , and the future hopes contained therein. XII. Its effect in private devotion in the different ages of life. XIII. The Conclusion. Oh, that I knew how all thy lights combine, And the configurations of their glory ! ***** Such are thy secrets ; which my life makes good, And comments on thee. For in every thing Thy words do find me out. Herbert. I. The Moon upon her silver height Seems varying with the varying night ; Still varying seems, though still the same. Since out of Evening’s door she came ; 92 THE NORTH AISLE. To lead some traveller journeying on. Her cheering mantle o’er him thrown. First issues forth with burnish’d crest Looking upon the golden west, — A knight in virgin armour drest. Pledging herself companion sure Thro’ hours of darkness to endure : Then seems descended from her tower To kindle up some wintry bower:] And turns the leafless branches bright Into an hermitage of light, Or temple strange of living gold With Gothic traceries manifold. Then silently breaks forth to view, Walking along the sea of blue ; Anon with rising clouds contending, And with their gloom her glory blending ; They gather ’neath her steps of brightness, A pedestal of glowing whiteness. Thus leads thro’ night, then melts away Into the sunshine of the day. With brow unchang’d the while she dwells. In Heaven’s serener citadels. But seems with us as here we range To thread the path of interchange. THE NORTH AISLE. 93 Who live beside the solemn Sea, And love his simple majesty. Still ever new, in alter’d mien His untransformed shape have seen. Now as they sit his margin nigh. He lifts his hands and voice on high. No thought can trace his hidden treasure, His beauty, strength, or vastness measure. Now while they other scenes pursue. The hills between, in arching blue, He gathers in his silver length All darkly to a bow of strength. — Now man’s meek friend, upon his breast He bears him hous’d in sea-born nest. — Now God’s unsullied temple fair. For man hath left no traces there. — Now aye unchang’d, yet ever changing. To caves unfathom’d boundless ranging ; Now seems to lay his vastness by To minister to thought and eye. A faithful Friend, best boon of Heaven, Unto some favour’d mortal given, Tho’ still the same, yet varying still, Our each successive want to fill. Beneath life’s ever fitful hue To us he bears an aspect new. 94 THE NORTH AISLE. Round childhood’s path a happy charm, In age a tried supporting arm ; A chastening drop in cup of gladness, A light to paint the mists of sadness : To cheer, to chide, to teach, to learn, Sad or severe, serene or stern. Whatever form his presence wears That presence every form endears. Till Faith descries in that dear love The messenger from One above. Faint emblem of a better Friend, Who walks with us till life shall end. II. E’en such in its simplicity Containing things for man too high. The holy Prayer which Jesus taught ! A well too deep for mortal thought. But where his want may ever turn. And draw with ever- welcome urn. On childhood’s dawn it doth unfold Its treasures, and when life is old Unfolding still yet all untold. Ever transform’d to meet our needs, Oft as Devotion counts her beads, THE NORTH AISLE. 95 As if those beads had caught the light, In her celestial girdle bright. But each with its own colours dight. Thus whensoe’er that Prayer is heard. Fresh thoughts are in each solemn word ; An orb of light, come from the skies. To kindle holy Liturgies ; It gathers and gives back their rays. Now turn’d to prayer, and now to praise. Thus is Thy word, unearthly wise, A fire that lights each sacrifice ; ’Tis that, which in Thine earthly shrine, Clothes our desires with form divine, To enter so more worthily The place of Thy dread Majesty. Upon that incense doth arise A holy Angel to the skies, And there, all cloth’ d with other wings, ’Neath th’ Intercessor’s feet it springs. Yea, could we see within that cloud Of incense, from its earthly shroud Its glorious fulness evermore Unfolding to the heavenly door. We there, reveal’d to mortal eye. Should Angels, on glad ministry. Ascending and descending see. 96 THE NORTH AISLE. III. In the Baptismal Service. First on Baptismal waters bright It seems to move, a face of light. And when around we kneel and pray, The holy accents seem to say, “ Our Father, freed from error’s chain, May we Thy children be. At this blest Fountain bom again To filial liberty. All things are changing. Thou the same, Thou art our heavenly home ; Be hallowed here our Father’s Name, Until His kingdom come. Lo, to Thy kingdom here below We little children bring. For to that kingdom such we know The meetest offering. That they in Thee may here put on Thy kingdom’s panoply ; And in the path of duty run, Like children of the sky. THE NORTH AISLE. 9 Oft as breaks out their mother’s stain. While they advance to Heaven, Children in love may they remain, Forgiving and forgiv’n. Let nought allure them from Thy word. Or tempt their spirits frail, But should they fall, yet, blessed Lord, Let evil not prevail. But when our Childhood’s morn was ending, And we ’neath holy hands were bending 3 , Beside that altar’s witness-stone That prayer had caught an altered tone. The cheek with shame and hope was burning, To a lost Father’s house returning ; It seem’d to chide, and yet to cheer, And to that blending hope and fear It brought our endless birthright near. And from the rude world seem’d to sever, Binding us to that shrine for ever. rt At Confirmation. H 98 THE NORTH AISLE. IV. In the Daily Service. At morn or eve when worldly Care Would seek to breathe the calmer air Of Thy pure temple ; Peace is there. But not for her. At mercy gate Repentance stands, made wise too late. Half lifts the latch, as one in guise To enter, but with tearful eyes Sees her lost heritage, and sighs b . But watching for returning grief. The great Absolver with relief Stands by the door, and bears the key O’er Penitence on bended knee c : Then blending accents, sweet to save. Come like the gale on sullen wave, When Day is at his western cave. “ Our Father, Who dost dwell above, May we find rest in Thy dear love. And sanctify in heart Thy Name : Where else shall sinner hide his shame. b The Confession. The Absolution. THE NORTH AISLE. 99 When rising and departing Sun But numbers duties left undone. And nearer brings th’ Eternal throne ! May we, advancing that to meet. Feel daily more beneath our feet, The better strength which doth the will, And seeth Thee, and so is still : And borne on Thy sustaining arm. Which daily feeds, and keeps from harm. The wrath of man by love disarm. The sole assurance that we live. Is that we others thus forgive. And day and night, where shall we flee The wily Tempter, but to Thee ? Dim shadows range this earthly cell, The Kingdom and the Glory dwell With Thee, alone unchangeable.” V. In the Litamy. Who long in light of prayer abide, As in the Sun’s bright gushing tide, 100 THE NORTH AISLE. Find hidden stains break forth within. Like spots upon the leopard’s skin. Now spreading thro’ the ample shrine, Prayer sounds the seas of Love divine, And now the deeps of crime and woe Thro’ changeful scenes of Life below. Now Fear doth wake and onward press. Girding her loins with lowliness, Till seeing Thee she sinks from high. In thoughts of her deep poverty ; And with poor Bartimaeus blind Seeks in the dark Thy presence kind d ; Now with Thine accents, deep and clear. She holds Thy mantle in calm fear. “ Like'as a Father his own children loves. So unto those that fear Thee Thou art kind. For Thine own glorious name. Turn from us our deserts ! So may Thy Kingdom come, on whose blest shore These hosts of woe and crime shall war no more, But East and West be set Our sins and us between. d The Sentences before the Lord’s Prayer in the Litany. THE NORTH AISLE. 101 Strengthen and comfort, raise us and support. So may Thy will be done, as ’tis in Heaven : And dews of blessing fall On the fruit-bearing earth ! By all Thy works that we might be forgiven, Thy Love, Thy Prayer, Thy Baptism, and Thy Grave, From envy and from hate. Deliver us. Good Lord. Deliver us from the dark Tempter’s wiles. In Sorrows hour and in the hour of wealth. So ’neath our feet at last The Serpent may be laid.” ’Tis thus, by all Thy mercies old. By all our fathers have us told, Thus by Thy Love are we made bold. VI. In the Ante- Communion . But when the white robed Altar nigh. The chain was let down from on high. Which from His Cross unto His throne Doth bind His children all in one. As heavy-laden souls draw near To hear dread Sinai’s voice of fear. 102 THE NORTH AISLE. Responsively to our deep wound. That Prayer assumes another sound. “ Out of a world of grief and wrong, Where we have wandered all too long, To Thee our Father we return, Do Thou not spurn ! Thou art in Heaven, and we on earth. Then weigh us not by our own worth. May we henceforth in reverend awe So keep Thy law. That we may hallow Thy Great Name ! Lay on our lips Thine altar flame. And that from Thee no more we roam. Thy Kingdom come. For only they, who do Thy will. Shall Thine Eternal Kingdom fill. Then may we throughout this our night Walk in Thy Light ! Thou art our Father, only Good, Wilt Thou not give us that blest food ? We on Thine altar for Thine aid Ourselves have laid. THE NORTH AISLE. 103 Unworthy — yet in deed or thought. If our own brother hath done aught, As we on Thy forgiveness live, So we forgive. Around us are the shafts of ill, O hide us in Thy holy hill. That we in th’ evil day may stand, Holding Thy hand !” The cloud hath past, which hung thereon. And Moses and Elias gone e . And Thou art standing by alone. VII. In the Post-Communion. And now the fount of Love o’erflows. And the worn spirit finds repose ; Lord, at Thy feet, in thrilling fear. Lifts up her eye, and wipes the tear. And with Thy Prayer again draws near. “ Our Father, knit in Thy dear Son, In celestial union, Alluding to the Scriptures, i. e. the Law and the Prophets, which have been read before the Communion. 104 THE NORTH AISLE. Thy Name we hallow, and adore. Praising Thee for evermore. And hasten till Thy kingdom come. Which is our eternal home. May we till that blest palm be won. On the path of duty run. With Angels and Archangels high. And the heavenly company. Singing of Thine immortal love. As Thine Angels sing above. O daily from th’ angelic hall, This life-giving food let fall, And knit us in the holy tie Of ne’er-failing charity. That from Thine own parental sway. Nought may lead our feet astray. Ever attun’d in heart to sing Thee our everlasting King, Whose Glory is our home on high. And His name best Panoply.” Thus when Thy love hath made us strong, That Prayer becomes the pilgrim's song. THE NORTH AISLE. 105 VIII. In the Marriage Service. But lo, a small and silent train Is gathered ’neath the pictur’d pane. Where ancient Saints in light profound. Stand, like stern witnesses, around ; Whose rainbow hues now play below Fitfully on the vest of snow f : Tis bridal Love that doth repair To light her holy torch-light there. Varied as Morning’s eastern door. That Prayer hath other thoughts in store As on some dove’s soft mantling breast When vernal lights or shadows rest. There come forth interchangeably An emerald, gold, or silver dye. Which ’neath the secret colour lie. “ O Thou, of Whom all families In Earth and Heaven are named, may that Name, Which all our wills and wishes sanctifies. f The effect of light falling through the painted windows. 106 THE NORTH AISLE. Be hallowed in each household ; may the flame From off Thine Altar light the peaceful hearth. And patriarchal blessings crown the same ! A type of Thy true kingdom here on earth. An household, over which Thy holy Dove Broods, nurturing below to Heaven-taught worth. Angelic order, and harmonious love. The ministering elements in Thy hand lie. Open for them Thy storehouses above : — Their spirits clothe with the meek poverty Of the true Bridegroom, His law to fulfil, In mutual forbearing charity. Stand Thou about them night and day, that ill May not approach their dwelling, nor sin’s bane Tempt forth, then blast with death the wandering will. So rise they on that bridal mom again, Where all as Angels & Thy great Kingdom fill. And in Thine everlasting glory reign !” s “ They neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the Angels.” St. Mark xii. 25. THE NORTH AISLE. 107 IX. In the Burial Service. But lo, where by yon gleaming tower The Sun sinks to his western bower. As weeping mourners stand around. Like Evening dews there falls a sound On hearts by sorrow withered, — The words of Him Who woke the dead. “ O Father of the fatherless, to Thee We turn, sole Comforter, and seek release. When shall Thy better Kingdom come — and we Be gather’d ’neath Thy feet, and be at peace ? Thou giv’st and tak’st away, Thy Name be blest ! Fain would we have that Cup to pass away. But may Thy will be done ; our only rest To know that Thou art good, and to obey. Thy will be done on Earth, as ’tis in Heaven, Give us enough each day to bear us on ; ’Tis not our home, and as we have forgiv’n. Forgive us ere we die for Thy dear Son. 108 THE NORTH AISLE. Look on us, for, like leaves, we haste away, And are not ; to Thy mercy let us cling : Till we have pass’d this world of evil sway, Hide us beneath the shadow of Thy wing.” X. Thus hallow’d in Thy house of Prayer Each change, else leading to despair. Doth, like a pillar, heav’nward rise. On which are built our destinies. I thank Thee, oft as we are there And stand on the celestial stair. Thy words the key-note still return. Lest all too bold our fancies burn. As “ Holiness” on Aaron’s head, Which o’er his purple garments shed That felt but untold sanctity Of him who bears the Priestly key, O’ershadowing with awe profound Unto his tuneful skirts around. Or as on Aaron’s holier breast The glorious constellations rest. Enfolding “Light and Truth 11 ” from high. The voice of God in mystery. h Urim and Thummim. S^Aoxrts teal dA^0eto. Septuagint. THE NORTH AISLE. 109 Thus o’er each worship here below, A light divine that Prayer doth throw. If ’neath the Church’s parent shade ’Tis thus transform’d to meet our aid. How shall it not abide the proof For every want ’neath mortal roof? O thought too high for mortal sense. The lowliness, the confidence. Reposing love, retiring fear. Unspeakably combining there ! Within the wayside leaf, or flower. Is hid a temple of strange power, Of order fair a very world Beneath a vein’d envelope curl’d. All wondrous hid in viewless bars. Like a blue night of silver stars. ’Tis thus where’er Thy hand hath been, Tho’ oft by none but Angels seen : And here, conceal’d from careless eyes. In sheltering veils there folded lies. Within that Heaven-made prayer enroll’d. Simplicity most manifold ! Forms which surround Truth’s secret throne By varied name to mortals known. Are here united all in one ; 110 THE NORTH AISLE. The Eight that hold the heavenly door, Beatitudes of Gospel lore ; The number’d Graces which all he In bosom of true Charity ; The Fruits which round the branches twine. And gather o’er the mystic Vine \ Like fairest shapes, unchang’d above. Yet altering their mien and air. Throw varying shadows as they move O’er sunny earth and waters fair. Within this Prayer come from on high, Their embryo forms in secret lie, — Here are the roots which all supply. Like that dread image from the skies. Before and after having eyes : — Or like a cloud, with lustre sown. Where stars of the celestial zone Blend in a bright communion. O hidden wisdom, ever nigh, Then let me school mine ear and eye To unwind all thine harmony. ’Tis ever thus in holy things. The more we seek the sacred springs, * See Mr. Miller’s Sermons, Note to Sermon V. THE NORTH AISLE. More fresh and deep their bounty flows. More calm beneath the skies repose. Oft’ner we turn, more love we learn. And loving- more, more thither turn. For Prayer doth feeble Faith repair. And Faith repair’d doth kindle Prayer; Like Angel forms on either hand. They hold the Pilgrim thro’ life’s strand. From strength to strength both leading on In holy wondrous union. Thus lifting up our thoughts on high. We nearer bring the starry sky,— E’en thus for ever newly born Advancing into Heavenly morn. Blest words come from the holiest shrine. Ye that on Jesus’ lips divine. Ye that with Saints from age to age Have been throughout their pilgrimage ! In triumph and in agony Ye went between them and the sky, — A road where aiding Angels came ; May we in you partake their flame, Bond of strange union when we kneel, Think as they thought, and with them feel. With Saints on earth and Saints on high. Bound in mysterious sympathy ! 112 THE NORTH AISLE. By day and night there may we flee. As to a sheltering sanctuary. The refuge of a Father’s name Which only doth abide the same. Thro’ life, as change and chance succeed. That Prayer to Heaven doth bear our need, And with Thine inspiration warm Turns our dead thoughts to living form : As when goes forth Thy quickening breath, Kindling the wrecks and dust of Death Into the shapes of varied Life, Trees, flowers, and streams, all beauty rife, — Man, beast, and bird, one kindred strife, — Earth, Sea, and Sky, uniting raise A living temple to Thy praise. Thus have our earthly wishes turn’d To wings that have with glory bum’d, Fann’d into pure serene desires. They clothe them with celestial fires, Borne on the breath of our own Lord, And instinct with the living Word. But unto what shall we compare The boundless hopes embosom’d there ? How beauteous here the Moon at night Walks forth amid her hosts of light ; THE NORTH AISLE. 113 And Evening looks, a pilgrim sage, Out of his western hermitage ; And Earth and Sea, whose voices rise In solemn and dread harmonies ; Then what shall be the spirit’s home. When Thy true Kingdom shall have come ? If in the flower such beauty lies, Which blooms at morn, at evening dies ; And in each form of life around Mysterious wisdom hides profound ; What shall our heavenly bodies be When cloth’ d with immortality ? If in Thy guiding hand above The glorious hosts are seen to move. And all creation here below Thy daily ordering seems to know ; How much more Thine unseen control Must be around the human soul. Prepar’d, beyond the starry skies. To put on endless destinies ! XI. I said, as change and chance succeed, That Prayer doth Heaven- ward bear our need, — - When in this temple, greenly dight, And arch’d o’er with its roof of light, i 114 THE NORTH AISLE. Our childhood woke to earth’s unrest. That Prayer came like an Angel guest. And in that pensive silent cell. Which heart of childhood knoweth well, It led our thoughts by gentle mien To dwell around a Friend unseen; And turn’d from earth the wondering eyes Unto a happier Paradise. When we were grown to riper years, Woo’d by a world of hopes and fears. Each morn and evening it would come. And lighting up the silent room Would oft forgotten still intrude On evening’s holier solitude, A gentle witness standing nigh Of things that should not be put by. More and more to our manlier sense Faith’s treasur’d stores it doth dispense, A key that opes omnipotence : It can the mountains set afar. Which our obedience seem to bar. But if not made in love our own It is a witness of stern tone ; Or seems with parting wings to go. And leave us to the world below. THE NORTH AISLE. 115 When age hath come, ere we depart. That Witness takes the Judge’s part, — The Judge’s part, which serves to prove Thoughts chain’d below, or train’d above. Of character the form and measure. Of our desires, our hope, and treasure : Whether in converse with the sky We strength have gain’d to walk on high ; With thoughts to our true Father led. Content below with daily bread : Or whether in low dreams of earth Forgotten lies our better birth. XII. Thro’ life, as change and chance succeed. It thus doth vary to our need, And to the faith-illumin’ d sense Expandeth its magnificence. Said I, ’twas like the silver Moon, Companion thro’ night’s wintry noon ? Yea, and I deem it not too bold. Could I its treasures half unfold : ’Tis fraught with goodness all Thine own. Whilst Thou, our Sun, from sight art gone. Lo, earth-born cares are at its rising riven, And wither’d hopes have caught the holier hues of Heaven ! 116 THE NORTH AISLE. Said I, ’twas like the solemn Sea, So simple in sublimity. Transform’d to meet each changing scene. And glass Heaven’s face dark or serene ? Man’s hand hath been on all beside. Thy holy footsteps there abide, Tho* all too deep for mortal pride. In that baptismal flood serene Still would I wash, and still be clean. Said I, ’twas like a constant Friend, Whom we would hold when life shall end ? Yea, it shall ever be to me In solitude best company : And a sweet spell when friends are nigh, A presence felt in silence by. Yea, while we walk with cloud and shade. And meteor lights our path invade. Let not a wish within me burn, But first unto that Prayer I turn ! And, oh, may I at life’s dim close Know of that Prayer the calm repose ! aissU. HOLY SCRIPTURE. I. Its consolations and guidance as supplied in the Daily Service. II. The same continued. III. Its secret meanings. IV. Disclosed to obedience, and in the day of visitation. V. The fall — Abraham. VI. The wilderness — Canaan. VII. The varied teaching in Job, Proverbs , and Ecclesiastes. VIII. The Prophets under temporal evils disclosing Christ. IX. The kingdom of Heaven upon earth. X. Christ’s Pre- sence in His Church. XI. Forerunners of the Day of Judg- ment. XII. A confessional prayer. Our mirror is a blessed book, Where out from each illumin’d page We see one glorious Image look All eyes to dazzle and engage. The Christian Year. I. “ A little further lend Thy guiding hand,” A little onward, Heaven-descended Guide ! This scene will soon be o’er, where Hope and Fear Busily twine the thread of hurrying life ; 118 THE MIDDLE AISLE. And this strange house, where the o’er-arching blue Bends o’er us, from whose dark aerial caves The Day and Night, on Time’s alternate watch. In solemn interchanges come and go. And Winter and swift Summer hasten by So stilly ; soon its portal will be past, — E’en now my shadow on the mountain side Is lengthening, — hues of Evening o’er me fall. Thy guiding hand a little further on, Whate’er Thou art that thro’ unravelling time Leadest me on ! for oft Thy hand I feel, And tho’ amid life’s solitudes I droop Unmindful, oft beside me in the gloom. And oft’ner still behind, ’mid travell’d scenes As back I bear my view, celestial tracks I see, and “ skirts of an unearthly friend.” Yet not so much, that, while I wondering tread Th’ unfoldings of Thy silent Providence, Thou giv’st to feel Thy kind withholding chain. And gentle leading ; — not so much for this, I thank Thee, heavenly Father, Friend, and Lord, As that each morn and eve, that hasten on My days to number, to the homeless heart. Which turns from fairest scenes unsatisfied. Wearied with vain pursuits, and vainer end. Thou in serener dwellings dost disclose THE MIDDLE AISLE. 