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Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc.. peuvent Atre filmte A des taux de reduction diff^rents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul clichA, 11 est film6 A partir de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 \ I . i. ,m -. MORE HALF-HOURS; ! ■ / OR, A 1 1 A SEOOND AND ENLABOED EDITION OF **<^f»mfni^ mA '^ti['&t§f ft BY J. A. RICHEY. HALIFAX : PRINTBD FOR THK AUTHOE BY TUB NOVA SOOTIA PrINXINO CO. 1877. i I fPSfSSSIIfJS :- Have taken, and kneel ; and l^e Priest, Pausing a moment first, has stepped Up to the Altar, and has placed The sacred Chalice of the Feast Thereon — ^the Chalice he has kept So reverently veiled and graced With gold embroidery.. THE PRIESarS PREPARATION. He then Descendeth, that, with psalm and prayer,, Meetly his heart he may prepare, To recollection. And again Ascending to the Altar, north Of centre, and still pouring forth His soul in prayer to Him who reads The secrets of men's hearts, and heeds; THE DIVINE SERVICE. 13 Their purposes, he saith aloud The Pater Noster and the Prayer For Purity. Nor merely bowed And kneeling, do the people share Such preparation : since they then First breathe an audible Amen, THE KYRIES. The Kyries follow. Though, of old, Our fathers, did not here unfold, Unopportune, the dreadful chart Of violated law, and smart The kneeling worshippers with fear Of malediction. God thus near, They sang the Kyries : we the Law Intrude between each Kyrie ! Awe Obtrudes its form midst blaze of love ! — Since Faith 'gainst Innovation strove, And lost and won, but gained — the world. A zypher came against the Rock Which felt not that, nor any shock : But us the tempest might have hurled — The wanton hurricane — to sea, And sunk us in its short-lived glee. Not so, His Holy Name be pi-aised ! Did God ordain, but men upraised Who faithfully conserved the cause Of truth and faith and righteous laws, And wrung, from chaos of the hour, A cosmos not devoid of power. And even when we kneel to sing These Kyiies to the Triune King, ii \\ ;l '\\ l\'<\ u THE DIVINE SERVICE. »' And think of naught but Love Who died, And all our lack of love supplied, If, startled, we are forced to hear The Law come thundering on our ear, 'Tis well if conscience whispers clear, " The fortified have naught to fear," And clean Confession, gone before, Our minds and hearts to peace restore : But if unshriven we have come. That hope is shorn, our lips are dumb ; Nor must we fasten our own blame On Mount that bums with livid flame, Nor yet on Mother not too blind ; Perhaps more indulgence were less kind. The priest hath turned him to the west, And, with the Law, hath done his best— With each command hath given space For Kyrie chanted back for grace Of mercy, and for guidance right, That Love may triumph over Might! hi I COLLECTS FOR CHURCH AND QUEEN. With priest and people liege and true. The collects for the Queen — will do. The Second if the priest preferred, He hath not in his judgment erred. If either all it asks for brings, We'll praise for that tlie King of kings. THE DIVINE SERVICE. 15 COLLECT FOR DAY.— EPISTLE— GOSPEL. Devoutly joyous, next, they say The hopeful Collect for the Day, And the Epistle. But the Priest, Addressing God, hath faced the East, As with the people, leading on. In prayer and praise before the Throne ; And thus, join they with heart or tongue, Each Psalm, or Creed, will still be sung. But to them now he turns to read What they must hear and, hearing, heed : And, when th' Epistle hath been read, " Th' Epistle endeth here," is said — Because it represents the Law Which had an end. 