1 The Kingdom of Thy treasures, new and old. — Oft some arm’d Saint, who saw th’ Invisible, And in that strength bore heathen gates away. Or swordless slew the giant ; — oft deep thoughts Revealing, in Thy Gospel’s bosom laid. Thus may Thy Church within her daily arms Take me, and with her blessing let me go, — But not with her depart her accents sweet. Thus be my loins girded with holier hope. And discipline, and penitential thought. Led by the hand of self-rewarding care. Nor know I aught beside to buoy the soul Against the weight of her own solitude. Aim-less and object-less ; or, what is worse, Fever’d pursuit, and rest-less followings on Of the impassion’d being, meteor lights Which leave at last to deeper loneliness. Thence is the soul attun’d to secret spells Of that eternal music heard in Heaven, Albeit hush’d by ruder sounds of Earth, Yet pure and deep as the celestial spheres. Which calm the wayward spirit, and reveal Other pursuits, and ends which end not here ; A light that brighter burns unto the close ; A feeling of immortal youth within. That while these earthly weeds and flowery hopes 120 THE MIDDLE AISLE. Drop from us, looks to an enduring home ; A sense of reconcilement oft renew’d. And power to throw aside the darts of care, Temptation-proof, ethereal panoply. II. Thy guiding hand a little further on ! Thus doth Thy spirit walk with soundless tread In the outgoings of the mom and eve. Leading us on, unseen, unheard of man: Constant — as dews whose footsteps fall from Heaven, Noise-less, and not less balmy in their tread ; Gradual — as rays that build the golden grain ; Unseen — as gales that homeward bear the sail ; Dear — as awaken’d thoughts of absent home ; And soothing — as familiar strains from far, Long-lov’d, but dull to unaccustom’d ear. And sweet it were to steal from day to day From the rude thoughts and fever of the world. To sit upon that mighty river’s bank, Descending from the everlasting hills : To travel on its banks, and watch the flow Untouch’d by man, making free melodies. With multitudinous waters as it goes : — Such is Thy word, which thro’ our annual round Flows on its course, unfolding more and more, THE MIDDLE AISLE. 121 And gladdening scenes of life, which hath its spring Beneath the throne of God, and lingers not. But to th’ eternal ocean passes on. III. Mysterious deeps of wisdom, dimly known, Where fathom of man’s thought ne’er touch’d the ground. Who shall thy lessons reach, who shall descry His steps of light. Who in His boundless word The wilderness of waters walks unseen ? In this Thy visible house, mankind’s abode. Thy hand withdraws from search of human ken. Whene’er the depths we trace, there opes beyond An inner world, where Science lifts her torch, ‘And Wonder leads thro’ dim enchanted halls. And glorious links we see of heavenly mould. But cannot track the chain ; Thyself, unseen, Sittest behind the mighty wheel of things, Which moves harmonious, tho’ unheard below, Save when Thine order’d ways, at interval. Break forth, as falling on some traveller’s ear Musical notes, which make the landscape smile. The Hand that kindles up the rolling moon. Lights up the worm’s blue lamp beside our path ; And haply in Thy word there hidden lies 122 THE MIDDLE AISLE. Infinity, coil’d up in narrowest bound ; We on the surface walk, and know it not. The bird, that sits and sings upon the thorn. Knows not its Maker’s wonders, known to man : Man moves ’mid hidden things, to Angels known. Nor knows of aught, around, above, beneath, Where’er he turns, beside the path of life, Enough on earth to know. — O send Thou forth Thy Light and Truth from Thine unseen abodes, That they may lead me to Thy Holy Hill. Thou that hast made the heart and seeing eye. Give me to know Thyself, of all things else Let me be ignorant deem’d ; for Thee to know Is to know all that’s good, and fair below ; — Without Thee we are blind, but in Thee see Thy multitude of mercy far and wide. Thee good in all, and all things good in Thee. Thee only none can seek and seek in vain : Thus travelling thro’ the world’s lone desert wav a . If, with that Ethiop stranger, o’er Thy word I bend. Thy Heaven-sent guide is at my side. IV. Thy guiding light a little further on ! Shower on my heart Thy radiance, without which 3 Acts viii. 26. THE MIDDLE AISLE. 123 Thine own sure word were but a barren void, But ever and anon, as Thy calm light Falls on it. Thy deep fulness comes to view. Oft clouds and darkness all about Thee dwell. Till thoughts responsive wake with changeful life. And open all Thy word, as light or shade Fall on it, and fresh scenes arise to light. With life and infinite variety. Ever unfolding, as in scenes of Earth, Mountains, and plains, and streams, and land, and sea. As when upon a wild autumnal noon, Some traveller sits on airy cliffs, and sees The far- spread range below, where lights and shades In beauteous interchanges come and go. One scene comes forth to view, another fades. Trees on a distant line — then gleaming rocks, And woods, dwellings of men, and ’tween the hills O’er-arching, haply gleams the opening sea. And some lone bark in sunshine — then retires In shade — the nearer object comes to light Unseen before — and then on either side The multifarious landscape breaks to sight, Unseen, till the bright beam expands the view. Thus the unbounded fulness of Thy word Betokens Thy dread Glory veil’d beneath. Throwing the light and cloud Thy skirts around. 124 THE MIDDLE AISLE. Lend me Thy hand, celestial visitant, Into the inner chambers where Thou sitt’st Unfolding lessons of diviner lore ! Touch’d by th’ unearthly wand, ethereal doors Fly open, answering to the wondrous key. I seem behind this shifting scene of things Admitted, Heaven’s high counsels to behold. I seem to wander thro’ mysterious ways, — Shadows of other days, and other lights Around me, — such is Thy unfathom’d word ; And oft at every turn myself descry. Patriarchs, and Kings, and Prophets, great and good, Are hurrying all before us to the tomb. And cry aloud, “We seek another home.” I seem to walk through Angel-haunted caves. Lit by celestial light, not of the Sun, That leadeth to a kingdom far away. There as behind this screen, and sensual bar, I see a Hand that weighs us day by day. We, wrapt in earthly schemes are hastening on. And heed not ; while Thy Judgments walk the earth, Evils by mortals nam’d, and Mercy loves Beneath a cloud to veil her silver wings, To me still speaks Thy voice, myself I see, I see myself in each new scene reveal’d. THE MIDDLE AISLE. 125 V. Thy guiding hand a little further on ! Now Death on the new world in twilight dim Alighting, spreads his wings from pole to pole ; Lo, as the wily Tempter coils away, I hide me from my sins in coverts green. And think Thine eye beholds not, but Thy voice, ’Mid the dread stillness of the evening’s close, — Thy sternly-kind enquiring voice I hear : In wither’d and vile leaves I stand reveal’d. Anon a beckoning hand I see afar, It is the call that came to Terah’s son. Singling me out from old Euphrates’ bank. And bids me follow to a land unknown. I linger on, and hear not, but afar I see the holy Abraham journeying on Unto that heavenly Canaan, now awhile He leans on Haran’s tomb, now westward wends Unto the unseen City, built of God. Strong in celestial hope he walks on high. In Heaven -conversing solitude ; that sight Girds me with other strength, but loitering still Myself I see at every turn disclos’d. Wooing fair phantoms. He is travelling on He knows not whither, but serene and glad. Rests with no meaner things, no servant-heir 126 THE MIDDLE AISLE. Chosen awhile, but lifts his eye aloft Unto the unseen City, built of God. VI. Now like a widening river opes the scene ; A flying host is seen, and marvellous way. And sea on either hand, with watery walls. Heaven hath come down, and with life-giving touch Struck all the desert ; there where Nature pin’d. She hath forgot herself, and looks around — Rocks gushing, Angel’s food, the light, and cloud. The mountain mantled round with fire and smoke. And terrible voice. ’Tis desolate around, And far below stretches that livid sea, Where o’er his black domain the vulture sails To mountains far away, bright fruitful lands. Where God would bear them upon eagle’s wings. But Israel turns away, and fears, and pines ! It is the Christian thro’ life’s wilderness Numbering his forty years, and Mercy’s form Stretching her arms. ’Tis desolate around. But with new hopes Heaven opens in the wild. We knowing know not, but to Egypt turn. Like that fam’d Trojan in the Tyrian hall b Who ’mid the pictur’d host himself descried, b iEneid, b. i. 488. THE MIDDLE AISLE. 127 I start — and see myself in stern review. And lo, all life seems teeming with new thoughts. And other purposes ordain’d of old ! I thread a path replete with embryo life. Unwinding golden destinies, and oft Find me in a mysterious balance weigh’d. What are these washings, ceremonial chains, And all this flow of sacrificial blood ? The Holiest of Holies open stands. On that dread sorrowing Sabbath, which gives life To all the year, the great Atoning Day. — Christian, thou tread’st on solemn mysteries. Strange prophecies, and counsels laid in Heaven ; Dim clues, which thro’ Life’s winding labyrinth Lead on, emerging in ethereal day. If Wisdom lend her kind conducting hand. To my dark steps a little further on ! Now Israel sits in Canaan’s promis’d rest. The Lord like His own mountains stands around ; But sounds of arms are on the distant gale ; He sits, — but by his side his sword and shield. Before, an armed Angel leads the way. But Superstition’s haggard brow, behind. Gleams darkly, by each hill and green tree’s shade. While fitfully breaks forth the wandering moon On Canaan’s fallen towers. Is this the rest ?— 128 THE MIDDLE AISLE. I start and look around me — This the land, Ordain’d of old, the glad Inheritance ? The Peace beneath the Gospel’s sheltering vine ? The heavenly kingdom ?• Mammon reigneth here ; And Passion’s sevenfold host of Canaan born ! Amid a falling world we build again Their idol temples ! Thence arise to view Times heavy with dark signs, and days of old. And Noah stretching forth beseeching hands. Fearfully seen the type of darker days c ; Judgment is at the door, and even now With the dread Coming gleams the Eastern gate. We plant, and build, and hearing, hear it not. VII. Thy guiding hand a little further on, Into the treasures of Thine inner shrine ! O perfect energy of Thy deep word. With varied ends combining all in one. Like nature’s works, all one, all manifold ! Each hath its single lesson, each is part Of one great whole, that whole in each is found. Each part with th’ other blends, and lends its light. c As it was in the days of Noe, so shall it be also in the days of the Son of Man. St. Luke xvii. 26. THE MIDDLE AISLE. 129 One perfect whole, where earth and sea and skies Are mirror’d ; now at random thrown apart. In thousand scintillations far and wide, Each fragment bears the earth and sea and skies, : Each on the other throws its pictured form, I And all combine in one mysterious whole. There Wisdom varies oft her mien and form, i Now sits with Job, bow’d down to misery’s chain ; [Wonderful things from water, earth, and air. Approach her in the dismal solitude, — A wilderness all touch’d by fiery breath — The thunder and the lightning come to him, | The Behemoth is there, and mightiest forms From the dark lair of Nature’s hiding-place Come forth, to speak their Maker mightier far. There Patience sits, and drooping Penitence, That long had sought, and vainly sought relief. Her image eyes in Woe’s black flowing stream. And lifts her head by bitterness reviv’d. The scene is chang’d, and Wisdom by the gate Sits calling to the simple ones ; and now Her precepts are link’d beads of many hues. She bears the golden key to hidden stores. Rubies, and health, and plenteous barns, and wine, A crown of glory, or a sheltering shield. Apples of gold in silver pictures laid. K 130 THE MIDDLE AISLE. Wherein the Gospel’s light in secret burns, A tree of life, an ever-brightening path, N ow length of days, now ways of pleasantness, Now one that in an ivory palace dwells. Now terrors in her hand, and hell and death. Now in the whirlwind walks an armed man 3 . Thus, like the face of the autumnal night. She varies ; lo, anon her son she brings On the world’s highest stair, experience-crown’d b : O Royal Preacher, wondrous is thy voice. And deep thy tale of human vanity, Of nothing true but God, nor calm but Heaven! VIII. Thy guiding hand a little further on ! What visionary shapes now fill the gloom c . Of more than earthly wisdom, tho’ in grief O’er earthly things they hang their drooping form ? And who art thou with robes all rudely rent, Sitting beneath the lofty Lebanon, Thy realm a waste, and Solitude tlry throne ? Daughter of Salem, from what gate of strength Descending, sitt’st thou at the door of Death? And can our God cast off His own elect? Desolate Judah, lesson sad to us ! a The Proverbs. b Ecclesiastes. c The Prophets. THE MIDDLE AISLE. 131 Desolate Judah, sitting on the ground ! O thou, but little ’mid the nations known In arts or arms, (emblem of Hope divine By man despis’d,) O thou, but little known In arts or arms, but better known of God, — And could not this content thee, little one ? Euphrates’ bank, and Chebar’s distant flood. Have echoed to thy Jordan’s deep lament. Now all is vocal with prophetic strains, And Lebanon and Carmel find a voice, Kingdoms their mighty shadows cast before Going to ruin — Tyre, and Nineveh, And Babylon. Behind the fleeting scene Stern Retribution sits, and holds the scale. Where empires all are weigh’d, rebellious Pride With meteor lamp leads on to dusky Death. Meanwhile, as flows the stream of mortal things. There riseth up the mist of human woes. And, lo, that mist is skirted with the gleam Which harbingers the slowly-rising morn. And brightens more and more, as darker grows The gather’d cloud, until effulgent made With rays prophetic purpling all the dawn, Lo, it reveals the Sun of Righteousness, Streaming in light o’er the dim vale of life. And hills of immortality afar. 132 THE MIDDLE AISLE. IX. Thy guiding hand a little further on ! Now other ears we need, and other eyes. For semblance hath brought forth reality; The cloud the Sun, the night reveal’d the Day, Which from her open’d portals walks abroad. With messages of mercy to the poor. The volume is unfolded dav by day. Unletter’d hinds are greater than the proud, And pennyless old age is rich and young. Sequester’d ignorance is wiser far Than knowledge, in her city trappings dress’d. See, where combined in our diurnal round, There moves a twofold orb of light divine d . And throws th’ united gleam upon our path. Morning and Eve, lightening the narrow way. Thy guiding hand a little further on ! All things are now made new, another Sun Shines o’er us, and another Moon from high. Each passing day reveals a sacred step, Where thro’ life’s cave our Lord the burden bore ; And when received into a golden cloud Thy form is seen no more. Thy sacred voice In Apostolic warnings cloth’ d anew Is heard, as oft as Evening Shadows fall e . d The Daily Lessons. e The Evening Lesson. THE MIDDLE AISLE. 133 Thy guiding hand a little further on ! Man hath gone down unto a cheerless tomb, Dismays and doubts around, and all before Peopled with visionings of his sad mind. Doubting of good because deserving ill. Scarce daring to believe God’s mercy true ; When broke the Church amid the shining Heavens, With all her saints array’d in Jesus’ robe, Rejoicing in the light of other worlds, Beyond the dull house of mortality. As when one on a nightly journey wends With clouded Heavens around him, till from high Far on her nightly tower is seen the Moon, With one pale glimmering star, — then hills afar Come forth in biightness, promontories, seas. And hanging woods, and gradual breaks to view The infinite expanse, and all the stars ; He on his homeward way rejoicing goes . A little onward lend Thy guiding hand ! Thus daily may we gather better thoughts. And arm our souls with steadfastness, or learn That we have nought to gather, nought to lose, On earth, and in that knowledge learn our peace. Then welcome disappointment, and decay, Bereavement, and keen sense of lov’d ones lost, — * While not a star along the aerial hall. 134 THE MIDDLE AISLE. But solitude, and sterner forms of woe Lend their companionship amid the gloom — Full welcome, if they lead us, in Thy path. To cling the more to Thy parental hand. Far better than false gleams that lead us thence. And then desert us. Soon comes forth to view Upon her nightly watch the silent Moon, Ether’s blue arms around her, gradual breaks The infinite expanse, and all the stars; He on his homeward way rejoicing goes. Then by degrees is gather’d that within. Which more and more impels, and urges on Heavenward — himself unconscious of the Power; Like gales that swell unseen, and move at length The unheeding bark, or thoughts the unconscious frame. Thence he the spirit of obedience wears, Chains round the neck, and ornaments of grace. By others seen, but to himself unknown. Blest ignorance, the nurse of lowly thoughts ! X. A little onward lend Thy guiding hand ! The Sun now rises on the Minaret, And desolation lingers o’er the walls. THE MIDDLE AISLE. 135 Where Angels once, like its own mountain band. Stood round Jerusalem ; thro’ that blest realm Scarce doth a sacred track unharm’d remain. At Nazareth’s lone hill- side, or silent lake, (Dear lake, dear hills, where Thy blest eyes repos’d ! ) But in the living page thy steps abide. Fresh as of yesterday. Faith lights her lamp. And rising thence she sees Thee all around ; She walks the earth, in amice of the morn. And wheresoever the need of human woe Varies its shape, she finds Thee standing nigh. And burns to follow. Oft Thy presence lies Hidden in busy scenes, but as they pass, The parting step reveals Thy form Divine, And gentle dealings : as we backward bear The thoughtful eye, we see in vision clear. And lost occasions mourn. Oh, that we thence Might gain th’ enduring sense of Thy deep love. How in that light would things terrestrial wear Celestial colourings, that we no more Should droop, or in Thy Presence feel alone ! Thy guiding hand a little further on ! As when, amid her azure palaces, Mounts in her solemn state the Queen of night, Her airy pathway holds the floating web, Shook from her brow the silver clouds among : 136 THE MIDDLE AISLE. So doth Thy solemn memory here remain. Not now beheld at Abraham’s friendly door. In flaming bush, or Gideon’s threshing-floor. As man with man, or wrapt with Angel wings ; Not now beside the Galilean shore ; But where the widow’d mother walks bereav’d. Where Poverty and Blindness by the way. Where Innocence sits at the festal board. Or listening Penitence hangs down to mourn. Lend me Thy light a little further on ! Henceforth the Church is as the living shrine. Wherein the Angel of Thy presence dwells. About Thee thrown like an illumin’d cloud. She hand in hand with morning issues forth. And daily traversing the peopled globe Kindles mute forms, in which her Spirit dwells. Circling the earth with her celestial day. As with a radiant zone, while from her steps Night flies ; she on her path continuous wakes Her ancient prayers, and David’s holy song, From Ganges’ bank to these cold Western isles. Nor only thus, but veil’d in silvery mist With each she springs from the Baptismal fount, And half disclosing her celestial brow. She lends herself companion of the way. Seizing the trembler’s hand, and seeing things THE MIDDLE AISLE. 137 He sees not, forward leads him thro’ the night, And tries him oft in crooked and dark ways Of discipline, and penitential love. Till with her secrets she can trust his soul. XI. To my dark steps a little further on, As things here seen on earth — the Night — the Storm, — The Thunder — Pain — Unrest — and pale Remorse, Girding around with ever- during fire, And boding evil ; so within Thy word Dark auguries in terror seem to walk. And sterner premonitions blend with hope. The dread forerunners of the Judgment-morn. Let not these pass, like clouds which summer gilds. Lest shapes sublime and shadowy semblances Teach us th’ o’erwhelming substance to forego ; Lest flowers, which spring around the fount of truth. We gather for frail wreaths of poesy. Nor know our foulest selves reflected there. Lest of these mighty things w T e talk and feel Unprofited, and fail the will to do — The tabernacle deck with curious art. Forget the engraven word laid up within. Nor know the mercy-seat, and awful cloud. Thy guiding hand a little further on ! 138 THE MIDDLE AISLE. The Day and Night on their alternate watch, And Time’s bright sentinels that walk the sky. The Sun and Moon — ’tis written, doubt it not — Shall pass, and in the darkness make their bed : And we unloos’d out from this womb of things Shall on the mighty stair of Being climb. Unto the light a little further on ! Day after day that book is open laid, A day shall come, and cannot now be far, A day shall come, when last it shall be seen, — The universe, of Angels and of men, Shall stand around, and Christ Himself shall sit Upon the great tribunal, plac’d on high. And then that book shall be reopen’d wide, And we shall look upon the Judge’s face, And on that book — and then shall hear His voice. XII. Thy guiding hand a little further on ! O Thou sole End and Author of all hope. That hast reveal’d the sinner’s dwelling-place, And the eternity of Heaven and Hell, Look on us, teach us upon Thee to lean; O’er the dread gulf disclose Thy peaceful path ! For Thou art not in brain-sick ecstacy, That climbs the Heavens to light th’ unhallow’d torch, Fever’d Imagination’s fiery wing, THE MIDDLE AISLE. 139 Like vap’rous breath, which in the furnace mounts, Fann’d to a vitreous blaze, and hangs again In earth-born vapour on the vault above ; But in that viewless flame, from ashes bom Of Penitence, with lowlier wisdom wise, Born to a purer love, and onward bent To purge terrestrial dross, that trembling still In thankfulness, in lowliness, and love. With Anna and with Simeon, good of old. Waits in Thy courts : while still, from step to step. On stair by Israel seen, dwindle behind The towers of earth, and gradual grow before The immensities of Heaven. Oh, lend me wings. Ethereal Spirit, ere that stair of Heaven Be gather’d up into th’ enfolding clouds, And I be left in darkness, — low I sit In sorrow, — penitence-strick’n, and deep woe, — ’Mid shades of Death, Thine arrow drinks my blood. For I Thine innocent side have pierced deep. For I have pierced deep Thine innocent side. Thou Holy One, and I could sit and weep. But that Thou bidd’st me rise, and with Thy voice Of ever- varying seasons, day and night, And this eternity that stirs within. Thou bidd’st us stand not, but arise, and wash Our robes to meet Thee, and to trim the lamp. 140 THE MIDDLE AISLE. Bow’d with the o’erwhelming burden down to earth, I dared not look upon Thy bleeding brow; Like some poor Alpine wanderer, who in dreams, In powerless dreams, beholds th’ incumbent pile. Heavily over-hanging — threat’ning still. Still threat’ning to hurl down the gather’d Alp ; But now I trembling look to Thee, and, oh. If not to me the harp of Jesse’s son. Which bad the gloomy spirit part from Saul, In blooming-haired youth ; oh, for that harp. With which in later day, with sackcloth rob’d And Penitence, his overcharged heart Broke forth, and gave its sorrows to the strings. Of deep-ingrained guilt — of guilt that cleaves Unto the bone of life. Thee shall I sing, While passion round the heart with snaky wile Wreaths its dark folds, and pride, that foully feeds On praise of man, breeding distemper’d blood, And dons the pilgrim’s cowl and lowly weed ! Wash me again for Thine, and bind my wounds, For whom have I in Heaven but Thee alone ? And whom on earth — but Thee ? and well I know If I dare lean on aught but Thee alone, I mourn a broken reed and bleeding side . Oh, lead me but a little further on ! Oh, now, I now behold Thee, who Thou art. THE MIDDLE AISLE. 141 Celestial Visitant ! I see Thee now Confess’d, and my revealed God adore ! Stay with me, for the evening goes away; 1 am not worthy Thou beneath my roof Should’ st enter — if Thou enterest not, I die ; The day is now far spent, and evening shades Are coming on — oh, with me stay awhile ! THE CREED. I. The vastness of the Creed. II. Its all-pervading charity. III. How to he impressed with its importance. IY. The same. Y. Unsatisfying nature of earthly things. VI. The Creed para- phrased, as our only consolation. VII. The strong-hold of Faith. VIII. In the Occasional Services. IX. The proportion of Faith. X. How received into the soul. XI. Its practical effects. XII. A Prayer to hold it aright , and find rest therein. The greater height these Graces reach, The clearer they the mystery teach ; Saints best in their own souls may read The illustration of their Creed. Kenn, vol. i. 269. ■ I. Go, stand beneath some Minster tall, Stretching in aisles majestical ; In branchings of embowering length, And avenues of pillar’d strength. THE SOUTH AISLE. 143 ’Mid arch and pile aloft arrayed. And clustering reach of vaulted shade. Dwarf d to a speck man there doth stand, ’Mid the colossal mountain band. Or go, and gaze, when mortals sleep. Upon the wild ethereal deep ! Solemn and vast in night’s stern dress. Of worlds a very wilderness. In their blue caves half seen they lie. The many mansions of the sky. Man sinks his inmost soul within, In littleness and conscious sin. Thus, in Christ’s holy Creed displayed. Truth on eternal pillars laid. World beyond world, end without end. Doth over man her vastness bend. Far stooping from the deeps of night, She stands reveal’d to mortal sight. Like the broad Heaven’s o’er-arching span. Divinity encircling man. II. What is the long Cathedral glade, But Faith that in the structur’d shade. Herself embodies to the sense. Leaning upon Omnipotence ; 144 THE SOUTH AISLE. And Holiness, ennobling thought, Into a living temple wrought ? There Strength and Beauty spring to life. In contests of harmonious strife ; With blended glories high aloof. Embracing on the gorgeous roof, Till standing ’neath the giant throng The soul expands, and feels her strong With more than doth to man belong. Nor gazing on th’ ethereal hall, Let thoughts of vastness thee appall ! Through the still arch, Night’s awful dome, Love gleams from his eternal home. With countenance unearthly bright Lifting the curtains of dead Night, And thro’ the vast of that '\yild sea Speaks peace to fall’n humanity. E’en thus the Creed’s eternal scroll Doth awe, but not confound the soul ; Like tent of ether spread above. All fostering, all sustaining Love, There stretches her unfailing strength. And height, and depth, and breadth, and length, Doth to our aid itself unfold. Exalt, ennoble, strengthen, hold, ’Neath whose encircling canopy We may from Sin and Sorrow flee. THE SOUTH AISLE. 145 God the beginning whence it rose, And everlasting life the close. Tho’ clouds and darkness mantle round Those towers, disclos’d on heavenly ground, Mercy with them her light is blending. On embassies of grace descending. There, as within a darken’d glass. Our God before us deigns to pass. We ’neatli His sheltering hand may hide, And in our Rock unharm’d abide. ^No sooner in His might array’d, He hath the world’s foundations laid. Holding in hollow of His hand The Heavens — and earth — and sea — and land. When lo, the crystal skies descend a , He comes below of man the Friend, To walk with man till time shall end — In him, with him, the weary steep to climb, And lead him to calm heights beyond the sea of time. III. Good Angels, I would fain adore, And trace the secrets of your shore, In safety guide my feeble bark. And lift the mantle of the dark ! a i. e. as the Creed proceeds. L 146 THE SOUTH AISLE. How bring we near to mortal eyes Those infinite realities, That they may on our spirits dwell. The Great, the Good, th’ Unchangeable ? Upon the glass the creeping fly Will shut out mightiest worlds on high. And care, to earthly projects giv’n. Will hide from man his God and Heaven. ’Tis distance dwarfs the mighty star. In Night’s blue caves scarce seen afar. But the great God to us is near. As mortal eye, or mortal ear. And that vast sea, which knows no shore, With all its floods is at the door. ’Tis in the holy Liturgy We come to sit its margin nigh, Till haply so familiar grown. With glorious things to man made known. We by that standard rightly scan How little, and how great is man. It is the soul in love and fear. Kindling to life th’ eternal sphere. Till mightiest things that fill the sky. And walk in immortality, Assemblages of light around, Wakening throughout the dim profound, THE SOUTH AISLE. 147 All tremblingly begin to stir, A living amphitheatre, Where Jesus ’mid the dark serene O’er the vast circuit walks unseen. ’Tis Thoughtfulness on brooding wing, Earth’s lowliest duties cherishing, And Prayer that bringeth down the skies With dread immortal companies. Thus in Thy hallow’d house on earth, Breathing the breath of our new birth, As thro’ a portal we descry, Growing upon the gazing eye, The palace of eternity. Without, forgetful we are Thine, We seek for happiness, and pine, There, in the ocean of Thy love. Remember that in Thee we move. And breathe the life-restoring air Of Thy calm presence ; — earthly care Looses her hold ; Faith more and more Admits to her celestial store. IV. Why dwells the lover on the glance Of some endeared countenance ? At each remembrance in him stirs A man of strength, oft as recurs 148 THE SOUTH AISLE. Thought upon thought, a link remains. Until the soul is found in chains. What binds the exile to his home ? Regretful memories, that come With images that love to dwell By some known tree or native well. What weds the traitorous soul to gold Cares which returning manifold At morn and eve, grow on the soul. And thence shut out the mighty whole, Heaven’s heights and everlasting goal. What lit in thee the lamp of love. Great Saint of Patmos ? Thoughts abov Ever conversing with the Word, In cherish’d memory seen and heard. Thine eagle eye was ever bent Gazing upon the firmament, Till on thee burst th’ ethereal world. Armies of God with signs unfurl’d, And thou wast seen ’mong men to be The o’er-flowing fount of charity. Thus Faith, her torch -light to repair, Will oft return, and linger there, Where Truth, unfolding her deep creed, Opens the Heavens to meet our need. And shews lights gleaming evermore, On margin of th’ eternal shore. THE SOUTH AISLE. 149 How shall I thank Thy Majesty, That giv’st to know ourselves, and Thee ; — The mercies which with Thee abide, The littleness of all beside ; — Not in the cloud spread forth above, Not in the light on Aaron’s breast, But in this mantle of Thy love. Which on each earthly scene doth rest ! V. Spirit of awe, my fancy lead. While thus ’mid holy things I tread, Lay on my lips thy sweet control, And touch them with the living coal ! That Creed in the calm Liturgy, ’Mid varied worship, prayer, and praise. Concentrating their heavenly rays. Is like the lamp that came from high, And moved, beneath the nightly skies, ’Mid the divided sacrifice. Then spake a voice to Terah’s son b , ‘ ’Mid foes, meek stranger, hold thee on, ‘ A little while — on either hand 4 They shall be gone, but thou shalt stand.’ b Genesis xv. 17. 150 THE SOUTH AISLE. Sweet words of holy embassage, May ye my weary soul engage, In this my house of pilgrimage ! While watchful foes around me throng. Make me in your blest wisdom strong ! With throbbing head and aching breast, I find no Elim’s shade of rest. I wander ’neath this desert Sun, Shod with desires still fresh and bold ; My earthly weeds have not grown old, But here of good I nought have won, My hopes are yet where they begun. Pride came, and whisper’d secretly. To come unto her nest on high : There was a gleam that slumber’d there. It was the storm’s bright harbinger. That calm — it was the thunder’s shroud — For sorrow aye pursues the proud. Peace came with tale of gentle springs, Of valleys and sequesterings, Where on the mirror of her breast. Tranquilly I might lean and rest. That vale was an unearthly land. Guarded by some enchanted band. Nor can I know that sweet recess, Till friendly Death shall me undress. THE SOUTH AISLE. 151 Then Friendship came with purest hope below. Like dark-stoled Una with her Lamb of snow : But, if to her I wed my days, I should forget a holier praise ! Yet, so I love the sacred grace. And Angel calm of her dear face, That I will leave her for a while, To gain her everlasting smile. Ah, well I know thee, Solitude, Thy silent cell and sinking mood ; And hard the task with thee to dwell. And love thy thoughtful citadel. But for the star that lights thy page, And cheers thine evening hermitage. Then Learning tun’d her classic lute So touchingly — the vale hung mute ; I turn’d to seek one by my side. But found not — there sat lonely Pride, The heart still droop’d unsatisfied. Then Nature oped her hidden treasure. Defying bound, defying measure, With beauty half reveal’d, half shewn, Still leading to her Lord unknown : The soul amid the landscape fair. For something sought which was not there. 152 THE SOUTH AISLE. Then pointed she with iron hand Unto Religion’s calm abode ; But gleams, that broke the twilight, shew’d Dark Superstition’s phantom band. Which round her cave were seen to stand. Pale Care was there, to whom Heaven’s bird Sang her sweet lesson all unheard : Distrust that scarce could light descry ’Mid tangled woods — felt none was nigh : And wan Despair ’mid places lone Brooding o’er that which Time hath done. And Time can ne’er undo again ; — Pharpar and Abana all vain. Or Ocean’s self to wash her stain. VI. The quiet of this Summer Eve, When birds are on their homeward wing. Save night’s sweet friend that wakes to sing. Should soothe a heart unus’d to grieve. But lights, that fall on yonder glade, Do but disclose a darker shade, And Nature in her joyous mood Were but a deeper solitude. But for the gleams of heavenly Love, Which fall from our true home above. THE SOUTH AISLE. 153 The shadow sleeps upon the hill. In Nature’s temple all is still. With rippling stir the leaflets move, Tho’ not a gale to wake the grove ; The lake hath caught a silver crest, Tho’ not a breath to break its rest. Calm tremblings thro’ the earth and sky Speak some approaching Deity ; Shadows of earth hold me no more, Ah, glorious light, I see thee now. Forth issuing from the eastern door, I turn, and head and heart I bow. The Creed. Do I believe in God above c ? Then nought on earth my heart shall move. Calm I unravel life’s dull lore. That I may so His goodness prove. Away with sad distrust, no more Come knocking at my heart’s low door ! What shall th’ Almighty’s power withstand d . What shall withhold a Father’s hand, That hand which made and holds the sky and sea and shore ? c I believe in God. d The Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and earth. 154 THE SOUTH AISLE. One only Son within Thy breast, In Jesus Christ made manifest. He is my Heaven-born earth-born Lord e , I see Him and I find my rest ; Conceiv’d of Holy Ghost f — the Word, — Earth saw, and trembled, and ador’d. But lest we call on rocks to hide, A virgin Mother’s at Thy side g . The pure in heartbehold, and own love’s gentle chore. Oh, that this heart were cleans’d to see ! Go, earthly good, and leave me free, To see my God by sorrow tom. In robes of rent humanity 11 . And now before me that dread mom, — And that pale form is bleeding borne 1 . Of blending water and of blood Flows forth the sacramental flood k . And we without the tomb with Mary sit and mourr E’en yet — disarming all our woe. Thou goest down with us below" 1 ! e And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord. f W was conceived of the Holy Ghost. & Born of the Virgl Mary. h Suffered under Pontius Pilate. ' Was crucifh k Dead. 1 And buried. m He descended into He THE SOUTH AISLE. 155 May we behold where Thou hast been. And night of Thy dark burial know ; — Thence see Thee by the moon serene. Rising behind th’ Eternal screen 11 , Now opening Heaven’s ethereal bar. And golden portals from afar 0 . On the right hand on high by dying Stephen seen?. ® O, mercy with strange terrors blended ! Above, around, the skies are rended, Christ sits on high, and far and wide Are hurrying Angels, — all is ended ‘i! Ah, hence with indolence and pride, With vain hope in the Crucified ! — tn those dread truths do I believe ? Then let me not Thy presence grieve. But working in calm fear that fiery hour abide ! Spirit, foretelling and foretold r . Lighting upon our Head of old, n The third day Pie rose again from the dead. 0 He ascended into Heaven. p And sitteth on the right hand of if God the Father Almighty. q From whence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead. r I believe in the Holy [t Ghost. 156 THE SOUTH AISLE. And thence through all His priesthood sent, With power to loose, and power to hold s ; Like oil on Aaron’s head besprent. Till to his clothing’s skirts it went : Thence, to all time diffusing down, Thou fill’st the Church from that blest crown With odorous graces sweet, o’erflowing and u. spent. Why mourn we left on earth alone ? When bound within that mystic zone 4 The dead and living are brought nigh, And knit together all in one : O bond for mortal sense too high ! And, pale Remorse, repress thy sigh ; See the baptismal seal of Heaven, The pledge of penitence forgiven"; Go, sin no more, but learn a better strength to tr Let me not mourn that stern decay Is busy with this shed of clay, And wither’d leaves from off me fall ; — I shall put on a fairer day Beyond my wintry funeral x . — s The Holy Catholic Church. 1 The Communion of Saint u The forgiveness of sins. x The Resurrection of the Bod THE SOUTH AISLE. 157 O thought that doth the heart appal, lidding adieu to laggard time, The unimagin’d steep to climb, With bars of night around, or Heaven’s eternal halH ! VII. u Thus rising, like a living mine, From quarries of the Word divine, ^he Apostolic symbol stands, Moulded of old by saintly hands. Within, o’ershadowing holy things, jOve stretches her cherubic wings. Vind and rain they have no power, impair this heaven-built tower ; ’ime, that beats down earthly things With his “ multitudinous wings,” ierves but to strengthen and disclose T) n his temple in its dread repose. Thus from a world of stern reproof. From storm and wind which fitful go, And shake each hope-built tower below, | V e flee to an embowering roof, Thence see the shower — the shade — the sun, O’er all without their courses run. E' y And the Life Everlasting. 158 THE SOUTH AISLE. Oft ’mid the throng of spirits rude We seem in friendless solitude, And seek in vain some holding hand ; — But entering on that holy ground, The veil is rais’d, — the mountains stand With fiery coursers girt, and fiery cars around. VIII. Nor only in the holy shrine The Faith holds forth this shield divine ; — As with the traveller on his way, Social or lonely, grave or gay. The sky extends its circling bound. The cloud-hung blue expanding round, — Thus, wheresoe’er on earth we rove. Its omnipresent form doth move, Wherein the image of the skies, And the eternal Gospel lies, Infinity of strength and light. And love e’en more than infinite. It is the breath of our new birth. It is the light of our new morn, Whence hues upon the soul are born. More durable than aught on earth. When dawning life first let us in. Into this house of grief and sin, THE SOUTH AISLE. 159 ^.nd Death stood by to mark his prey, — Protectingly, our sheltering stay, That Creed stood o’er the dangerous way — in arch that open’d to the dome 2 , The ancient Church’s sacred home ; An arch which, at Death’s twilight bourne, Lets out into the heavenly morn a . And over-stretching the dread road. Props on each side th’ incumbent load, Until the ransom’d have pass’d by. In soberness most meet to bear the Judge’s eye. IX. Behold in Heaven yon glorious bow. Which spans the gleaming world below ! The hues distinct in order glow. Yet each in each doth melt unseen, That none can mark the bound between : Lo, such is Faith’s mysterious scroll, A multiform harmonious whole. Together gather’d for our aid. And in the darken’d heights displayed : The Church shall ne’er that emblem want Of her eternal covenant. In the Baptismal Service. In the Visitation of the Sick. 160 THE SOUTH AISLE. As on th’ horison’s cloudy wall. Where’er the golden sunbeams fall, The colours in the rainbow found Blend in a secret union bound. E’en thus, where the true light hath shone, The heart all truths shall hold, which rightly holde one. First Fear, which is the shadow true b Of wrath divine to sinners due. Looks out upon the deep, and tries To sound her endless destinies ; — That Fear with falling, falling wing. Will to nought less than Godhead cling : And he with eager heart and eyes Who feeds on that dread sacrifice. In aid Divine will seek to hide. And on the living Word abide : Feeling His presence, which doth bear, And hold him buoyant in mid air. O wondrous spell the heart to move. And all her dark recesses prove ! Lord, wake in me that holy awe, Winch thro’ obedience learns Thy Law, Till all my soul responsive own, That Faith’s mysterious union ! b Psalm xc. 11. THE SOUTH AISLE. 