'Tis not a flaw, An oversight, as some suppose. That no such other words as those Come after Holy Gospel — sure / Throughout all ages to endure ; The best response that you can give To that, is Credo — " I believe." Yet here was incense and a chant — A voluntary — both before And after, lest the Gospel want. While other portions still have moro Than recognition meet ; for so Doth ritual express the glow Of true devotion, while it aids. The dull awakens, cold upbraids. I ■' S- i l ■?v 1 1 16 THE DIVINE SERVICE. THE CREED. The Middle of the Altar, now, The Priest hath taken, to avow Our faith in " what we have received," In all the Church, unrent^ believed, ^ Ere yet, for honest parties two. One Council sage had ceased to do. This Faith each Branch retaineth still, Yet adds, alas ! whate'er it will ; Scorns in the past alone to live. And license takes but none will give. Where angels whisper, or are dumb. Forbid untamed thoughts to come, Truth on their wings declines to roam. And in thy conscience seeks its home, Itself imparts, if God revealed, Itself denies, if He concealed. . , I hold that naught exists for naught. Whence deep devotion then ? and thought Which claims eternity ? And whence The Church ? her history ? The sense Is this, if we will not be blind. That God hath spoken to mankind. Religion is. 'Tis not denied A want there was which it supplied. But how ? For if with falsehood, ill, 'Twere best the want existed still. Then who to man the truth denied ? Transmitted falsehood who supplied ? But Credo doth the priest intone, And singe th on, but not alone ; For Credo 1 oh! what mortal tongue. The grandeur of this Creed well sung THE DIVINE SERVICE. 17 By choristers, with organ peal That makes e'en flesh like spirit feel, Can tell to him, of ear unblest, Who ne'er the privilege possessed To hear it thus. And who could stand Amongst that Christian soldier band, With Credo ringing in his ear, And entertain a doubt or fear. As if mortality might be A boundless, deep, unfathomed sea. Ingulfing, in its midnight breast. Of all God's works the noblest, best ? With Priest and people so agreed. Devotion flags not through the Creed. By gesture and by tone avowed, By head at name of Jesus bowed, By genuflections meekly made When wondrous " Was made Man " is said, And due obeisance not denied At " worshipped and glorified," And Sacred Sign on breast displayed At " Resurrection of the dead," Faith signals that her Creed is sung From willing heart by willing tongue. ANNOUNCEMENTS, &o. Now poise, my Muse, on tested wing, Well soar again, and, soaring, sing ; But thou wouldst seek some pillar's shade. While bare announcements must be made ; And e'en Devotion doth suspend Its constant flame, lest aught oflend ; 'J t i 18 THE DIVINE SERVICE. Else pray no censure may disturb, Nor excommunication curb, Our Easter happiness. The Priest Announceth that this queenly Feast, Resentful if the guests be few, Hath days of obligation two ^ Remaining yet. And p'rhaps for those Who holy wedlock soon propose, He publishes the banns — content That they their bliss deferred through Lent, And wishing joy may thrice repay Their honorable, long delay. As absence true affection lans. This last aecreto save the banns. SERMON. Now invocation duly said. And text announced, he preacheth well Who relegateth to his head The argument alone : the swell Of feeling, and the fiery dart Of eloquence, come from the heart. He wearies not, nor speaks in vain. Whose words are forcible and plain And not too many. Folks will say, " The sermon was too short to-day." And yet, in fact, 'twas only good For th' appetite, like wholesome food. So when " And now unto the Father," Proclaims the peroration done, Each rising listener would rather The argument was but begun. I THE DIVINE SERVICE. 10 OFFERTORY. Returned before the Altar Throne, The Priest suggests an offering : And standing there, he doth intone A " Sentence," which the people sing. Meanwhile the coffers of the King Are passed from hand to hand, and ring With fitting tribute, 'tis instead Of juicy Wine and wheaten Bread — Oblation pure — and to express The people's greater willingness : For what the Sacrifice demands. Is not enough for many hands To offer. More each heart aspires To give, than present need requires. Besides, the offered Sacrifice, Supported Ministry implies, And, that It reach to every door. Some kind provision for the poor. The gold, the silver, and the '* mite " — The little all that doth delight A Father's heart, and which restore He will, but, with it, vastly more — Unto the Celebrant are