161 X. Yea, what is the Liturgic store Of prayer and praise and sacred lore, But changing notes as they proceed, Unfolding all that wondrous Creed ; Now rising to sublimer lays In the Ambrosian song of praise. Now calling pity from the skies In penitential Litanies ? — Or what the characters combin’d. In gifted holiness of mind. But, in the secret spirit found, The Creed contracting its vast bound ? As all in one, earth, sea, and sky. Are pictur’d in the gazing eye ; Or some calm-bosom’d wave below Mirrors the Sun’s life-giving brow. And holds, unbroken and entire. The image of celestial fire ; So may my heart reflective own That Faith’s all-perfect union ! XI. Shadows with us and phantoms dwell. Nor can I now the vastness tell. Wherein abides the Unchangeable. M 162 THE SOUTH AISLE. The things which mightiest seem’d erewhile. The tree — the lake — the rustic pile — Thro’ memory’s glass in childhood seen. When manhood re-beholds, how mean, Poor and contracted is the scene ! Then what will all things seem below, When opes the heart our God to know ? Fain would I learn heart-stilling awe, While to that change I nearer draw ; One who is doom’d to rove the main Will gaze on that untravell’d plain, Early and late will thither come. Forgetful of his rural home. And view th’ expanse that boundless lies. Form’d of the blending sea and skies. So would I gaze, e’er I depart. On that dread scene, and fill my heart. Till gazing on reality. All here shall shadows seem to me. If freed from clouds of earthly care. The soul becomes a mirror fair. Where Truth from her empyreal shrines. As in a secret palace shines. Impregnating the crystal deeps. Lightening the bed where darkness sleeps. THE SOUTH AISLE. 163 If music of that calmer sphere Find in the heart a mansion clear. It with each virtue fills the soul. And moulds to an harmonious whole ; As runs the air the organ round. And modulates the varied sound, — Each pipe and stop in breathing gold Answers with voices manifold. Nor marvel that, where’er it range. Heaven’s breath should work such wondrous change. At Spring goes forth a viewless Power, On leaf, on wing, on bird, on flower. From buried Winter’s winding-sheet Wakening a sound or colour sweet, Sky- tinctured plants, and feather’d things. Fluttering upon melodious wings. ’Tis so with meaner sights of earth ; — The light of our Baptismal birth, — Shall it not turn each cross and care Into some glorious form as fair, Tho’ eye and ear see nothing there ? I know not much, I cannot tell, I cannot see th’ Invisible ; But much I see for thoughtful praise ; Tho’ hedg’d with ill our mortal days, 164 THE SOUTH AISLE. The darker is the avenue, More bright beyond Heaven’s portal blue ; And if a cloud should linger there, ’Tis pass’d — Heaven’s gate again is fair. If pride should lead to wanderings vain. Remorse will oft restore ; — again Awe-struck beneath that Creed we stand. Its glories opening on each hand, As vastness of the Heavens beyond Bursts forth, struck by Night’s ebon wand. XII. Lord, who to set Thy pardon’s seal. To us Thy Godhead dost reveal, And on our skies the signal plant Of the life-giving covenant : Grant I may so obedience learn. That I may thus those truths discern ! Grant I may so those truths discern, That I may thus obedience learn ! Until their mutual benison Disclose in me th’ Eternal Son. So order me, without Thy shrine, To walk in holy discipline, Thy treasures in my soul to hide. To steer me from the rocks of pride. THE SOUTH AISLE. 165 The lowliness of place to love, And holiest truths by practice prove. Resign’d, resolv’d, in meekness bold, Thy steps to watch, Thy hand to hold. That so Faith’s scroll, which I repeat, May find in me accordance meet. And teach me so. Thy shrine within. Calm’d by Thy peace from worldly din. The everlasting Faith to hear. With fancy warm and spirit clear, That, going thence, ’mid worldly strife I daily wear a charmed life ; That wisdom, like a living well, Within my heart of hearts may dwell. Strengthening and freshening, as we go, The vale of sorrows here below; Till Truth no more, in Nature’s glass. Shall like a shadow by us pass. But we shall see her fountain bright, And dwell with her in seas of light. ®t)e j&otttfj transept. THE EPISTLE AND GOSPEL. [OR JESUS CHRIST IN HISTORY.] I. No more in mazes of the Psalmist’s song. Is Christ disclos’d, as in a dim retreat ; Nor sitting the prophetic shades among ; — But lighten’d by the living Paraclete The Church her children gathers ’neath His fee And shews anew upon each holier morn Tracks of His footsteps, or some lesson meet. Words from th’ Eternal roll, to cheer or warn. And in a bracelet weaves her Sunday to adorn. THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. 167 II. A few short Years make up our pilgrimage; A few short Weeks make up the fleeting Year; Each Week doth bear a heavenly embassage; With silent steps, as on a crystal stair. It comes and goes to Heaven. With such sweet care The Church hath deck’d each Week with blooming wings. Which else were earth’s stern-hearted messenger Leading to Death ; she at perennial springs Clothes it with holy light, and like an Angel brings. III. The natural Year, swift shadow of the sun. Wakes from the earth a chequer’d tapestry. To greet his footsteps as he passes on. Carpets of snow — sweet violets — lilies high — Then fields of waving gold — then varied dye Of Autumn ; but the snow, and violets sweet, Lilies, and Autumn’s wild variety. And waving com, fast as the sunbeams fleet, — They bow their head and die beneath his hurrying feet. 168 THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. IV. Not so the path the holy Church doth tread, The Year, that walketh in her light unseen. Around its steps awakens from the dead Hopes that shall never die. Through the serene Of the calm Sunday, like an alley green, Are seen th’ eternal towers ; and where lights gild Death’s twilight portal, us and them between, She shews her suffering Lord ; throughout the wild. Still shews her suffering Lord to her faint wandering child. V. At every turn throughout Life’s wilderness. In pillar’d fire, smote rock, or healed springs, His presence she reveals, and power to bless : When the autumnal wind of ruin sings, She blends her Advent chaunt of happier things. As louder swell the sounds of stem decay. The higher doth she lift her herald voice, till wings And Angel forms are seen, and on our way Springs from dark Winter’s womb the face of endless day — THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. 169 VI. The Christmas dawn. She thro’ the waning night Her leaning child hath to that cradle led. And bids him all unlearn but that meek sight And Heaven’s own lesson, of the homely shed. The Babe and mother. Nature now is dead. And darksome ; but in wintry skies is set A wreath that glitters o’er that Infant’s head ; Her fairest stars are round His cradle met. Like gems of light within His Kingly coronet a , — VII. The Innocents, the Martyrs, and the one, For martyr’s heart, and childlike innocence, Belov’ d and nearest. Thus each duteous son She trains at His poor cradle, gaining thence Sermons of that diviner eloquence. And as our sorrow’s winters roll along. Brings to that childhood — in our manlier sense Less have we ears for the angelic song, Or heart to enter in with that meek shepherd throng. The Saints’ Days after Christmas Day. 170 THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. VIII. Sweetly by mysteries are we wrapt around, Th’ Epiphany’s bright star is o’er the plain, Mountain, and sea, where Jesus’ steps are found. Coming to sojourn with the heirs of pain, And draw true hearts to Him with unseen chain. Now she in sterner warnings points to where. In judgment and in glory He again, Beyond the twilight of this silent air, ’Mid th’ everlasting hills His chariot doth prepare b . IX. Then vernal Lent comes on — Nature puts up Her sweetest notes, and dons her fairest trim ; The Church is drinking of her Saviour’s cup. And far into the wild hath gone with Him ; Nature’s glad tones upon her prison dim Break not, or with calm influence on the soul Come, like faint sounds of distant cherubim, To cheer the chasten’d spirit, not control, While prayer clears her dull eye to see th’ eternal goal. b The last Sunday after the Epiphany refers to both the first and the second Advent, as the Collect indicates. THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. 171 X. O Thou, on Whom the Angels dare not gaze. In the deep bosom of Divinity, But veil their faces from the o’erpowering rays Of Thine eternal beauty ! Thee we see With countenance sore marr’d with agony Beyond the sons of men. O wondrous power Of Love divine ! shall man not watch with Thee One little hour ? for scarce one fleeting hour Set ’gainst the days of Heaven, is life’s fast fading flower. XI. A little further in the solemn grove. Into the bosom of the silent night, — A little further onward let us move From the rude world — yet further — from the sight Of kindred and of friends, that so aright We may discern our weakness, and apply Our hearts to God alone, while the broad light. The witness of His sorrows, is on high, — The paschal moon which o’er yon olive-mount stands by. 172 THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. XII. Green Bethany, since that dread sorrow’s blast. Thine olive-crown is turned all to seer ; — Where from beneath thy feet is Cedron past ? Where is the glorious temple standing near ? But still the widow’d Church is lingering here. Mary of Christ approved, and meekly wise. Teach her to bring with penitential fear Some offering honour’d in thy Saviour’s eyes. The incense of the heart to embalm His obsequies. XIII. Church of resign’d obedience ! Rome may prize Her costlier garniture, and flaunting air ; Geneva boast her undress’d novelties; — Keep thou meek Mary’s mien, divinely fair. Thy Saviour to approach with reverend care, And lowly service — not where sounds aloud The voice that crieth in the streets, the stare And gaze tumultuous of th’ admiring crowd, To stand beneath the cross with holy John allow’d. THE SOUTH TRANSEPT, 173 XIV. Now, as the opening year doth gradual rise. Thro’ toilsome months to her meridian tower. Then full expands into her summer skies ; Or plants that climb thro’ many a wintry hour. And are unbosom’d in some fragrant flower : Thus Whitsuntide, reveal’d in mighty flame. Opens from high Heaven’s full mysterious dower, And crowns the sacred year : — if without blame The things which are divine with earthly I may name. XV. And now her Lord is seen no more on earth, From the blest Three in One, withdrawn from view. She showers down blessings of our better birth In falls of streaming light and pearly dew. Life-giving precepts, heavenly helps, and true Unfading hopes ; till all is eloquent Within this house roof’d o’er with crystal blue. The earth, and sea, and glowing firmament, Threefold one temple form, their Maker’s holy tent. 174 THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. XVI. Thus year by year the same her weekly strain. For not on turbulent seas of human pride. But on the moveless rock she doth remain : Whate’er unquiet Creeds the earth divide. Between the Cherubims He doth abide. Whose same still warning voice, afar and near. Is heard above the ever changeful tide : Now as of old, unto a thousand year c . Goes forth one weekly store — each willing heart and eail XVII. One lesson learns. Thus thro’ advancing time Building His habitation from the ends Of Earth and Heaven, of every tongue and clime, The dead and quick He in one temple blends, Wherein one prayer the Heavenly gate ascends. Tho’ Babel’s curse rests on the world forlorn. And language, clime, and heart asunder rends. Yet in th’ unfailing Church, by age unworn. Thy blessing still is fresh, thou Pentecostal mom ! c The Collects, Epistle, and Gospel can most of them be ! proved to have been in the Church more than twelve hundred i years. See “ Palmer’s Antiquities of the English Ritual.” THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. 175 XVIII. One soul, one tongue is there : th’ Eternal Son, Her true ShecHnah unreveal’d to sight. Dwells in her living courts for ever One, Tho’ manifold His gifts, and infinite The varied radiations of the light, While in His awful countenance we read : Withholding and imparting to our might, And the requirements of our several need. He quickens all the forms which from her breast proceed. XIX. Her sacred Sundays, in their varied vest. And Saintly days, in colours of the skies. With precept and with Prayer and warning drest. Were without Him but like th’ enamell’ d dyes On pictured panes, whose beauty hidden lies All colourless, till from the veil of night The bright-hair’d Sun behind is seen to rise. When, lo, the holy Preachers spring to light. Manifold shapes of life, in glowing vestures dight. 176 THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. XX. And cloistral cells retir’d have caught the gleam, Thus each home-service hath His light en- shrin’d ; See on the bridal mom His radiance stream ! Art thou a lonely one in lot and mind, Or hast thou earthly blessings but to find That helplessness which on Earth’s good relies ? Here is th’ immortal Bridegroom, who doth bind The virgin soul with more than bridal ties, And hallows wedded love to holier charities. XXI. Now at the couch of sickness would she stand. With that sweet lesson, like a lamp from high. While Truth up-lifts her awe-inspiring hand, Mercy with gentler accents would draw nigh, “ ’Twere good with Christ to suffer and to die d ; ” And when the soul, by sickness all unwound. O’er the expanse is shaken tremblingly. She then discloses ’neath her girdle bound A golden key, and cries, “ I have a ransom found e .” d See the Exhortation in the Visitation of the Sick. e Job xxxiii. 24. THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. 177 XXII. Christ hath been in the waters, and the whole Of our baptismal being doth abound With more of healing than Bethesda’s pool, Stirr’d by the Angel, where there lay around The impotent, the maim’d, and sickness-bound ; Emblem of this world’s sorrows, ’mid the show Of portals fair, which over-arch the ground. And seem to mock her children’s varied woe. Look on us, or we die where healing waters flow ! XXIII. From that baptismal well are onward cast The ancient paths, and fenc’d for evermore. To the Eternal City ; on the past We think, and sigh, and our lost time deplore : How have I fail’d to gain thy weekly lore. Seed-time of heavenly harvests ! from a child Deep might my heart have treasur’d thy rich store ; So transient scenes had ne’er my love beguil’d, ind left with empty hands, and soul with sin defil’d. N 178 THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. XXIV. But time remains for hope ; each angry thought Against myself to turn, my bosom’s pride, And passionate complainings in me wrought Vent on myself; how have I wander’d wide ! Woe is me, for the day will not abide ; Shadows of eve are stretched out, and we ’Neath Night’s dark wings our guilty heads would hide, And steal to rest ; yet we can never be As if we ne’er had been ; — but there th’ o’erwhelming. sea XXV. Shall burst from all its flood-gates, with the light Ushering the Judge’s presence. Mother dear, Oft as thy courts I enter, day or night, Thy voice is of forgiveness, full and clear, Hast thou no daily baptism ? — much I fear ; Yet something o’er thine ancient threshold flings A dewy freshness ; where the fount stands near Of our new birth-right, Hope reviving springs. And o’er my fever’d brow soft waves her healing wings. THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. 179 XXVI. Church of my country, unto thee is lent More than e’en Nature hath in ways of love ; A vine, that spreads abroad a living tent Of shelter, shade, and food, — a rocky cove, — The eye maternal of the gentle dove, — The swan’s soft wing spread o’er her snowy throng, — The gaze of the stern eagle fix’d above, — The doe’s retiring step, that with her young lounds from the gazer’s eye the branching woods among. XXVII. The archers sore have griev’d thee ; — wilt thou flee, And leave us ? so hereafter, hither bent. Some pensive traveller may return, and see All that remains, a mantle rudely rent. Or weep beside a mouldering monument. I saw an aged pile f , calm in decay, Which, where the Wye his mountain windings went, Look’d from its ivy mantle, stern and grey, Vhile little birds sang thro’ their summer holiday ; f Tintern Abbey. 180 THE SOUTH TRANSEPT. XXVIII. The sheep were browsing in the sacred hall, 'Which once had echoed to the choral song ; And that old wandering river seem’d to call On ancient memories ; and the mountain throng Stood by in solemn consciousness ; among Rent walls the wild flowers hung, thro’ blended view Of arches and tall piles, in ruin strong And beautiful, shone the celestial blue, And there with a black cloud the Sun contending through. XXIX. Thoughts of our Church like moon-beams seem’d to peer, And made the desolation more forlorn ; It was an hour for contemplation’s tear : But ’tis not ours o’er ruin’d wrecks to mourn, For thro’ the broken rents, which Time hath worn, Shines our celestial House ; our Father blest Would teach us thus how vain each earthly j bourne. Though fairest seeming, holiest, and best ; — The more to seek for nought but His eternal rest. FESTIVALS. PHER’D in its orb, each radiant Festival Upon onr annual path in turn appears, And, like the lights on the ethereal wall. Each its new shade of varying lustre wears, — iach its new thought, new lesson, till at length The combinations of their brightness blend ?o form the wreath of Truth, Light’s gather’d strength, The knowledge of our God, our being’s end. i )ne while the Infant Martyrs throw their mild And gentle radiance upon childhood’s grave ; Vhich some sad mother hath of grief beguil’d, Sooth’d with the pledge of the fresh saving wave. 182 THE ORATORIES. Not so when glorious Michael stands contest. With ministering hosts and bright array. Faith sees around her many an Angel guest. Like stars, forgotten in the glare of day. Not so when Saints of God around us come. Till half unmindful of ourselves forlorn, Of th’ intervening veil and silent tomb, We tread with them the courts of heavenly morn. Now holy Matthew calls, for Jesus’ sake, “ Beware of Mammon and the treacherous leaven,” Leaving the gainful Galilean lake, Calls us with him to barter Earth for Heaven . Now John, whose ravish’d glance is fix’d above. Drinking the beams which from the Godhead stream, Puts on the calmness of Angelic love, While life beneath him seems a fleeting dream. Thus from the sphere in which it lay conceal’d. As thro’ its zodiac rolls the Sacred Year, Some grace is ever and anon reveal’d, To duteous hearts fresh influence to bear. THE ORATORIES. 183 Nor deem it profitless, on chosen days The ever-busy soul to discipline To clothe herself with robes of holy praise. Of countless hues as in the sunbeam shine. As sunbright days transform the teeming grain, So these do mould the temper, till it grows To full and golden ripeness, with the train - Of Sabbath thoughts unask’d, and Christ’s repose. As when on Sunday morn insensate things With the glad spirit sweetly harmonize. Till leafy woods, and beasts, and flowing springs. Seem but to join heard music in the skies : — The mind clothes all with light from her own store, And over mute creation spreads her wings ; Then on those wings to Nature’s God to soar. On sympathies of earth she heavenward springs: — So these lift up the soul to happier lands, To hear what strains to the Redeem’d belong ; Many the gate where Sion’s daughter stands. And at each portal sings a new-made song. 184 . THE ORATORIES. THE NICENE CREED. August Consistory, in whose dread pale Together comes assembled Christendom ; While Kings, the nursing-fathers, watch the scale ! They come, faint image of the general doom, From the four winds of Heaven, and with them meet The spirits of their fathers from the tomb, — Call’d by the witness-bearing Paraclete To testify to wandering Israel. — But who is set on Sion’s judgment-seat ? ’Tis One too glorious to be visible To mortal eyes, but Who unto the end Dwells in His Church — the true Emmanuel. He from the heights of Heaven deigns to descend. And takes his seat on David’s ancient throne ; And, where Christ is, th’ Angelic hosts attend. He, ’mid the golden candlesticks alone Walks, and attemper’d to divine accord The assembled multitude His presence own. THE ORATORIES. 185 i Lo ! in His voice is heard th’ unfailing Word, Like sound of many waters ; and again I There goeth from His mouth a two-edg’d sword. He high enthron’d above dark Error’s reign, ! With His Apostles round His sacred feet, Shall yesterday, to-day, and aye remain. j Then wonder not that where her children meet, I' The Church but gathers up her ancient lays, ! And fuller diapason doth repeat. Thus in earth’s distant mines are hid the rays, I Which light the breast-plate in Truth’s living zone. Bearing the voice of God to latest days ; — Strings brought together of responsive tone. Which form a harp by Wisdom’s holy spell, j From which proceeds the Church’s orison ; — 1 Stones wrought by unseen hands, and moulded well, I Which, knit together, build a mystic shrine. Wherein resides a living oracle ; — And when it goeth forth, — Earth’s furthest line. And echo answers from the distant skies, ! Acknowledging the voice of Truth divine. 186 THE ORATORIES. Here in our solemn Minster it doth rise Like some ancestral pillar to behold a , The witness-stone inscrib’d with living eyes ; With sculptur’d tablets on each side enroll’d, Writ by the finger of th’ Eternal Son, — The universal Faith which was of old. Rest not without to gaze, hut pass still on, And thou shalt find within a sacred cell, An holy Altar, and a cross thereon, Faith’s oratory, and calm citadel. Angelic haunts, the house of benison, Where thou may’st grateful pray, and ever dwell. * “ This Council in Nicsea,” says Athanasius, “ is truly . pillar set up with an inscribed warning against every kind o heresy.” Ep. ad Afros. L c. 899. THE ORATORIES. 187 THE BLESSING. I. As Simeon for his last release, — As crowds when evening shades increase. Till Jesus bids them go in peace 15 : As thirsty lands to summer skies. The maiden on her mistress’ eyes. As travellers for the morning’s rise : Thus, heavenward turn’d her listening ear. Faith waits her Saviour’s peace to hear. In words of His own messenger. II. For vapours sent on wings of Even, From pining earth to pitying Heaven, The freshening dew to her is given. The drop, which through the ocean strays, Touch’d by the Sun’s pure Indian rays Becomes a pearl of living blaze. b Our Saviour’s dismissing the crowd is often alluded to, is if it were accompanied with some significant action : thus 5t. Matt. xiv. 22, “while H e dismissed,” and 23, when He “had lismissed” them. 188 THE ORATORIES. So for our earthly sacrifice Of prayer and praise, retumeth thrice The blessing of celestial price : — III. More than the dying patriarch knew. Who o’er his sons his mantle threw, — Words which Christ’s dying gift renew. Not such the spreading incense cloud ; Not such the music thrilling loud ; Nor Aaron’s voice o’er silent crowd c . Shield of the Spirit, saving spell. Faith’s amulet invisible, Ever about us come and dwell. c Ecclus. 1. 16, 20. THE ORATORIES. 189 DISTANT CHURCH BELLS. Up steeps reclining' in th’ Autumnal calm, rhe woodland nook retir’d, and quiet field Upon the tranquil noon The Sunday chime is borne ; Using and sinking on the silent air. With many a dying fall most musical. And fitful bird hard by Blending harmoniously. The moon is looking on the sunny earth ; The little fleecy cloud stands still in Heaven, Making the blue expanse More still and beautiful. If aught there be upon this rude bad earth, Which Angels from their happy spheres above Could lean and listen to. It were those peaceful sounds. 190 THE ORATORIES. There is unearthly balm upon the air, And holier lights which are with Sunday born. That man may lay aside Himself, and be at rest. The week-day cares, like shackles, from us fall. As from our Lord the clothings of the grave ; And we too seem with Him To walk in endless mom. Not that these musical wings would bear us up On buoyant thoughts too high for sinful man. But that they speak the best Which earth hath left to give. Of better hopes, and prayer, and penitence, Rising in incense on the sacred air From many a woodland spire, Or hill-embosom’d tower ; That sadness, and privation, and earth’s loss In the great sea of goodness are forgot, And sense of stern decay Is lost in sweet repose. So deep are all things stamp’d with vanity, So fading, and so fleeting, and so frail, — And we too, while we speak, Dropping ourselves away, — THE ORATORIES. 191 That envy, and unkindness, and revenge. In very pity for themselves might weep. Coping with a poor shade. With real sad unrest. It may be that our hopes may be deceiv’d. And we found wanting ; yet a little while We ’gainst ourselves will hope. And against hope rejoice. For earth hath nothing else found worth our care. And if we lose her all, we nothing lose. So poor while it remain’d. And so short- liv’d when gone ! But if we are beguil’d by her false charms. By her enthralling ways and prospects fair. Her promises of good The shadow of a shade. Fleeting behind to-morrow — on — and on — If we, by her vain impotence beguil’d, Lose our great being’s end — We are beguil’d indeed ! j&cpttlcijral iliicceggeg. THE CHURCHMAN’S FRIENDS. HERBERT. Meek Herbert, ere of thee I sing, ’Tis thou must lend the string. On Jesus’ breast thou art asleep, Or thou would’st wake and weep. That any one should sing of thee Laid in thy poverty. But all our Church doth bear along The echoes of thy song, Thy Country Pastor sweet and stern Her children fain would learn ; Then let the light that fills her shrine On thy meek urn recline. THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. 193 For now thou art a holy thing, And singing the great King For ever with a nobler strain ; Nor praise of our’s can pain, If we be tuned by thy lays To sing thy “ Master's” praise. Meek Herbert, would that such as I Could learn thy lesson high, Those ways that made thy spirit’s tone A midnight orison a . Thy more than manly wisdom free. And child’s simplicity. For Angels ever with thee are, And, in their presence fair. Thy spirit feels it poor and mean, But golden thoughts doth glean Which fall like light from off their wings, When bow’d to earth it sings. a See an anecdote in Walton’s Life of Herbert, p. 83, Oxford dit. 1 805. “ His answer was, that the thought of what he had (one would prove music to him at midnight.” O 194 THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. BUTLER. I saw within a glass vast worlds of light. Launch’d multitudinous on the shoreless sea, While, far outspread, the boundless Deity Sat brooding ’mid the peopled Infinite. Within her and around her the dark sprite Sees — but to know she sees not — the vast zone All bodiless, hung from th’ Eternal’s throne, And hears strange melodies on th’ ear of night. Thus on my heart of hearts still silently Lingers the echo of thy solemn strain, Thoughtful and saintly Butler ! then above, Dark clouds between, is seen a golden chain, And earth and Heaven breathe with Divinity I walk with holy trembling and deep love. THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. 195 KING GEORGE III. And thee, of firm- set foot, and stern advance, Giv’n to whose prayers she haply yet doth stand To hold Truth’s lamp unto a thankless land. Our Church shall own. For no unholy chance, Nor strength of counsel, nor embattled lance. Nor princely league, nor sea- victorious band, Shielded her from the pestilential brand, And fiery breath of parricidal France : But one who drank at Her diurnal source. One who his anchor had within the veil. Her’s was the breath that fill’d his regal sail Right onward, Her’s the star that led his course Thro’ the tempestuous skies ; that, ’mid wild force, Disloyal tongues, fall’n kings, hearts faint and frail. All look’d to him, in her calm firmness free. Sacredly wise in mild simplicity. 196 THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. WILSON. Mona, may Ocean’s waves that gird thee round , Keep watch about thy shores, as holy ground. And lift their suppliant hands, nor plead in vain, I And thine Apostle’s See e’en yet remain ! For, louder than those waves thy rocks among, I That saintly name once had a thrilling tongue b , J Which pleaded for thy sea-encircled strand ; And still doth plead. Woe worth the reckless hand That shall remove thy landmark, and defile His living monument, thou sacred Isle. He needeth nought of us, true-hearted saint. Nor storied stone, nor monumental plaint. But much we need of him, while, in his praise Shall the memorial live of pure primeval days. b Cardinal Fleury obtained an order that no French private© 1 should he allowed to ravage the island, on Bishop Wilson’i I account. THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. 197 ANDREWES. Still praying in thy sleep. With lifted hands and face supine ! Meet attitude of calm and reverence deep, Keeping thy marble watch in hallow’d shrine. Thus, in thy Church’s need. Enshrin’d in ancient Liturgies, Thy spirit shall keep watch and with us plead. While from our secret cells thy prayers arise. Still downward to decay Our Church is hast’ning more and more ; But what else need we but with thee to pray That God may yet her treasures lost restore a ? a “ For the the British” Church , “that what is wanting in her may he supplied, “ that what remains in her may be strengthened.” Bp. Andrewes’ Devotions. THE CHURCH IN FEAR. Eden was in her morning beauty rife, Opening her bosom, like some vernal flower. When crept the deadly serpent from his bower To poison all the founts of life. Men smil’d at one that wrought a house of wood, — Married and gave in marriage, — built and made Foundations ; when the sky was overlaid, And open’d, came the rushing flood. Sodom in pamper’d pride was revelling. And Jordan in the sunshine basking nigh, — The thunder- arm was hid in the blue sky, — ’Neath flowers the sulphurous whirlwind’s wing. Not when King David cried, My son, My son ! But when before him, on his throne reclin’d. Wav’d number’d hosts, like trees before the wind, — Look forth, the plague is now begun ! THE SOUTH PORCH. 199 Not when sick Hezekiah hid his brow. But when he, glorying, shew’d his treasur’d pride, ’Twas then the Angel took the veil aside, — Lo, Babylon, and chains, and woe ! The Babylonian, ’mid the heavenly stars Walk’d in his glory ; — when the sky was riven. Fell, like the thunder-bolt, the voice from Heaven, And the dark cloud his vision mars. The Eastern Queen of cities sat in state. Throwing unwonted lustre on night’s hall ; — Behold, the fiery hand is on the wall, The Mede is knocking at the gate. When Tyre with jewels deck’d her sea-born nest. Sitting in beauty ’mid her watery flock. The nations heard her cry : — upon the rock The lonely sea-bird sits to rest. NotwhenChrist’sflockwerewand’ring,earth-disown’d, But when on her seven hills, attir’d in gold. Sat Babylon, ’mid sorceries manifold, — ’Twas then the poison’d cup went round. At the vex’d Church’s feet, oppress’d and wrong’d. When Constantine laid down the imperial pride. Her gate once narrow she unfolded wide. And the mix’d world her temple throng’d. 200 THE SOUTH PORCH. When Liberty her triumph loudest rais’d. And on the popular billow William sail’d Into our thrones, Britain the stranger had’d, — The Church look’d on, and blindly gaz’d. Then her best sons were from the vineyard cast, Whde loyal Truth in secret sat to mourn. She knew not, of her strength and glory shorn. The leav’n to her deep bosom past. Since then, her children flock to Freedom’s shrine; She hath forgot her sackcloth, seeming fair, Her discipline, her penitence, and prayer ; And wakes all nerveless to restrain. When she hath hid her Cross, with glad accord The world will welcome her, in beauty shrin’d, And woo her charities, and, seeming kind. Stretch forth those hands that slew her Lord. Yea, often will she stop her gilded car. To hear of treasures op’d by pardon free, And fadeless joys, and calm eternity, — Then passion-borne hurry afar. Thus as her voice shall higher rise and higher. The Priests of God disown’d, His Word put by. Then shall the stars shake on the trembling sky, And forth shall break the Judgment-fire. PART III. ®f)e j&tepg to tijc (£f)otr. THE LITANY. I. Ye Litanies of ancient prayer. Here, in our holy ground. Ye rise a bright and crystal stair, Which clouds and gloom surround ; A crystal stair the purer Heavens ascending. Fair as the seas and skies, at evening’s portal blending. II. Fair as when, from yon western door. The showering sunbeams stream, And restless motes, which sink and soar. Shine in the silver gleam ; Thus shapes of human woe within that shrine Come forth, and catch the light, mingling with hope divine. 204 THE STEPS TO THE CHOIR. III. It is a stair which climbs a throne. Within a sacred tower. The tower of truth to man made known, — Mysterious love and power ; The soul- sustaining truth, of One in Three, And Three in One, enthron’d o’er the tumultuous sea 3 . IV. It is a stair descending low, ’Mid shapes of mortal ill, Into the deeps of sin and woe. Deeps opening deeper still, Till an upholding hand is stretched to raise From the unfathom’d gulf of sin- deluding ways b . V. It is a stair where, evermore, The Church’s duteous feet, On mysteries of Christian lore Ascend th’ Mercy-seat ; Brought near in Christ, she dares to intercede, And, in His robe array’d, for fallen man to plead c . The Invocation. The Obsecrations. The Deprecations. THE STEPS TO THE CHOIR. 205 VI. It is a stair by Love allow’d. Where Heaven-born Prayers may pass ; As when the sun looks on a cloud. When suddenly the mass Turns to a wondrous arch and glorious way. Built for Heaven’s messengers by the emerging ray. VII. Descending here with sky-lit lamp. They enter palaces d , Or cells of sorrow, dark and damp. With voice of sweet release. Now break the prison bars with gentle might, Now ope on sinful hearts kind Mercy’s cheering light. VIII. There Prayers may pass ; — I deem them not. As heathen poets told e , Forgetting man, by man forgot. Half-sighted, lame, and old, Following fleet-footed Ate round the earth To heal the woes she makes, not antedate their birth : The Intercessions for the King, &c. See Homer, b. ix. 498. 206 THE STEPS TO THE CHOIR. IX. But rather bright-hair’d Angel guests, Fair children of the skies, — And sure and swift on kind behests, And healing embassies, Quick as the light to th’ Heaven of Heavens ye spring, Then shake celestial air from your returning wing. X. Thus when of old, beneath the skies, Or holier aisles around. The Church her moving Litanies Like incense had unbound. Away had Pestilence and Famine fled. And Heresy had hid her bad embolden’d head. XI. And now where is her arm of strength, When all th’ unchristian rout Are gather’d, and are set at length Her Israel’s camp about ? ’Tis not in sword, or banded multitude, But in the hidden lamps, with heavenly oil endued. THE STEPS TO THE CHOIR. 207 XII. Invok’d by David’s son of old, Thy Presence rose to sight ; In courts of cedar and of gold, . Was shed the Living Light ; One more than David’s son for us hath prayed. Whose viewless presence fills His Church’s mystic shade. ® f) c ^Ipproacf) to tlje (£I)otr. DESPONDENCY. And is this all ? and what avail These cloistral watchings pale ? And what to walk in holy heed Beneath the o’erarching Creed ? Or track Heaven-lighten’d caves of thought. In prayer which Jesus taught ? These to His presence-chamber bring. Where, as an abject thing. In that true light for evermore We should ourselves deplore. ®f)e ^pproacj) to tlje ®f) otr. INVITATION. O drooping Sadness, whose wrapt gaze Hath been on face of slow-pac’d night Watching the beam of dawning light. Come here, and learn thy song of praise. O Singleness of eye and heart. Which fleetest over earthly things, Nor fold’st below thy weary wings. Here find thy rest, and take thy part. O sacred Awe, whose downcast look Is on the pavement of the shrine. Which all unearthly seems to shine. Look up, a healing Presence brook ! p Nature withdraws from human sight The treasures of her light ; In earth’s deep mines, or ocean’s cells, Her secret glory dwells. ’Tis darkly thro’ Night’s veil on high She shews the starry sky; And where of beauty aught is found, She draws a shade around; Nor fully e’er unveils to sense Steps of bright Providence. When out of Sion God appear’d For perfect beauty fear’d. The darkness was His chariot. And clouds were all about. Hiding His dread sublimity. When Jesus walked nigh. He threw around His works of good A holier solitude ; Ris’n from the grave appear’d to view But to a faithful few. THE SKREEN. 211 Alone e’en now, as then of old, The pure of heart behold The soul-restoring miracles Wherein His mercy dwells ; New marvels unto them reveal’d, But from the world conceal’d. Then pause, and fear, — when thus allow’d We enter the dark cloud, Lord, keep our hearts, that soul and eye Unharm’d may Thee descry. ©fjotr* THE SACRAMENTAL HYMN. I. 1. Men. Glory be to God on high : Beyond where dwells the evening star In his golden house afar ; Where upon th’ eternal noon Never look’d the silver moon ; Thro’ innumerable skies Multitudinous voices rise. And in harmonious concord meet, Around our Saviour’s feet, Beneath mysterious veils descending from His seat. 214 THE CHOIR. 2 . Angels. Peace be upon earth below: God is in His holy hill ; Let the earth and sea be still ; And the child of sin and woe Come before Him, bowing low; In His breast the living One Makes His altar and His throne ; He comes from Heaven’s high citadel, With men on earth to dwell, — The pure in heart alone shall see the Invisible. 3. Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above : From dwellings of th’ Eternal Word, Whose house is immortality. He letteth down the triple chord, Of Faith and Hope and Lcve from high ; And from His cradle to His throne Extends a living zone, Which binds anew the ancient heavens and earth, Now teeming with the throes of a more glorious birth. THE CHOIR. 215 II. 1. Men. Glory be to God on high : Angel faces stand aloof On the starry temple roof ; — Yonr bright-wing’d consistory Round our altars we deem nigh ; Now, in awe and dread amaze. From your crystal heights ye gaze ; And see the sun that lights you, sent From your deep firmament. And coming down with man to make his lowly tent. 2 . Angels. Peace be upon earth below : Wisdom deep in sacred lore Hides within her secret store, Like the sweet soul of the lyre, Slumbering in the silent wire ; But in Christ their blending tone. In responsive union, Rings out with solemn harmonies, The music of the skies, At whose heart-soothing sound the evil spirit flies. 216 THE CHOIR. 3 . Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above : The Law and Prophets here have won The glory of their Master’s light, As Moses and Elias shone With Him upon the mountain height : The Gospel in His light display’d, Is all translucent made. As when, reveal’d on Tabor’s holy ground. With light divinely burn’d His clothing’s skirts around. III. 1. Men. Glory be to God on high, Where, in bosom of all space. Sun and moon have found no place ; Where lies the waveless, shoreless sea Of eternal clarity ; Where the Saints have fled life’s woes To their haven of repose. And earth beneath them as they soar. Releas’d for evermore. Seems but a wither’d leaf on some bright wat’ry floor. THE CHOIR. 217 2 . Angels. Peace be upon earth below : Pride and envy have no place Where His sons God doth embrace; Where the fountain overflows, Whose full breast no lessening knows ; Where old Eden’s fallen towers The new tree of life embowers. That, fearless of the fiery brand, And bold in God’s command, There man may eat, and live, led by Angelic hand, 3. Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above : Here at His feast doth Love preside. Love weaves anew the nuptial tie, Love decks with health the living Bride, And clothes with holy poverty : The ancient Heavens, array’d in might. Walk their high paths of light, As Duty marshals their appointed way. But Love attunes their steps to an harmonious lay. 218 THE CHOIR. IV. 1. Men. Glory be to God on high, Where the armies of the skies. Stand in snowy galaxies. Fair as dreams, in bright platoon. Brighter than th’ Autumnal moon. Where many a wild avenue Draws afar the eager view ; And worlds, in darker distance sown, People the living zone. Like sparks that issue forth from Glory’s burning throne. 2 . Angels. Peace be upon earth below. Where in visions half divine Sunsets part, and parting twine Bridal robes of earth and sky, Passing fair, tho’ born to die ; Where unearthly hues adorn The advance of rising morn ; And dimly thro’ the gates of earth, ’Mid want, decay, and dearth, There wander embryo shapes which speak a heavenly birth. THE CHOIR. 219 3 . Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above : A little while I hid my face ; But Mercy shall to thee abound. Firm as the mountains in their place. With everlasting arms around : Yea, the strong mountains’ firm array. And hills, shall pass away, But in that hour my Love shall stand with thee, Rising from mists of Time, a mansion strong and free. V. 1. Men. Glory be to God on high : Bright and golden panoplies, Sweet Angelic harmonies. That, all dark to our weak sight. In the centre of all light. Sing, and singing sweetly move,- — ’Tween you and the fount of Love, There never yet came aught of blame. But, free from sin and shame. Fresh in your innocence ye lift your glad acclaim. 220 THE CHOIR. 2 . Angels. Peace be upon earth below. Where Repentance, lowly-wise. In spirit of self-sacrifice. Lowly bows her shame to feel. And her sin-wrought wounds to heal ; Till the breath of new desires. Here enkindling holy fires. Devours the seeds of death and sin. Until there stirs within A voice not all unmeet His praises to begin. 3 . Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above : Here encircling round Him swells The sea of boundless charity, Which thence doth work thro’ secret cells, Unnumber’d fountains to supply. Till through Creation’s utmost round Sweet flowing streams abound. Upon whose banks His creatures find repose, Where many a flower lies hid, or towering cedar grows. THE CHOIR. 221 VI. 1. Men. Glory be to God on high. Where the lov’d and lost ones meet Safe beneath their Saviour’s feet : Faces dear, ’tis now ye smile, Ye, whom I have miss’d awhile. Missing you, I long have hung Downcast, silent, and unstrung. And faint and feeble is the strain I e’er shall wake again. Until I join your lays beyond the reach of pain. 2 . Angels. Peace be upon earth below ; Seek ye, mourners, for release ? Here behold the cup of peace ! Here, with your poor fleshly ties, Are divinest sympathies ; Tho’ hid a little while from sight These spirits soft that cheer’d your night. They are but gone like stars of morn, Before the sun is bom ; — Still near you tho’ unseen His temple they adorn. 222 THE CHOIR. 3 . Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above : Tho’ death doth raise his veil between, Yet Thee in them, and them in Thee, We solemnize awhile unseen. And soon the cleansed sight shall see. The Church dwells here a sufferer still, Yet, born of heavenly birth. Her nurture is of heavenly food, until Her stature fills the sky, while she doth walk on earth. VII. 1. Men. Glory be to God on high : Where is Death, that uncouth thing ? He hath now a sheltering wing. Awful phantom, where art thou ? Heaven’s own bloom is on thy brow. Earth hath nothing half so fair ; Christ’s own flesh and blood is there. On thy cold lips and silent tongue A deathless health hath sprung. Which thro’ the days of Heaven for ever shall grow young. THE CHOIR. 