brought. Who " humbly," by the rubric taught, Presents it. So is Church possessed Of what hath been accepted, blessed. Tis quick removed, and maketh way For The Oblatic .. of the day. n ^1 90 THE DIVINE SERVICE. OBLATION, OF BREAD AND WINK. And thus is this Oblation made : i Before this Service was begun, | A canister of Breads were laid, And cruets, one of Wine, and one Of Water, on the Credence. These . It was intended, God so please. To make His Body and His Blood Who is our Spiritual Food And Sustenance : but not that man Produce such change unaided can, Unauthorized, or either one ; But that when he hath meekly done, Whom Christ commissioned this to do, What Christ, for an example true, Himself did, then the Bread and Wine Be changed by Power All Divine. But first these Elements, designed To Use so holy, we do bind By solemn Presentation all To God alone, beyond recall : And therefore are they now conveyed From Credence to the Altar Throne ; The Breads upon the Paten laid; The Wine — and this not quite alone, But with a little Water — ^poured Into the Chalice; and secured, Both Breads and Sacred Chalice, all, ,• From least defilement, by the Pall, This Sacred Cup and Holy Bread— Oblated — are deposited Upon the Corporal outspread Upon the Altar's midst, and then Are incensed. After this, and when THS DIVINE SERVICE.', 21 The Priest hath rinsed his fingers free From all supposed impurity, In innocence hath washed his hands, He quick returns, and upright stands Before the Altar, to renew The act of Sacrifice, and, there, He doth again oblate, in view. With sanction mete of public Prayer. i ^ i COMMEMOEATION OF LIVING AND DEAD. And here is Intercession done For all the Church, that ev'ry one Who doth the Name of Christ confess May Faith more value, and express In oneness ; and for Royalty, That it may aye a blessing be, ' And that it plainly may be seen To be so in our sovereign Queen ; For her whole Council, and that they Who rule may rule without dismay, And still, throughout this vast domain, Religion, virtue, firm, maintain : For our Apostles, Priests, that pure They may in doctrine, life, endure, And ne'er the Sacraments defer. But " rightly " " duly " minister : For all the people of our God, If prosperous, or 'neath the rod. That, sanctified or comforted. They still may be Divinely led : For those in sickness specially, That timely they may succored be : \ )^ ii Hi THE DIVINE SERVICE. For those who now in Jesus sleep, For whom God's Holy Name we bless, That He Who kept them, us may keep, And bring, with them, to happiness. And if this prayer with frequent pause, The Priest hath offered, 'tis because Ke hath meanwhile, in secret, pled For many living and some dead. DILEMMA. AvAUNT who here could captious gaze Through atmosphere of piety : Avaunt who here could mope and maze : ! let Devotion breathe and be. Yet none are soulless. Wherefore go ? If thou thyself didst rightly know, What rule could drive, what eloquence Of unbelief persuade thee hence ? — 'Tis better stay. Perchance the sneer Though bitter, may forerun a tear — The bitter sweet — of penitence. EXHORTATION AND INVITATORY. The Priest turns to us to express The zeal of Church, her gentleness : Her wifely zeal, that nought abhorred Approach the Table of her Lord ; Her mother-gentleness of heart That cannot see the child depart : THE DIVINE SERVICE. ^3 " Ye that do ti aly , earnestly, Repent you of your sins, and be In bonds of love and charity, Intend God's holy Law to heed, And life thereto conformed to lead ; Draw near with faith, and be ye fed, Refreshed and inly comforted ; And, on your bended knees, deplore The wound though healed that still is sore." ■ \ CONFESSION. Such Invitation plainly said, He tumeth East, and bows his head, While one of those who minister About the Altar, kneeling here, " In name of " all who shall partake. Doth " General Confession " make. I' ABSOLUTION. Reiterated plaint of sin, Reiterated loosing claims : Confession did not here begin, — Wlio then this ritual pardon blames ? With words of peace and Sacred Sign, The Priest imparts the grace Divine ; And he whose sin is twice confessed. Is twice with Absolution blessed : The private was conferred on me. This public on our company : • » THE DIVINE SERVICE. 