223 2 . Angels. Peace be upon earth below. Shape of woe ! if form that be Which is but deformity, Death, the gloomy King of tears. Waited on by spectral fears, Now thy dark-illumin’ d shade Is in hope a solemn glade, That leadeth to the place of God. Christ is the staff and rod ; His Presence lights the vale which He Himself hath trod. 3 . Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above : The light breaks forth on shapes afar That darkly throng’d life’s closing gate, And there keeps watch a gleaming star. Where dismal shadows seemed to wait ; As clouds along the bending sky, Like mountains pil’d on high. When lo. Thy gentle gale Thou bidd’st to blow. And into empty air before Thy breath they go. 224 THE CHOIR. VIII. 1. Men. Glory be to God on high : God hath ris’n, and bent His bow, Lo, before His face they go, Discontent with fretting chain, Sin and sorrow, shame and pain. To night’s jail they troop away. Like mists before the rising ray. Which long hath climb’d conceal’d from sight, Then from some mountain height Majestically breaks upon the rear of night. 2 . Angels. Peace be upon earth below : Here there is a living cup — Wells of water springing up Unto life that cannot die, — The pledge of immortality ; ’Tis a fount of heavenly strength, — A sea of love with breadth and length Proportion’d to th’ undying soul, — The spirit of controul Which takes the reins of thought, and urges to the goal. THE CHOIR. 225 3. Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above : The bending Heavens have brought Him down From out their heights of highest height. The exil’d wanderer to own ; The abysses of the Infinite Are all about Him, — seas and sky Of glory, — ear and eye Cannot discern, nor speak the mortal tongue, But in the heart’s deep home the Spirit hath a song. IX. 1. Men. Glory be to God on high. Scarcely, earth’s new cradle round, Had ye rais’d your gladsome sound, When Creation drooping hung, And your alter’d descant rung : Then, to pleading Mercy given, Drops of pardon fell from Heaven, The thorn of sorrow bore the rose. Balm was in woman’s throes, And the dark gates of death the Lord of Life disclose. Q. 226 THE CHOIR. 2 . Angels. Peace be upon earth below, Nature smooth’d her mournful brow, When she saw the gleaming bow. Which encompass’d the dark place With the covenant of grace : Oft as down Heaven’s cloudy stair Comes that harbinger so fair. Glad Earth with incense-breathing dew, Her veil of sorrow through, Looks tearfully to Heaven, and grateful smiles anew. 3. Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above. As, o’er the flood-reviving earth That witness stands in Heaven secure, Thus o’er our new and better birth This Sacramental seal is sure : Until the sun shall make his bed. And Time be withered, The pledge of saving mercy shall remain ; None to His breast shall turn, and thither turn in vain a . Isaiah liv. 9, 10. THE CHOIR. 227 X. 1. Men. Glory be to God on high. When His people He would save. Seas hung back on wondering wave, And beheld their Master nigh. Marshalling their deeps on high ; Then beneath the watery wall Banner’d hosts went at His call. And safe were harbour’d, till again, Fresh bursting from his chain, With tumbling billows rush’d the bold avenging Main. 2 , Angels. Peace be upon earth below, Which life’s toils but rock to rest, Cradled on a Father’s breast. When the ark descended low Jordan’s streams forgot to flow. Bridling back their horned march To a hanging wavy arch, And, lo, upon the promis’d strand. There stood an armed Hand, No sword of yours doth gain this fair and flowery land. 228 THE CHOIR. 3. Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above. Lo, in the shadowy vale of years. Oft imag’d in redeeming love, ’Tis Christ the living Way appears. And leads to happier coasts above : — Ready to whelm on either hand. The awe-struck waters stand. And, with their ancient brethren of the sky. The ransom’d on the shore shall lift their song on high XI. 1. Men. Glory be to God on high. Who well knew, yet, knowing well, Lov’d His thankless Israel : He His hand upon the wild Open’d, and old Horeb smil’d ; Nature’s face was sear and lone. Helpless to sustain His own, Lo, on Sinai’s rugged side Heaven’s doors were open’d wide, They fed on Angels’ food, — but like their fathers died THE CHOIR. 229 2 . Angels. Peace be upon earth, below. Where the lone Bethsaida Looks upon the watery spray. Lifting up His sacred eyes, He brought blessings from the skies ; Ever to the hands anew Lo, th’ unearthly fragments grew ; But they who eat on that dread day. Death’s sure and silent prey, Liv’d but their mortal span, then pass’d from earth away. 3. Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above. But now behold the Sacrifice, On which alone the soul can live ; Higher than Heaven th’ uncounted price, The boon which nature cannot give ; Fast as His holy hand supplies, The blessing multiplies, ’Mid earthly vanities the Bread of Truth, And ’mid decay and death food of immortal youth. 230 THE CHOIR. XII. 1. Men . Glory be to God on high. From Thy skirts in mortal life Flow’d a stream with healing rife ; What new blessings shall attend The everlasting Friend, Coming from His holy seat In the living Paraclete ? The savour of celestial things In the deep bosom springs. And Faith o’er the cold heart extends her brooding wings. 2 . Angels. Peace be upon earth below. Soft as falls the heavenly dew. Weary nature to renew. Or the flakes, unearthly pure, Of the snowy coverture, Thus, too high for mortal sense, Christ His presence doth dispense, Seen in diviner sympathies. In sacred things made wise. And the deep Spirit’s voice of penitential sighs. THE CHOIR. 231 3 . Men and Angels. Good will to man from God above. Jesus hath left His flock below. And gone into the mount to pray For His disciples, left to go Without Him on the stormy way; They, when the storm their souls shall try. Shall see Him walking nigh. And find anon upon the heavenly shore, Where they shall go from Him on stormy waves no a This application, and the allusion in stanza II. 3, are from Origen. more 3 . Blessed id^lie womb that bare Thee, and the paps which Thou hast sucked. OT)C £aijn ffiiiaptt. Song of tf)c ISksseU Virgin. Yea, rather, blessed are they that hear the Word of God, and keep it. St. Luke si. 27, 28. Satis pel THE SONG OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN, [or the magnificat.] Methought I saw ’tween walls of deep decay, Where thro’ a mould’ring portal look’d the moon, A solitary Vestal kneel and pray. Within that aged temple all alone, With adoration still and pensive grown ; Thus in a tottering world, to ruin borne. The Church doth trim her lamp, and wait the morn. Tho’ worn with watching, and with sadness clad. Yet, oft as break the joyous stars on high, She with that Virgin-Mother’s song is glad, “ Tho’ poor am I, Thee will I magnify ; Tho’ no sublunar joy, nor hope have I, Nor pillow of repose, nor worldly choice, Yet I in God my Saviour will rejoice,” 236 THE LADY CHAPEL. For how can we in our own selves rejoice ? Our better hope it hath no certain stay, Our will no steadfastness, and when our choice Seems firmest set, pride shakes the tower of clay. Too high for lowly-building charity; Thou on Thy Church hast shower’d down Thy love, And we are rich in her, and Thee above. So in her gladness we to Heaven draw near. Renewing her primeval sympathies, And for ourselves keep humble-thoughted fear; It is the bridal of the earth and skies ; The Queen goes forth in gold embroideries. The light around her presence flows, and we Discern thereby our own deep poverty. Beneath her feet a silver anchor lies. She walks the clouds, and treads on human things. With look conversing with the eternal skies, And step — in act to spread her rising wings. We seize her mantle, ere she heavenward springs, And wait her voice, — from her no accent breaks. Her voice is with her God, her silence speaks. THE LADY CHAPEL. 237 “ On me Thy chosen treasures Thou hast pour’d. Thy never-failing riches, long foretold To Abraham’s seed, — the riches of Thy word ; Countless as stars, many and manifold. Glorious as they, and of Heaven’s purest gold ; Upon my head Thou settest Judah’s crown, Whose shadow lit the world, dimly foreknown. “ The princes of the world with all their state Have ris’n to welcome me, — to Thee I flee. The princes of the world with all their hate Have ris’n to trample me, — I joy in Thee. Naught need I fear but lest I should be free. When wed to Thee, — of Thine Anointing named, — And love the adult’rous world of Thee ashamed. f< My children builded for me goodly piles, And fill’d within with incense of sweet sound. Spreading and rising to the starry Isles ; But now my riches they have all unbound. And fain would tread my glories on the ground But I on Thee in my bereavement stay ; — Thou risest up, and they shall pass away. 238 THE LADY CHAPEL. “They clothe themselves with my magnificence. But it will bum their flesh like sackcloth sore ; They, "mid my heritage, which they dispense. Shall ever hunger still, and ask for more. I, in the nakedness of earthly store. Thine everlasting goodness will put on. And clothe me with Thy robe, as with the sun. “ While life is leading onward to the grave, Some new desire will at each turn engage; All pass, and leave us empty at death’s cave ; — Pleasure, ambition, ease ; — youth, manhood, age ; V arying with life’s advancing pilgrimage: In Thine unchanging care I would repose, Thine eye of watching, which doth never close. “ Nature shakes in the sun her ruffled plume. Rising more beauteous from her wintry state, And renovates afresh her faded bloom : While her new forms are teeming at life’s gate, Mine no fresh spring doth at death’s door await ; My mourning weeds with better hopes are clad. And I in God my Saviour will be glad. THE LADY CHAPEL. 239 “ O take me ’neath the shelter of Thy wing, And hide me, — of myself I am afraid, — From myself hide me, from th’ insidious spring Of bold high thoughts, in ambush darkly laid In the bad heart, as in a Stygian shade. And leagu’d the spirit’s peace to make their prey Till I the chains of life shall fling away.” ftfye ^arttng 'Foluntarg* The music dies — anon its slumbering wave Breaks forth, and from the opening flood-gate float - With its full tide along the echoing nave. Summoning to new strength its dying notes. Then sinks again, — like the last flash of light Fitfully breaking ere the fall of night. E’en thus on these our waning centuries, Feeble and faint, compar’d with earlier years, The Gospel broke, when there was seen to rise “ The second Temple and deserving tears a ;” ' Now bursts forth the last ebbing tide, — once more Aid our poor efforts till we gain the shore ! a See Herbert. The Church Militant. PART IV. PtUarg AND ® f? e 32H t n & o fo s. ®f)e Pillars of tf)e Katie. PATRIARCHS AND PROPHETS. “ And he reared up the pillars . . . one on the right hand, and the other on the left.” 2 Chron. iii. 17. “ Unto them that take hold of My covenant ; even unto them will I give in Mine house and within My walls a place and a name .... I will give them an everlasting name.” Isaiah Ivi. 4, 5. 244 THE PILLARS OF THE NAVE. NOAH. Father of nations ! what high thoughts endued And arm’d thy soul with matchless fortitude, Walking with God, in tranquil wisdom strong, ’Mid turbulence, and violence, and wrong ? Sole star descried in that tempestuous night. Sole thing of life in that o’erwhelming blight ! It was the stronger Man, Eve’s promised Son, Bound Death’s strong arm within thee, and put on His armour : it was Christ in thee enshrin’d. Stretching imploring hands to lost mankind. In thee His feet found “ rest” amid the gloom, Noah, great name of comfort a ! Lights illume The darkness, where He comes with thee to stay ; And, on th’ horizon’s verge, a heavenly ray Surrounds thee, while the black baptismal flood Seems but to lift thee, in thy solitude. Nearer th’ aerial hall, to walk among The stars of Heaven ; — such hopes to faith belong. In that frail bark Christ, our Emmanuel, Is passing o’er that more than ocean’s swell, Where seas and skies the gathering darkness fills, Bearing His own to the celestial hills. a Noah, i. e. “rest or comfort .” See margin, Gen. v. 29. THE PILLARS OF THE NAVE. 245 ABRAHAM. Great emblem of the righteous, who shall stand Girt with bright clouds on the eternal strand, And see the world in ruin going by. Stood Abraham, and for Sodom look’d from high. Behind a misty bank, skirted with gold. The morning was contending, to unfold And open all the gloom, where lightnings now Retiring shew’d black waters far below ; And nothing but destruction seem’d alive. Save where was seen a hurrying fugitive With his two daughters, suddenly reveal’d, And Zoar — by dark clouds again conceal’d. ’Twas on that mount where, at last evening’s close. He stood with God ; strengthen’d with thoughts that rose On his true soul, when importuning love Long interceded, nor all vainly strove. Was it in that dread hour that Bethlehem’s star Gleam’d on thy sorrowing heart, and shew’d afar That Corning 15 , which shall light this vale of woe ? Sure that deep calm was thine, which spirits know When, first awak’ning from the world’s alarms, They feel beneath the everlasting arms. b John viii. 56. 246 THE PILLARS OF THE NAVE. JOSEPH. Into some wave, which heedless night- winds rock. The moon comes down with all her starry flock : Her glorious imagery around her brings, And forms a temple of celestial things. Thus, sweet- soul’ d Joseph, as thy life ran on, Each scene disclos’d anew th’ eternal Son, Till all thou didst, on thy meek purpose bent. Became in thee divinely eloquent, Presenting thee, in all that hurried by. The mirror of some holier history. Tried by th’ adult’rous world, temptation-proof. But “number’d with transgressors 0 .” Now aloof Thou sitt’st on high, — around the heathen press. And from thine hand are fill’d with plenteousness. But who are these ? lift up thine eyes, — behold Thy brethren, they who set at nought, and sold ! Bid all depart. — Ye little company. Come ye around, behold me, “it is I d ,” Feel me, fear not ! the prisoner’s chain unbind : But who is he that lingers yet behind, “ Out of due time e ?” let ye the stranger in, ’Tis mine own Paul, mine own lov’d Benjamin f . c St. Mark xv. 28. e 1 Cor. xv. 8. d St. Luke xxiv. 39. f Phil. iii. 5. THE PILLARS OP THE NAVE. 247 MOSES. Mortal, endow’d with more than Angel’s grace ! Admitted to approach, and face to face Converse with God ; upon the mount profound. While the thick Darkness sentry kept around ; Or ’neath His feet, when, in the sapphire stone. The body of the Heavens in clearness shone s. All nature at thy bidding stood aghast ; And tempests came and went with ready blast ; xAnd the wild sea drew up his watery bands. To save or to destroy at thy commands. Thus didst thou shadow forth the Living Word Who spoke in thee, and nature knew its Lord. Cleft at thy rod was the obedient stone, And waters learn’ d a sweetness not their own : But more obdurate than the hardy rock. Less yielding than the waves, thy stubborn flock. Thus from an ardent soul the meekest man Came forth ; for so, in the eternal plan. Do outward circumstance and inward toil In stern probation join; ’mid the turmoil Faith sits at the soul’s helm, the storm to brave. And gains the haven against wind and wave. s Exod. xxiv. 10. 248 THE PILLARS OF THE NAVE. JOSHUA. By Jericho’s doom’d towers who stands on high, With helmet, spear, and glittering panoply ? “The Christian soldier, like a gleaming star, “Train’d in the wilderness to iron war.” Take off thy shoes, thy promis’d land is found, The place thou standest on is holy ground 11 . “ Take Thou the shield and buckler, stop the way “ Against mine enemies ! be Thou my stay ! ” I am thy rock, thy castle ; I am He Whose feet have dried up the Egyptian sea : Fear not, for I am with thee ; put on might ; ’Gainst thrones and powers of darkness is the fight. “ I go, if Thou go with me ; ope the skies, “ And lend me Heaven-attemper’d armories.” Gird Truth about thee for thy mailed dress 1 , And for thy breastplate put on Righteousness ; For sandals, beauteous Peace ; and for thy sword The two- edg’d might of God’s unfailing word ; Make golden Hope thy helmet : on, and strive : — He that o’ercometh in those courts shall live. Whose crystal floor by heavenly shapes is trod, “ A pillar in the temple of my God k .” h Joshua v. 15. 5 Ephes. vi. 14, 15. k Rev. iii. 12. THE PILLARS OF THE NAVE. 249 DAVID. The shepherd’s staff, the sceptre, and the sword, And Faith’s victorious sling, and tuneful chord Rife with prophetic minstrelsies, was thine. Sweet son of Jesse ! and such grace divine Shed beauty o’er thy ways, that thou wast prov’d Princely and chief in all, till on thee mov’d The eyes and hearts of men. From Heaven came down Such rays of grace, and, forming a bright crown Around thy brow, mark’d Jesse’s honour’d stem. The morning star of royal Bethlehem. But not the shepherd’s crook, sceptre, nor sword. Nor the lov’d tones of poet’s tuneful chord, Wherein were hid prophetic mysteries. Nor love of all men’s hearts and wond’ring eyes. Nor Sion’s rising towers, nor Carmel’s hill. Nor visions which the minstrel’s bosom fill. The varying robe of day, and beauteous night, Could meet the yearnings of his longing spright. When his full heart upon the soothing wires Broke forth, and pour’d therein his deep desires, — ■ “ Thee, Lord, alone I seek, to keep Thy door, “ And dwell within Thy courts for evermore.” 250 THE PILLARS OF THE NAVE. ELIJAH. Stern, awful was thy mercy, Tishbite seer, To close Heaven’s crystal doors, for three long year. With bands of thy strong prayer, and from men’s eyes To sweep each cloud from the offended skies. Sure our apostate land is worse than thine. Nor know we what to seek, what to decline. Where wast thou wafted o’er earth’s azure roof, Borne on the whirlwind wheel and fiery hoof ? From whence thou earnest forth to realms of sight. With Moses on the mount in radiant light ; And by the gifted eye of Faith wast seen In the stern Baptist’s vest and awful mien. From Heaven’s calm mansions and ethereal cell. Where thou beyond the summer clouds dost dwell, Wilt thou again upon the earth appear, In living form, or type, or vision clear. To harbinger the great Elisha’s sway. The coming in of the eternal day ? Full much we need thee, and thy mantle strong, To part the rising waters ! Envious wrong And filial disobedience 1 lift on high Their swelling waves, and seem to threat the sky. 1 Malachi iv. 6. THE PILLARS OF THE NAVE. 251 ELISHA. The Great Elisha may I call Thy name. Eternal Saviour, and be free from blame ? E’en as the sun, in things of meanest worth, His coming and his going shadows forth | From image unto image, so art Thou i Full oft anew reveal’d ; Elijah now Lone wandering, then Elisha’s loftier seat. The Son of man, and then the Paraclete™. Thou wast mysterious veil’d in growing bread 0 ; i Thou in the Sacramental oil didst shed i Thine undiminish’d Spirit, flowing o’er The widow’d Church’s vessels evermore 0 . It is Thy figure in the dead man’s bones, | ATiere charnel’d death life-givingP virtue owns ; I Tis Thou in unapproached purity, \Nho smit’st Thy foes with eyes that cannot see 9: ! Awhile Thine own friends discern a rampart round, j A T here cars and horse of living flame abound. I I was Thy word turn’d the baptismal wave )f Jordan to Thy blood, with power to save r . day we in that sure word that cannot fail, 'trike seven times, and seven times prevail s !. m Elijah seems a type of Christ in the days of His flesh; Elisha i His Church. n 2 Kings iv. 44*. 0 Ibid. iv. 6. ti Ibid. xiii. 21. * Ibid. vi. 18: and John xii. 40. Ibid. v. 10, 14. 8 2 Kings xiii. 19. 252 THE PILLARS OF THE NAVE. ISAIAH. Deep vision’d son of Amoz ! with fix’d gaze And full-tranc’d eyelid, when the illumin’d rays Fell on thy heart, and to thy ravish’d sense Rose future scenes hid in Omnipotence : — Whether when hell was moved, and from its thronl Arose to greet the crowm-less Babylon*, Or lifted earth, and the descending sky In vocal gladness blend, as feeling nigh The coming of th’ eternal Jubilee ; And mountains find a voice, and the glad sea Listens with all his isles u : or from thy brow A hand unseen the curtain lifts, and, lo. Dread judgments lower o’er guilty Israel; And, by near shadows made more visible. Bright scenes come forth; like landscapes, bafflin thought, Pictur’d afar on hanging clouds, and brought To a strange nearness ; fairer than the state Which evening pours upon Heaven’s western gate, Or music opens, with a touch of light Bringing lost Eden on the inward sight*. At every turn the Man of sorrow? stands, Bearing the key 2 to those unearthly lands. 1 Isaiah xiv. 9. u Ibid. xlii. 10 — 12. x Ibid. li. 3 y Ibid. liii. 3. * Ibid. lv. 3 ; comp. Rev. iii. 7. THE PILLARS OF THE NAVE. 253 JEREMIAH. “ Come, see, was ever sorrow like to mine a ?” What more than human woe, dread Voice, is thine. While armed shapes of terror throng the cloud. Which over Judah brings destruction’s shroud b ? Carrying our griefs, and supplicating still. It is the Man of sorrows c climbs the hill Of Calvary : o’er Salem shedding tears d . In Anathoth’s sad Seer He witness bears. “Come, see, was ever sorrow like to mine?” From age to age still sounds that voice divine. Still Sion’s virgin daughter heaves the sigh, “ Say, is it nought to you, ye that pass by ?” Ye Heavens, be hung with sackcloth, and thou earth Shorn of thy beauty ! let the robe of dearth Clothe the green mountains ! they their Maker own, But of mine Israel I am not known. “ Seek ye the ancient paths, and ye shall live e ;” But they cry out, “ We will not.” I would strive. But strong-arm’d vengeance, as it grows more deep, Holds them in her embrace and lays asleep. While I o’er your destruction watch and pine,- — “ Come, see, was ever sorrow like to mine?” a Lam. i. 12. b Jer. iv. 13. d Jer. ix. 1 ; comp. Luke xix. 41. c Lam. iii. 1. e Ibid. vi. 16. 254 THE PILLARS OF THE NAVE. EZEKIEL. Lend me the key which opes the secret cells. Where, in His words and works, the Godhead dwells As nearer we approach Him, all things throng Vocal with heavenly language, and a tongue Speaking in figure, where the East descries The glowing footsteps of th’ unfolded skies. By Chebar’s flood, around the Prophet come Dread speaking faces, peopling all the gloom. And Cherubim with Cherubim do ply Their wheeling wings, and fiery shapes pass by. Or, with the swiftness of a flying star. He in Jerusalem is found afar f . Now Egypt, the great dragon, netted lies ’Mid his own waters S; or the seas arise O’er Tyre, the princely ship that walk’d the waves h ; Now Lebanon’s Cedar the strong tempest braves 1 . E’en now, as then, in images of fire Men see the flashes of th’ Almighty’s ire. Admire, and tremble not ; they come around And listen to the Church, as to the sound Of a sweet lovely song, or tuneful reed, And hear her awful voice, but do not heed k . f Ezek. xl. 2. g Ibid, xxxii. 3. h Ibid, xxvii. 26 5 Ibid. xvii. 23. k Ibid, xxxii. 32. THE PILLARS OF THE NAVE. 255 DANIEL. We sit beside the streams of Babylon, ’Neath willowy shades, and hang our harps thereon, Rememb’ring Sion. What strong chords of love Shall bind the exile to his home above? Lov’d intercessor, thou the arts canst tell Which draw from Heaven that all- constraining spell ; Whether thou sitt’st by Hiddekel’s broad stream. Or where on Ulai sleeps the noonday beam ; Or stand’st with outstretch’d hands in palace hall. Where fiery characters night’s shades appal. It is in steadfast prayer, the earnest eyes Set toward the living temple of the skies, — Stern hardihood, ’mid fasts and watches won, — And that pure lamp that shall outshine the sun, The virgin soul, — these, in thy breast inurn’d. All glowing thoughts to love seraphic turn’d : Until an ear in wakeful trance was given, Converse to hold with pursuivants of Heaven ; An eye, the shapes in Time’s dark womb to scan. And see amid the clouds the Son of Man; A better boon than sons or daughters fair, To find a place within God’s House of Prayer 1 . 1 Isaiah lvi. 4, 5. I &f)e ^tllars of tf) c ©fjotr, APOSTLES. “ Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God.” Rev. iii. 12. “ And the wall of the City had twelve foundations ; and in them the names of the twelve Apostles of the Lamb.” Rev. xxi. 14. s 258 THE PILLARS OF THE CHOIR. ST. PETER. With what full eyes of wonder wast thou bent Upon each passing look, each act intent 3 , Fix’d on the Son of Man with earnest gaze. While on thy heart the Father shed His rays, Till gradual He disclos’d the mighty whole, And the dread Godhead open’d on thy soul ! As step by step thou followedst close around And nearest, deeper spells thy spirit bound. Watching each light, and shade, and speaking glance. That mark’d thy Master’s awful countenance : Till, unreveal’d of man, thy God and Lord Thy tongue acknowledg’d, and thy heart ador’d ; And thou wast meet to climb unto the fount Of glory, seen on Tabor’s secret mount. Thence to that faith, as to a firm- set rock, With thee the ransom’d of all ages flock, Where the dread Twelve are met, who hold the keys Which ope and close Heaven’s ivory palaces. Thus some fair star, on its ethereal way. Seems gazing on the golden orb of day, And drinks his radiance, till itself, made bright. When the Sun sinks, for others lights the night. a See Tracts for the Times, No. 80. p. 31. THE PILLARS OF THE CHOIR. 259 ST. ANDREW. Oh that, ere death shall close my eyes in sleep, I might behold that Galilean deep. Sun-gilded waves, and hill- embosom’d strand. Where Andrew dwelt with his fraternal band ! Andrew, who saw and heard the Living Word, And came, and then brought Peter to the Lord : Andrew, next added to that favour’d three b , School’d in Christ’s lore upon their native sea. Blest sight ! to see those heights which round them clos’d. When holy eyes on their dark shapes repos’d ; To watch those gales which came upon the deep, When in that hold their Lord was laid asleep ; To see those rocks where dwelt their thoughts of home. And ’neath that glowing firmament to roam. Move on the sea they moved, and there behold The moon and stars which they beheld of old ! But ah, far more, when death hath clos’d my eyes, Might I but see, beyond those eastern skies. By Andrew led, where, round our Saviour’s feet. The holy Twelve in sweet communion meet In their last haven, on that stable shore. Beside that crystal sea for evermore ! b See St. Mark xiii. 3. 260 THE PILLARS OF THE CHOIR. ST. JAMES THE GREAT. One of that chosen three, who found such grace To be admitted to the secret place Of His life-giving Presence, from the sight Of the rude world there lost in radiant light. Nor know we aught of thee, — the great and good. The son of thunder, and baptiz’d in blood, — Nor thought, nor word, nor deed. ’Tis ever so : In shadow of His hand He hides below Those who His Presence seek ; Himself unseen And His good Angels, in that blissful skreen He gathers them in silence, to abide Beneath His shrouding wings and sheltering side. Tho’ visibly beheld ’mid suffering men, His name is “ Secret 0 ;” nor can mortals ken His Sion’s haunts, the mount invisible Where He ’mid Saints and Angels deigns to dwell. Whether allow’d to Tabor’s secret height. Or sorrows of Gethsemane, or sight And solemn chambers of relenting death. Where Heaven’s full power is seen o’er parting breath d ; The world but sees them share His humbling rod Unto the door ; — then leaves them with their God. c Judges xiii. 18. d The Transfiguration, the Agony in the garden, and the raising of Jairus’s daughter, were the occasions when St. Peter, St. James, and St. John, were alone present. THE PILLARS OF THE CHOIR. 261 ST. JOHN. “ Amen. E’en so, Lord Jesus, come.” O why Tarry so long Thy chariot- wheels, while I, I only yet remain, and, one by one, The tried companions of Thy Love are gone ; And I, all dearest treasures gone before. Am left upon the solitary shore ? So better may I learn “ Thy will be done For whom have I in Heaven, but Thee alone ? And whom have I on earth, but only Thee ? Therefore, with one foot on the stormy sea, And one foot fix’d on the eternal strand. Thou hold’st me by Thy never-failing hand. Before Thy face, that bringeth in the day. The mountains and the hills shall flee away, The sun and stars in darkness make their bed. And forth the Bridal City shall be led ; For Thy blest City needs not sun or moon. But in Thy face hath its unwaning noon e . Therefore alone in Thy eternal Love I. seek for refuge ; Thee in Heaven above. And Thee below ! Blest they who, day and night Serve Thee, and have their dwelling in Thy sight ! e Rev. xxi. 23. 262 THE PILLARS OF THE CHOIR. ST. PHILIP. Hast Thou so long been with us, gracious Lord, And yet have we not known Thee f ? while Thy word Within us and about us wraps around. Impalpable as th’ air ? Thine eye is found In th’ heart of hearts, and Thy sustaining hand ; And all events, arrang’d at Thy command. Are but th’ unfoldings of a Father’s care. Unsought for, and responsive to our prayer, — And yet have we not known Thee ? have we brought Others to Thee^, and Thy true wisdom taught, — And yet not known Thee ? By our home retreat, Our own Bethsaida h , “ Have ye here no meat ?” Thou seem’st to say, that so Thou mightest lead To feel our own deep want, in that our need. Of all true bread that satisfies, that we Might turn, and hang our famish’d souls on Thee ; Thousands at Thy good word with food abound. And shew that Thy live presence dwells around, — And yet have we not known Thee ? have not known The all-transcending circle and the crown Of Thy deep Love ? — still know Thee not, nor find The Father’s image within Thee enshrin’d 1 ? f St. John xiv. 9. e Ibid. xii. 22. h Ibid. vi. 5. * Ibid. xiv. 10. THE PILLARS OP THE CHOIR. 263 ST. BARTHOLOMEW. Come forth, Nathanael, from the fig-tree’s shade. And see, where, down yon mountain’s solemn glade, The lowly Nazareth, in the summer even, Shines in the sunbeams, like a gate of Heaven ! ’Mid those poor walls. Heaven opens to thy prayer. And Angels pass upon the crystal stair. And who within that tabernacle’s light Shall dwell, but thou, the guileless Israelite 11 ? Thine is the art of artless souls, true seer ! To know thy God in all things standing near. Divine prerogative ! The blameless soul, Its own simplicity, its sweet control. Leads on, and, like a guardian spirit, brings Into the Palace of the King of kings 1 . The Mount of God. To Him all nature stirs. Ranging herself in glowing characters ; Seen thro’ Faith’s light’ning mirror ; blooming skies Come down on earth and sea, like vernal dyes. Speaking of Resurrection ; — all are rife And animate with forms of beauteous life, Unseen before ; ’mid busiest scenes below. The messengers of Mercy come and go. k Ps. xv. 1 : comp. St. John i. 47. St. Matt. v. 8. 264 THE PILLARS OF THE CHOIR. ST. MATTHEW. Nor Pharisaic school, nor harness’d train Of Roman state, nor pow’r, nor thoughtful gain. Nor breezy lake, where circling mountains rise. Nor Lebanon’s snowy top in summer skies. Could to thy longing eyes afford repose. Good Levi, till they found the Man of woes ! , Beneath thy lowly roof I see Him come m . An honour’d guest ; the Pharisee’s stem gloom Sitting aloof, — in calm and humble gaze The Galilean twelve, — th’ half-pleas’d amaze Of Publicans, — and mourning Eremite Shrinking apart : yet seen, or out of sight. Manifold words of wisdom find them out. And in each heart an eye that looks throughout. But, lo, again his hospitable store Levi prepares, unfolding wide the door Of his blest Gospel, ’neath whose sacred roof All may behold the Christ, and learn by proof. E’en now, as then, within each secret soul An eye is found, seek we or shun control. All see the Son of Man ; each doth invest His form with hues deep drawn from His own breast. m St. Luke v. 29, &c. THE PILLARS OF THE CHOIR. 265 ST. THOMAS. Blessed are they who, needing no loud sign 11 Of reason, or felt proof, or voice divine, Believing, love ; and, loving, ask not sight ! They on the bosom of the Infinite Have been, and there in Faith for ever lie ; Believe because they love, and ask not why: But on His bosom he they all day long, And drink His words, and are refresh’d and strong; Thro’ all Thy works. Thee, Lord, at every turn. Thro’ all Thy Word, Thee and Thy Cross discern; Shrine within shrine, and hall encircling hall. Pass unto Thee, to Thee, the All in All. Thine too are they, of ruder sense, who deem Such thoughts but fancies of the mystic’s dream ; Then, to their questioning and ruder sense. In palpable and solemn evidence Thy presence breaks, in providential change Defying thought, or visitation strange: They see and feel Thy hands and pierced side. Worship, and their adoring heads would hide. Such dwell in Thy blest courts, and see Thy face. But not most near Thine altar have their place. » St. John xx. 29. 266 THE PILLARS OF THE CHOIR. ST. JAMES THE LESS. Where death’s deep shade the ruin’d Salem shrouds, A covenanted bow amid the clouds Opens a brighter city to disclose, Wherein the Son of Man, in dread repose. Is walking ’mid the candlesticks of gold. And the seven stars in His right hand doth hold 0 . First in the kingdom of the Crucified, Unto the Son of God in flesh allied. And more allied in suffering, James, the Just, Bears the new keys of Apostolic trust p. And well we deem that ’twas thine only pride To bear the Cross on which thy Master died, In daily dying ; by self-chast’ning care. Vigil, and fast, to unloose the wings of Prayer From bodily weight, and win Faith’s hallow’d spell, Which breaks from captive souls the chains of helH. So putt’st thou on Christ’s loyal poverty. Looking thro’ earth, as with an Angel’s eye, With all its wealth like the fair flow’ring grass, Whereon Christ’s words of woe already pass Like some hot burning wind: while Patience mild Drinks Heaven’s pure light, and vigour undefil’d r . 0 Rev. ii. 1. p The first Bishop of Jerusalem. 1 St. Mark ix. 29. r St. James i. 10 — 12. THE PILLARS OF THE CHOIR. 267 ST. JUDE. One glory kindles night’s aerial blue, But clothes each star with its distinctive hue ; One light from crystal dew drops on the thorn Calls forth the varied jewels of the morn: And, in that little band of Jesus blest, To whom our Lord “Himself did manifest,” And who on Him in answ’ring love are bent, Faith doth in each a varying form present. Thus that deep voice, O Jude, is all thine own, Tho’ Christ is heard in thy dread warning tone. And speaks in thee, exhorting with arm’d s heed To wrestle for the everlasting Creed. Unfolding ever to our feeble sight In endless forms, we see the Infinite ; ; Nor doth the varied human countenance, So manifold in shape and speaking glance, Range through more boundless changes, than doth Love In spirits which are born of God above. Thus, Lord, when, from Thy vessels of rude clay, Thou makest up Thy jewels on that day, Their diverse hues, with Thy pure lustre sown. Shall blend to form Thy many-colour’d crown. 8 'E-raya m£eofo. THE NATIVITY. “ And the City had no need of the Sun, neither of the Moon, to shine in it : for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.” Rev. xxi. 23. Sweet sounds on high this night have birth. And sounds as sweet on earth ; Where Heaven is heard, from a bright stooping cloud, With music ringing loud: Less than angelic voice might well be mute. Such more than Heavenly theme to suit. The stars of night are drawing near, Each on his crystal sphere, That Angel’s voice to hear ; And, from their mazy rout, That walks the Heavens about, They send a silver scout, THE WESTERN WINDOW. 271 A glowing pursuivant, To lead the hearts and eyes Of men celestial wise, To where, around the homely shed of want. The infinite deep skies their legion’ d squadrons plant. See, the rays. His brows adorning. Are the light of endless morning, From that lowly cradle shining; O’er the Heaven-born Babe reclining. With a more than speaking gaze Blending joy with dread amaze. Hangs the holy Mother maid : While, within the darker shade. Comes there round a wond’ring group, — Some gaze, and some adoring stoop; And the ox with horned brow Stands beside ; and, bending low. He whose shoulders graven deep Aye his Master’s mark shall keep. Unconscious that their Lord is there. Their heritage of pain to bear. See throughout the casement drear The old mountains standing near: Is it Heaven, or is it earth. Which is gath’ring round His birth ? 272 THE WESTERN WINDOW. For within the womb of night There hath sprung unwonted light : Lo, where, startled at the day, Darkness looks into the room : * And, afar, within the gloom War and Rapine haste away From light, around His childhood streaming; And, with half-averted brow. Pride is hast’ning down below, ’Mid the darker shadows gleaming. Hasten with light-footed glee. Let us join the jubilee, Where the shepherd and the king. And angelic squadrons sing; — Over sea, and over land, Knitted in one brother’s band; Where the joyous accents run. Never ending, ne’er begun, And the Heavens take up the song. With harmonious thunders strong, And twice ten thousand worlds the wondrous theme prolong. j&ttu &2&int)ofos. ANCIENT FATHERS. “ Behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires ; and I will make thy windows of agates.” Isaiah liv. 11, 12. “ And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament.” Daniel xii. 3. T 274 THE SIDE WINDOWS. CLEMENT OF ROME. As heavenly blue breaks on a troubled deep, A voice of gentle blame. From the calm grave where Paul and Peter sleep, Unto their children came, From Rome to Corinth. O’er the rising din It swell’d, as from their purer seats above. And, like a solemn undersound therein, Paul’s moving tone. It was thy watchful love, j Clement, whose name is in the book of life 3 ; The while thy Church, true to Heaven’s sacred mould, ’Mid persecution, poverty, and strife, Glorious within, and wrought of purest gold. Began ’mid hanging mists her greatness to unfold. a Phil. iv. 3. THE SIDE WINDOWS. 275 IGNATIUS. As, one by one, stars on the eastern space Come forth, while day-light fades. And greet each other to their heavenly place, Thus, while death’s deepening shades Darken around thy steps in stranger lands. Sweet awful memories of thine own St. John Wake round thee ; martyr’d Peter beckoning stands, And stirs again the Spirit’s benison Giv’n thro’ his hands : upon the selfsame road, Lo, the bright footsteps of the death-bound Paul! Thy soul is fann’d to burning hardihood; We hear in thee the Bridegroom’s warning call. And full of glowing life thy dying accents fall. 276 THE SIDE WINDOWS. POLYCARP. Angel of Smyrna, child of John, And friend of that beloved one. Beloved of Him Whose love is life. How didst thou, left to worldly strife. Bear with thee, as in holiest trance. The music of that countenance, Which spoke the wisdom of the skies And his own Master’s charities? Again that voice b from Patmos came With auguries of thy couch of flame c . And bore his Saviour’s praise to thee, Whose praise is immortality, — “ To death be faithful Me to own, “And I will give to thee life’s never-fading crown.’ b Rev. ii. 8. “ Unto the Angel of the Church in Smyrn write,” &c. * He had dreamed three days before his martyrdom, that h was sleeping on a pillow of fire. THE SIDE WINDOWS. 277 JUSTIN. Upon the solitary shore Stood Justin, wrapt in Plato’s lore. Seeking-, with self-abstracted mind. The beatific light to find. A grey-hair’d man on that lone wild. With venerable aspect mild. Before him came, and bade him scan Visions too high for sinful man : — “ Pray thou to God both day and night “To ope to thee the gates of light, “ Reveal’d of God in Christ alone d .” In Justin’s breast a fire was sown ; — Borne heaven- ward in that glowing flame, His mantle he let fall, a Martyr’s honour’d name. d Dialog, cum Tryph., p. 218. 278 THE SIDE WINDOWS. IREN/EUS. From new-born Lyons oft thy memory turn’d Unto the earlier East, and fondly yearn’d For Poly carp and Smyrna, and the youth Of grave Religion fair. But wakeful Truth Within Tradition’s 6 holy citadel Kept watch, and her stamp’d treasures guarded well, Her Apostolic store ; thou by her light Didst guide the bark amid the gathering night Of heresies, and th’ helm didst sternly hold. Lifting a martyr’s voice, serene and bold. Would that again thy city of the Rhone Might break her Roman bonds, and thee her champion own ! e See passages from Irenaeus quoted by Mr. Keble, in his Sermon on Primitive Tradition, p. 24. first edit. THE SIDE WINDOWS. 279 TERTULLIAN. How art thou fallen ! seeking, ’mid the stars To set thy nest; unloos’d from fleshly bars. Striving the chasten’d soul “ to wind too high” For one encompass’d with humanity ! Could not thy Mother’s milk and quiet breast Suffice thee, nurturing to Eden’s rest? Thou wast her glory ; and the fiend of pride Ne’er could have won thee from her peaceful side, Were he not trick’d in guise of lowliness. Thou art her glory still ; and she no less Puts on the armouries of thy soberer soul, And reads from thy sad fall her lesson of control. 280 THE SIDE WINDOWS. CLEMENT OF ALEXANDRIA f . Methought I saw a face divinely fair, With nought of earthly passion ; the mild beam Of whose bright eye did in mute converse seem With other countenances, and they were. Gazing on her, made beautiful. Their theme Was One that had gone up the heavenly stair. And left a fragrance on this lower air. The contemplation of His Love supreme. And that high form held forth to me a hand : — It was celestial Wisdom, whose calm brow Did of those earthly Sciences inquire. If they had of His glory aught retain’d : — Yes! I would be admitted to your choir. That I may nothing love on earth below. f These thoughts are suggested by the Stromata, b. v. 555 . THE SIDE WINDOWS. *281 ORIGENS. Into God's word as in a palace fair. Thou leadest on and on, while still, beyond Each chamber, touch’d by holy Wisdom’s wand. Another opes, more beautiful and rare ; And thou in each art kneeling down in prayer. From link to link of that mysterious bond Seeking for Christ ; but oh, I fear thy fond And beautiful torch, that with so bright a glare Lighteth up all things, lest thy Heaven-lit brand And thy serene Philosophy divine Should take the colourings of earthly thought. And I, by their sweet Images o’erwrought. Led by weak Fancy, should let go Truth’s hand. And miss the way into the inner shrine. s On reading his Commentaries on Scripture. 282 THE SIDE WINDOWS. CYPRIAN. But who is this upon the pictured pane With stole deep-dyed in blood, No countenance amid that Saintly train Of sterner fortitude ? Cyprian, Saint, Bishop, Martyr ! forth he stands In the rich glow of Afric’s burning sky, To us of other tongues and other lands In our own native eloquence brought nigh h . To thee, another Carthage, he comes near. Tyre of the Western wave, in warning brought! Thence may’st thou learn a sterner faith and fear, For hues of Heaven Time cannot bring to nought, Still fresh the Martyr’s blood flows in each glowing thought. h The Oxford Translation of his works. THE SIDE WINDOWS. 