1 hat off the conscience raised its load, A benediction this bestowed : The former, true, had greater force — This latter, surely, freeer course. THE COMFORTABLE WORDS. Sweet Words of comfort, follow now, Which Christ, saint Paul, saint John avow SURSUM CORDA. The Priest doth then his hands upraise. And bids us " Lift " our hearts in praise ; This quick response our lips afford, " We lift them, up unto the Lord." He joins his hands in meek acknow Of mercies which incessant flow : " Let as " with " thanks " our God requite, And we respond " Tis meet and right," " 'Tis very meet," he saith, and brings Enthusaism as he sings Of " right, and bounden duty, ours," Everywhere, with ransomed powers. And always, to the Lord our King, An Offering, for Thanks, to bring. PROPER preface, DAILY, &o. And mother Church hath here supplied A Preface rcteet for Eastertide, Telling of Paschal Lamb once slain, But gloriously raised again, THE DIVINE SERVICE. m Who, by His Death, did death destroy, And rose to bring us Easter joy, " Therefore with Angels," then is^sung, Till " Sanctus " bursts from every tongue, And people join with Priest to laud The glorious Name of Triune God : And if devotion be so strong That Benedictus doth prolong The Sanctus, 'tis no grevious wrong — Our Mother's own forgotten song — And music breathing, ere it die, A strain of sweet expectancy. PRAYER OF HUMBLE ACCESS. The Priest before the Altar kneeling. Humble his prayer, humbler his feeling, Placeth his hands to Altar Throne, And pleadeth, in an undertone. That it is not presumption brings Him thus before the King of kings. Without a righteousness to plead. Or aught beside his people's need, And his who kneeleth, trembling, there. To pray acceptance of their prayer ; But that His Majesty is known For mercif^s which will ne'er disown A penitent. And almost dumb. Because unworthy of a crumb Beneath the Table of their Lord, And yet presuming at His Board, The kneeling suppliant doth grave 1 . A 'i I 26 THE DIVINE SERVICE. His people's pardon and his own, That God, Who once so freely gave His First Begotten Only Son, To be a Sacrifice for sin. Would let these penitents come in And feast upon the Sacrifice, That so His Body might entice E'en theirs to purity, His Blood Flow through them as a cleansing flood : That they might dwell in Him alway, And He in them for aye and aye. THE CANON. Still glad would the Celebrant kneel. E'en waive the priest the child to feel, If, drawing nigh, another Priest Might come and consecrate His Feast — Might come, as erst He came of yore — Ubiquitous, through closed door And break the Bread, and pour the Wine, And manifest the Grace Divine Of His Eternal Priesthood — clear — E'en now — to whom His Words were dear. — For would not love be more than fear ? But since by faith we must adore, And since the High Priest comes no more, But e'en on man an oflice waits He hesitates who contemplates ; So, be his feelings what they may. This man must consecrate to-day : The Celebration he^ began, Himself must finish, if he can. I \ THE DIVINE SERVICE. 27 Ke therefore riseth to effect, By Words of Christ, with due respect To holy precedent in act, Stupendous — not uncertain — Fact Of Consecration. Oh ! ordained He was for this, and is restrained By no exception, that his word Of prayer shall be in Heaven heard, When he, invoking Holy Ghost To consecrate a valid Host, With Bread and Wine, the matter true, Doth Tirhat his Lord, the Christ did do. — And first he doth Commemorate The Passion — next, doth Invocate The Spirit — last, doth Consecrate The Elements of Bread and Wine Into the Flesh and Blood Divine. Still, though he did but break the Bread, And bless it and the Wine, and said The Words of Institution — meant — 'Twould be a valid Sacrament. And though the Altar was his breast, Twould be the same. 