283 DIONYSIUS OF ALEXANDRIA. j Tho’ thy sweet eloquent spirit knew no chains In thought’s o’erflowing store, [ Lost are thy letter’d toils, — scarce aught remains, — Lost on Oblivion’s shore ! ! Yet not all lost ; but laid upon His breast In Whom they have their origin and end. Part He conceals, and part makes manifest, Each as may best to His good purpose tend. | j It matters not, — for we must soon be gone. And things of earth most cherished, are like hues :! Of sun- set, fading from us one by one, Tho’ heavenly rays a passing grace infuse ; Till ours and our own selves we in His Being lose. 284 THE SIDE WINDOWS. HIPPOLYTUS. Martyr and Bishop, honour’d name* Thine earthly place unknown. Whom East and West alike may claim. But neither prove their own ! Thine eye seems watching every where. And every where divines The Antichrist approaching near, ’Mid dread portending signs. Thus like a spirit, with subtle grace, Thou thro’ all lands dost glide ! For he who no where hath his place Doth every where abide ; Of Antichrist meet harbinger: — For ’neath each distant sky He nor in time nor place can err. Who deems Christ’s coming nigh. THE SIDE WINDOWS. 285 GREGORY THAUMATURGUS. Thine Angel led thee by the hand To thy lov’d Origen, Taught to forget thy father’s land, And sit with holy men. Thro’ varied wilds of knowledge fair He lured to sacred lore. And bade thee knock with earnest prayer. Till Faith should ope the door 1 . And well I ween that at Heaven-gate Thy hand did knock, till Love Came forth, all arm’d with unseen state. The mountains to remove. For thou art known to latest time The “wonder-working” sage. Who could a rude barbaric clime To Christian love engage. 5 See Origen’ s Letter to Gregory. 286 THE SIDE WINDOWS. ATHANASIUS. A sea of troubles tried thee, till at length. Borne back by thy strong sinew, they uprear’d Thy might, and sternly bore thee in thy strength Onward, till on the Eternal Rock appear’d Truth’s loyal champion, to all time rever’d. Great Athanasius ! beaten by wild breath Of calumny, of exile, and of wrong, Thou wert familiar grown with frowning death. Looking him in the face all thy life long, Till thou and he were friends, and thou wert strong. The “ Eye of Alexandria,” rais’d on high. Unto all Christendom a beacon light : Thou from our tossing waves, and stormy sky, Art in thy peaceful haven hid from sight ; But still thy name hath leave to guide us thro’ the night. THE SIDE WINDOWS. 287 AMBROSE. To thee an eye to trace out the third Heaven In holy writ, and see the mercy-throne, — A brother’s love, — a poet’s lyre was given. But yet o’er all thy gifts the Pastor shone, To God’s high altar bound, no more thine own. I see thee stand before the injur’d shrine. While Theodosius to thy stem decree Falls down, and owns the keys and power divine : For kings that fain her nursing- sires would be. To the Eternal Bride must bow the knee k . I see thee thron’d upon the Teacher’s seat, — And ’mid the crowd a silent wand’rer steal : In his sad breast, while sitting at thy feet. The Father doth th’ eternal Son reveal, And Austin from thy hands receives the Spirit’s seal. k Isaiah xlix. 23. 288 THE SIDE WINDOWS. BASIL. Beautiful flowers round Wisdom’s secret well, Deep holy thoughts of penitential lore, And dressed with images from Nature’s store, Handmaid of Piety ! Like thine own cell. By Pontic mountain wilds and shaggy fell, Great Basil ! there, within thy lonely door, Watching, and Fast, and Prayer, and Penance dwell, And sternly-nursed Affections heavenward soar. Without are setting suns and summer skies. Ravine, rock, wood, and fountain melodies ; And Earth and Heaven, holding communion sweet, Teem with wild beauty. Such thy calm retreat. Blest Saint ! and of thyself an emblem meet. All fair without, within all stern and wise. . THE SIDE WINDOWS, 289 GREGORY NAZIANZEN. Meek Nazianzen, whom a mother’s love Vow’d from the womb, a Christian Nazarite! A friend’s, a brother’s care fill’d thy calm sprite. And filial grace serene : the hallowing Dove Then open’d thy full heart to God above. Seeking in solitudes the gentler light Of woods and wilds, peace-loving Eremite! Good Basil! thy companion gently prove. Shrinking from pastoral cares: and may Heaven’s King His service not reject, nor choice refuse! Each for his sphere He mouldeth; each doth earn His place from Him ; His Dove hath many hues, Some lead His flock, while some His praises sing ; Some in His inner Temple incense burn. 290 THE SIDE WINDOWS. HILARY. Star of the West! when all the skies grew dark. And Arian clouds conceal’d Heaven’s genial eye, Christ sent thee forth to guide His labouring ark. From His own peaceful palace ever nigh; Still where thy Church her annual pathway steers. High in the Heavens thy radiant sign appears f . Angel of Poictiers, Aquitanian Saint ! Exile to thee was drawing nearer home ; For where Christ is was home to thee; — the plaint Of thy bereaved Church doth thence become Her gladness, when she welcomes thee return’d, And hails the light which in thine exile burn’ds. f The first term in the Year is still known hy his name. s He wrote in exile his Treatise “ de Trinitate.” THE SIDE WINDOWS. CYRIL OF JERUSALEM. From the Archangel on Heaven’s highest stair. And Seraphim and Cherubim around, Unto the lowest child of sin and care, — To each and all, as meet recipients found. By Nature’s works, or word, or Spirit’s seal, ’Tis Christ alone the Father doth reveal 11 . Cyril, on Salem’s apostolic throne. Or where the humbler Catechist doth stand, ’Tis Christ in thee that takes each little one Into His arms, and leads him by the hand Into the inner temple, fill’d with light. And bathes in fountains of the Infinite. f The thought is from S. Cyril’s Catechesis, vi. p. 48 . 292 THE SIDE WINDOWS. EPIPHANIUS. Alas! that strifes should come, e’en at the tomb, ’Twixt thee and Chrysostom, Good Epiphanius! by the zeal of truth Kindling to second youth. Though Faith’s sure anchor 1 doth thy vessel save From error’s wind and wave. Yet ’neath the keel is heard the ocean’s roar, At anchor, not on shore. But so the Eremite’s stern solitude Thy spirit hath imbued. That heavenly Contemplation is thy cell. And Prayer thy citadel ; And so hath nursed to alms and charities. That favour’d Salamis Might deem to thee the gentle soul to pass Of her own Barnabas k . * Alluding to his work, “ Ancoratus, seu de Fide.” k Acts iv. 36, 37. THE SIDE WINDOWS. 293 GREGORY NYSSEN. [ Brother of Basil, Nazianzen’s friend. In love that hath no end, L Brac’d by reproof and knit by charity, In holy wisdom free ! | Nyssa doth, from her breast by exile torn, Her Nicene champion mourn : But Judah’s haunts his reverent zeal hath trod, And trac’d the steps of God. ; Yet not on Calvary’s angel-haunted ground His spirit rest hath found. But that, where’er God is, from earthly woes The pilgrim finds repose. He gathers up Truth’s fragments that remain In Basil’s golden strain ; And goes to seek him in his unseen rest, Asleep on Jesus’ breast. 294 THE SIDE WINDOWS. CHRYSOSTOM. Preacher and Saint, whose name is Eloquence, Well call’d they “ Golden” thine impassion’d tongue. On which Truth sat, and glowing manly sense, And words that stand the fire, — in wisdom strong. And strong in charity. Th’ imperial town Throng’d round thee, and drunk in thy stern reproof. Touch’d by thy saintly spirit ; vice hung down Her flower- wreath’d head, court-favour stood aloof. Nor less thy zeal, in Nazianzen’s chair. That the King’s daughter with her priestly choir Might shine within. While thus thy deeds declare Christ’s presence, wonder not if fiends conspire Against thee, forc’d near the rude Caspian main To drink thy Master’s cup, in exile, want, and pain. THE SIDE WINDOWS. 295 AUGUSTINE. As when the sun hath climb’d a cloudy mass. And looks at noon on some cathedral dim. Each limb, each fold, in the translucent glass. Breaks into hues of radiant Seraphim ; So, sainted Bishop ! in the letter’d store Which still enfolds thy spirit fled from sight, Comment, Prayer, Homily, or learned lore, Christ bathes each part with His transforming light Late ris’n in thee. Thence all is eloquent With flowing sweetness ; o’er each rising pause Thou build’ st in untir’d strength : through all is sent The Word pleading for His most righteous laws. For thy sick soul, by baptism’s seal reliev’d, Deep in her brackish founts the healing Cross receiv’d l . Exod. xv. 25. 296 THE SIDE WINDOWS. CYRIL OF ALEXANDRIA. The sword which Christ on earth hath sent. With olive branches twine : To suffer it with meek content, v But not to wield be thine ; Tho’ round thy throne in tumult strong Thine Alexandrians loudly throng ; Yet He into thy wounds shall pour His oil and wine. Be thine the keener edge to wield Of the unfailing Word ; And shelter with the Spirit’s shield The doctrine of the Lord ! Where Ephesus m hath guarded well The mother of Emmanuel, And from Nestorian leav’n the Church again restor'd. m The first Council of Ephesus declared, that the Virgin Mary was rightly called the mother of God, which Nestorius had denied. THE SIDE WINDOWS. 297 JEROME. The peaceful star of Bethlehem Came o’er thy solitude. The radiance of that heavenly gem Lit up thy sterner mood ; Yea, like a star in murky wells, Cheering the bed where darkness dwells, The images of earth its happier light imbued The thought of the Eternal Child Upon thy cloistral cell Must sure have cast an influence mild, And, like a holy spell. Have peopled that fair Eastern night With dreams meet for an Eremite, Beside that cradle poor bidding the world farewell. ®f)e ^Eastern Mtnhoto. THE CRUCIFIXION. “ Seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, ... let us run with patience the race that is set before us, “ Looking unto Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our Faith.” Heb. xii. 1, 2. Ip there be aught of health in these Thy Saints, Reliev’d from mortal taints, ’Tis but that they their feeble thoughts have rais’d, And upon Thee have gaz’d ; And follow’d Thee from Bethlehem’s lowly room, To Calvary’s solemn gloom. Then let us hang our eyes and hearts on Thee, And dwell upon Thy dying agony On the accursed tree ! There let us flee, as to a holy tower Against the world ; and learn the silent power Of that sad awful hour ! THE EASTERN WINDOW. 299 Thy suffering opes to us the heavenly gate. And nought to Thee can raise our fallen state, But our own selves to hate : For suffering only and self-sacrifice Can fix the heart where Faith her God descries — Within the op’ning skies. From Bethlehem’s stable, with the beasts around, To Calvary, ’tween two thieves on cursed ground. Thou didst with griefs abound. And, like a cloke, wrap round Thee all our shame. While rough rude words of mockery mar Thy name. And toil and pain Thy frame. Tamar and Rahab stain Thy lineage ; Foul Egypt cradles Thy first tender age, Judah pursues with rage. Nazareth, of evil name, Thy childhood rears. And then drives from her ; next Thy sojourn bears, But nurseth more Thy tears, Capernaum, worse than Sodom. No kind roof Shelters Thee ; Thine own household stand aloof. Or taunt with cold reproof. Thy Kingly court a Galilean few. And scorn’d by Galilean and by Jew, An outcast heathen crew. Thy Kingly Coming to Thy Salem proud, Was sitting at a leper’s ’mid the crowd, Anointed for Thy shroud. 300 THE EASTERN WINDOW. Thine entrance, for the King of sorrows meet, Was shedding tears o’er Thine imperial seat Rejoicing at Thy feet. Nor only Thine High-Priest hath witness borne. But the whole Council, met on that dread morn,— And Herod in his scorn, — And the whole people, — yea, for these sole ends The Pharisee and Sadducee are friends. A chosen one that tends Thy watchings and Thy walks is found alone The fit Arch-traitor ; Thine own Twelve disown ; E’en Peter hath not known. They for a murderer cry aloud, nor cease, Lest a relenting heathen should release. And spare the Prince of Peace. E’en now Thine innocent sides with scourging bleed. That Pity from their bleeding mouths might plead ; But they hear not, nor heed. The very scorn of men, a trampled worm. The winds Thou temperest to each tender form, — Thyself dost bear the storm ! Now rais’d on high, a kingly throne is given ; Thine outstretch’d hands with fangs of iron riven : O sight for earth and Heaven ! ’Mid dead men’s bones and many an uncouth thing. And such a crown and such apparelling, Full meet for such a King ! THE EASTERN WINDOW. SOI And we would be Thy subjects, o’er and o’er The world for evermore Acts the same part against Thee, still the same Tho’ with a different name — Caiaphas, Herod, Judas : — John alone Beneath Thy Cross is known. “ E fjearU a great botce out of l^cabcn, saving, 90ef)olti, t|)e tabernacle of (&oti ts fioftf) men, antt 1|e toil! tftoell tottf) tfjcm . . Rev. xxi. 3. departure. Such is the vision our forefathers plannd, Pillaring strength in stones, and making these Melodious, joining Nature's choral band ; The brooks were vocal, calling on the trees ; The trees made answer with the fitful breeze. And call'd on birds, and their responsive lays Call'd upon man : he moulding mighty seas Of music carried on his Maker's praise, For Angels to bear on through Heaven's eternal days. 304 THE DEPARTURE. But now, our honour'd Minster, living Rock Of pinnacles and cornice sculptur'd high, Loud is the strife of tongues a , which seems to mock Thy venerable shadow standing by, And stop in thee thy music of the sky ! What though forlorn and old, thou hast a tongue, Each shrine and tomb within thee seems to cry ; — What though thy babes b be silenced and thy song. Thy stones shall plead aloud, and live to speak the wrong. Beauty of holiness, still let me hold Thy mantle skirts, and talk with thee awhile. And read thy brow, which fairer seems when old ; Time's fingers rude, which other things defile, Make thee more lovely ; and we would beguile Our exile gazing on thee; come from Heaven Thou dost to Heaven return ; and thy last smile Is loveliest, in thy grief to parting given, As in the distant isle the lingering ray of Even. a Debates in Parliament on the Cathedral Act, A.D. 1 8 40. b St. Luke xix. 40. THE DEPARTURE. 305 Beautiful Vision, let me hold thee still, And gaze on thee, — smiling thou seem 1 st to fly. And flying still to smile. If ’tis Heaven's will Thou shouldst depart ’ mong things that are gone hy, In thy hands hear me with thee to the sky. Angelic Vision ! I no more would mourn The goodliest things that pass from mortal eye, But hold thee in thy flight, and with thee borne Mount to the heavenly gate, the threshold of the morn. x . ' ■ NOTES. ®f)e Megtetn dpvont. It will be observed, that Faith forms the entrance to that aisle which is termed the Creed ; Obedience, to Holy Scrip- ture ; and Repentance, to the Lord’s Prayer. On passing from the Western Front, on one side are the Cloisters, an inclosed square with openings or windows on each side, looking into the court. Texts (which are here attached to the Sonnets) are sometimes written up in these Cloisters, as, I believe, is the case on the south side of the Cloisters at Canterbury. They are intended as an ambula- tory, or place of meditation. ®f)e (S^apter This is generally of an octagonal shape, whose eight equal sides are here represented in the eight subjects under the head of Episcopacy. It is often supported by a single pillar, springing up in the centre, which might be taken as an emblem of the one Bishop of the Diocese ; and if it be 308 NOTES. allowable to carry on this allusion, the surrounding seats might be considered as indicative of the presence of the Presbytery; as it is here that they meet to elect their Bishop. There are instances of two Porches, though one only on the south side is more usual. The exact uniformity and correspondence with which the two sides of the Nave have been constructed, including the Oratories, Sepulchral Recesses, &c. (which it may be observed most closely answer to each other even to the structure of the verse,) may appear to be beyond the precision required from the example of any of our Cathedrals. But it has been thought, that the regularity at which Architecture aims might be more conducive to bring before the mind the end proposed by these associations. And there are higher reasons than these ; viz. from the model of the Temple of Jerusalem, and that shadowed forth by the Prophet. Of the former we read, “ And he put five bases on the right side of the house, and five on the left side of the house;” (1 Kings vii. 39.) and “the two leaves of the one door were folding, and the two leaves of the other door were folding (Ibid. vi. 34.) and of the latter, “ the little chambers thereof were three on this side and three on that side;” (Ezelc. xl. 21.) “and palm trees were upon the posts thereof on this side, and on that side;” (v. 34.) “and at the side without, as one goeth up to the entry of the north gate, were two tables ; and at the other side, which was at the porch of the gate, were two tables ; four tables were on this side, and four tables on that side.” (v. 40, 41.) NOTES. 309 0ratortcg* These maybe supposed to answer to the “ little chambers ” in the Temple, as above alluded to, “ built against the wall of the house round about.” (1 Kings vi. 5.) Their use in Christian churches, as little cells for meditation, reading, and prayer, has existed from an early period. See Bing- ham’s Antiq. b. viii. c. 5. sect. 8. It is well known that these are intended to represent the transverse part of the Cross. And the Texts here selected have been supposed to contain a very striking prophetical reference to the extension of the hands in the Crucifixion. And indeed the figure of a Temple, as applied to our Lord’s Body, derives a kind of sanctity from His own use of the same symbol. The Transept, when considered in this light, may shew some degree of suitableness in the subjects chosen to occupy this place, one of which represents our Lord “ in Prophecy ,” the other “ in History .” In each case it may be said of Him, that He is “ all the day long stretching forth His hands.” j©femn. The Disciplina Arcani, which is made to stand for the Skreen, is the term used to designate the practice of the early Church, in withdrawing from public view the Sacra- ments and higher mysteries of our Religion. These were carefully kept from the knowledge of the unconverted, till they were duly prepared for the reception of them. This 310 NOTES. primitive custom was probably rather derived than invented. But the reasons given for its observance were partly founded on a reverence for the sacred mysteries themselves ; partly as considering it conducive to the advantage of those who were thus excluded. See Bingham’s Antiq. b. x. c. 5. and Newman’s Arians, c. 1. sect. 3. (£J)otr. The Sacramental, or Eucharistic, Hymn, commonly called the Angelical Hymn, or the Great Doxology, has been from an early period used in the Communion Service. See Bingham, xiv. 21. c. 11. sect. 2. The liberty which has here been taken of introducing Angels, has been partly from the received notion of their being present in Churches. In a Church, says Origen, “ there are two assemblies, one of Angels, the other of men.” “The gravestofthe ancient Fathers,” says Hooker, “affirm, that the House of Prayer is a Court beautified with the presence of celestial powers : that there we stand, we pray, we sound forth hymns unto God, having His Angels intermingled as our associates.” (Eccl. Pol. b. v. 25.) And partly from this being the Hymn which Angels brought down from Heaven. But chiefly because in these two Hymns, which are used in the Eucharist, the “ Gloria in excelsis” and the “Trisagion,” the Church was wont to call upon the heavenly inhabitants to join in giving thanks to God ; of which see an interesting account in Bing- ham, vol. v. b. xv. 10. where, among the passages quoted from the Fathers, are the following. “ Heretofore,” says St. Chrysostom, “ this hymn was only sung in Heaven, but NOTES. 311 after that the Lord vouchsafed to come down upon earth, He brought this melody to us also. Therefore the Bishop, when he stands at this holy table to present our rational Service, and offer the unbloody Sacrifice, does not simply call upon us to join in this glorification, but first naming the Cherubims, and making mention of the Seraphims, he then exhorts us all to send up these tremendous words, and withdrawing our minds from the earth by intimating with what company we make a Choir, he cries out to every man, and says as it were in these words ; ‘ Thou singest with the Seraphims, stand together with the Seraphims, stretch forth thy wings with them, with them fly round the royal throne.’ ” In another place says the same ancient writer, “ The Seraphims above sing the holy Trisagion Hymn : the holy congregation of men on earth send up the same : the general assembly of celestial and earthly creatures join together : there is one thanksgiving — g la ei^a^a-Tia, — one exultation, one choir of men and Angels in one station rejoicing together.” We have also intimations of the same practice in our own Service, “ Therefore with Angels and Archangels, and with all the company of Heaven, we laud and magnify Thy glorious Name ; evermore praising Thee, and saying, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of hosts, heaven and earth are full of Thy glory : Glory be to Thee, O Lord most High. Amen.” oxford : PRINTED BY I. SHRIMPTON. •v . r V. GETTY RESEARCH INSTITUTE 3 3125 01499 6942