'Tis only best That we should cluster round this rite Glory and beauty, and invite The Voice of Melody to bring Hither its choicest offering. What if in reverential care, Through all this Consecration Prayer, The servant is minute, precise, And swerveth not, for new device, Be it of thousands ur ol cne. From what the Church hath always done I: " • ■ llM y ^8 THE DIVINE SERVICE. — The eye uplifted, form inclined, May tell — the Churchman true — the mind Of doubt relieved — the fervent will This Great Oblation to fulfill, To God, as Mother Church decrees. And conscience more than men to please. — The lowered, cautious, pleading tone. As questioning if rightly done, The palms outspread o'er " Bread and Wine," At "Body"— "Blood" the Sacred Sign, These are the marks, of old decreed, Of him who Invocates indeed. — And on the Table bowing down. To imitate an act His Own, Whose Sacred Elbows rested there ; Signing the Bread with pious care, Kneeling to own It consecrate. Careful to deftly elevate ; Signing the Cup with pious pare, Kneeling to own It consecrate, Careful to deftly elevate— Concludes the Consecration Prayer. Not all our English Church demands Of right, but leaves to willing hands, The minimum she wisely claims Of ritual : 'tis but that her rule May never lack obedience full. Not that the maximum she blames. What mother fond did e'er reprove A supererogative love ? In this she shows her partial care. This is her rubricated prayer. ^'. THE DIVINE SERVICE. m )st where stand. Instructs the p Minutely bids him when to " take The paten" up, and when to " break The Bread," and when to " lay his hand On all the Bread.** The Adoration, Incense, and the Elevation, Devotion prompteth to be done Without a rubric. There is one For taking of " the Cup " in hand, And yet another to command The Priest when he his hand shall lay On " Chalice," " Flagon," or what may Contain the " Wine " he did oblate And purposeth tx) consecrate. I THE CELEBRANT'S EECEPTION, &c. The Priest hath genuflected twice Before the Holy Sacrifice, Once ere the Host he lifted up. Once ere he raised the Sacred Cup, And now he kneeleth to confess Deep sense of his unworthiness To execute, 'twixt God and man, Ofiice so holy, in the plan, Complete for fallen Earth's reunion With Heaven in this Blest Communion. — He riseth then, and, standing, feeds Upon the Sacrifice Which bleeds, Painless, for man, for evermore, On Christian Altars, as of yore, Painful, It bled, when Christ did die. On Altar-Tree of Cavalry. hLl » i I ' ) 30 THE DIVINE SERVICE, And thou, whose ill-attentive ear The Agnus Dei, chanted here, Disturbs, as with a boding fear Of Rome : these worshipped survey, This kneeling and adoring crowd, And with unbiassed judgment, say We now, if demonstrations loud, With rude excitement, can compare With loving faith we witness here ? PEOPLE'S ADORATION,. COMMUNION, &o. Hebe Faith, with full conviction blest, Acknowledgeth the prized Bequest Of Him Who died, nor doubting waits, But all its own appropriates ; No lack of evidence deplores, Prostrate, its Present Christ adores, And kiudles more intense desire With l^iving Coals of Sacred Fire From off the Altar ! Oh ! if this Be not of Heaven's superior bliss The glad foretaste — ^where shall we seek It ? Whither shall the lowly meek, Earth's salt and savor, go to prove Heighth, depth, and length, and breadth of Love? And godly reverence is here, Which love retains, ejecting fear : Disorder, sure, would ill accord With man's reception of his Lord — They meekly come who would be blest, With hands ungloved, crossed o'er their breast, THE DIVINE SERVICE. 31 And head, in homage, forward bent, And kneel to take the Sacrament ; The Choir and Clergy first ; and then, As having precedence, the men ; The women last : and each receives In open palm the Bread He gives For life of souls : and in both hands They take, as awful care demands, The Chalice of that Living Flood Which warms the City of our God Unto celestial joy. And there They Adoration make and Prayer, And then they thence retire, to blend. As still before the King Who reigns. Their praise and prayer, unto the end. In joyous Post Communion strains. *fl k 1- FKAGMEN18 FROM AN UNFINISHED POEM. / it :-r! It was the author's intention, had he completed this very fragmentary poem, to have followed out the x)lan here suggested, and to have taken up, as the work went on, not Scripture incidents only, but types also, and Scripture characters. I.— ON SPECIMENS. From all along the ocean's pebbly side, A dozen pebbles gathered at low tide ; Some lillies from the vale, and from the mine Some atoms : From the tresses that entwine The neck of her whom we have loved of old, One lock incased in signet of fine gold. And so the Muse, these, gathered by the sea Of Inspiration, bringeth unto thee As specimens : of the dim days of eld, A record ; mysteries in types beheld ; And saintly lives that still have gilded o'er The simple chronicles of days of yore. They are but specimens. The sacred page Lies open. Thither go, and there assuage, At that thrice hallowed fount, nor deem it crime Of sacrilege, thy thirst for the sublime, The mystic and the beautiful, and bring From thence thine offering, if thou canst sing. ,r 1 ■ 1 H ^ Si. PRAOMENTS. II. -ON THE POETRY OF TRUTH. As soon as say that no illustr'ous beams Of poesy are? shed upon the path The good man treads, and that religion hath Not power to awaken from their dreams, To brightest, and most beauteous and divine Realities, the spirits of the Nine ; Tell me yon sun with no true glory shines. Although its warm, effulgent rays I feel, Full in my face, their glowing light reveal, And see earth beautified, unto the lines Of forest, field and water, which do skirt Yoii far horizon ; and the damp, inert Mists of the morning, quicken'd, beauteous, rise, To veil the brightness of too radiant skies. in. —EDEN. Turn we whither the Muse so oft hath soared, On wings of thought, to Eden's hallowed bower. Thrice sacred spot ! — -here Innocence adored — And purity submitted to the power Of earthly love — and to the creature's ear, The voice of God came audibly and near ! Though one, a blind, old bard, hath sung thee well, And little left for other bards to tell, No bard of truth will pass thee heedless by, While harmony, like that which reigns above, And mystery and purity and love Can animate the soul of minstrelsy. FRAGMENTS. S5 IV.- -THE FLOOD. Or, if we rather seek a tragic scene, Survey the devastation of the Flood — A world of waters and of stagnant blood — And fragmentary wrecks of what had been Once glorious and beautiful. See there, Midst desolation wild and dark despair, The sternest form of Retribution rise, — The Maker wills, and His Own creature dies. And yet that Pity may not perish too. An ark floats o'er the wide expanse of blue. As much doth Mercy triumph in the few Thus rescued from the all-submerging wave, As Vengeance in the vast uncounted more Who, crying, like their infants, " Father save !" Still climb and crowd the residue of shore, Till, gained its highest pinnacle, they fight For footing brief, then float, then sink in night. I, i-»tf i t ni v.- THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. Less gloom, if less sublimity, pervades. Where hosts of liberated captives pass. The hoary-headed and the young and maids And infants, dry-shod, where but lately was The fierce up-heaving of the deep Red Sea : And soon shall be again, when the pursued The peril shall have passed, and Egypt's hordes, By an unholy avarice imbued And mad presumption, trusting to their swords. Shall seek to follow whom the Lord makes free. J.i S6 FRAGMENTS. He, dimly clad in robe of cloud or flame, An angel or his God, or One Whose Name Shall sweeter be than either, when to men Revealed — God only now, the God-Man then — Unknown to Israel, although their Guide, O'er all their wanderings watches, doth divide For them the sea, and, like a bulwark, stands 'Twixt them and death, when Egypt's hostile bands Come rushing onward, still insanely brave. To seek a foe — and find, alas ! a grave. There is no help for Egypt, none in flight. In valor none ; for who will stand and fight The gathering waters when they " come again ?" At first they are as if a heavy rain Drenched the Egyptian forces, but it pours From either side, and thickens, from a shower, , i E'en to a cataract, and rolls and roars. Like two Niagaras, upon their power. And pride and beauty who must perish so, Till, once again, the waters ebb and flow In their accustomed channel, still and deep, Murm'ring, for those whom they have hushed to sleep, A requiem. * tile * kii !; >»> a MISCELLANEOUS. to I P : i MISCELLANEOUS. THE CHURCH UNTIL NOW. The Church of God, in former years, Christ's solitary witness stood, By Her He wiped the mourner's tears, Through Her applied His Cleansing Blood. His Holy Word, 'twas Hers to read, And still the treasure safe to hold ; 'Twas Hers His sheep and lambs to feed, And bring them young into the Fold. His chosen here. His Spouse on Earth, For Him alone She lived and spake, And Christians knew Her sacred worth. And loved Her for their Master's sake. No warring sects Her voice withstood, No trusted friend concealed the sword. The foes of Christ alone were rude. All loved His Bride who loved their Lord. And still She lived, and lived for Him, And pleaded promise niade to Her, Nor grew Her faithful witness dim, When ages joined the years that were. •J ft k i ■ \ i Ifi MISCELLANEOUS. I! Still, still She labored, struggled, bled, And firmly held Her ancient post ; Till now each man his brother led To swell the armies of the lost. Each human whim a sect must form. Each sect its wondrous claim display, — The Church, forgotten in the storm, Seemed like a thing of yesterday. But Christ had suffered, so must She, And still in all His footsteps tread, Her sorrow must Her glory be, She was baptized for the Dead. Not earth-bound are Her hopes and fears, They rest on things beyond — above — She looks to Heaven, through Her tears, And learns, in griefs, that " God is love. » Of every carnal prospect cured, She lays Her griefs the Cross beside, Content to know what Christ endured — Betrayed — forsaken — and denied. OH, THE CHURCH OF OUR SIRES. Oh ! the Church of our sires, is the refuge for me, As She came, the sweet messenger, over the sea ; Like the fragrance that floats on the summer's last breeze. She hath told us of days that were better than these*., I M(^ MISCELLANEOUS. n Though the tones of a stranger as pleasant may be, Yet the Priests of the Church are the pastors for me, May their souls be as white as the surplice they wear, And their hearts as devout as their voices* of prayer! Oh, the books of the Church, they are treasures to me ! And the Prayers with the Bible so sweetly agree, That, though pulpits should err^ as the preachers may do, Still the Altar is sure and is never untrue. So the Creeds of the Cliurch are the doctrine for me. Her Sacraments valid, and frequent and free ; May Her God Whom She worships on earth, as above, Be the God of my faith and the God of my love! •I ,;»' i 'm^. iJi it 4 THE TWO PARTIES. Two bands of workers find employ Within the Vineyard of the Lord ; Of those the cry : " Deface, destroy," Of these : " Be ancient pomp restored." And these, in comely vestments clad. Their sacerdotal caste express, While those, to veil their priesthood glad, Midst worldlings walk in worldly dress. 4^ MISCELLANEOUS. > The pulpit those, the Altar these, Would deck with costly art and care. To flatter man, or GJod appease, And further eloquence, or prayer. While these intone and chant and sing, And prostrate fall, to bless His Name Who is at once their Offering, Their Priest, their Altar, and their Flame : Discordant voices those upraise, Some mutt'ring low, some crying loud, And read their prayers and read their praise. And scarce a sinner's head is bowed. For thoso the pew, the lock and key, And jhurch closed six days out of seven ; For these the seats, though plain, all free, And daily Offering to Heaven. Yet these the few, by those the strong. Reviled, defeated— -but not won — Must yield their vestment, symbol, song. And suffer for the good they've done ? No — by His Love in Whom you live — No — by His Iiove for Whom you do — No — by His Love to Whom you give Your all ; — for He hath died for you : — Be still in works of love employed. Be still with ev'ry virtue graced. Rebuild what Ignorance destroyed. Adorn what Prejudice defaced \ MISCELLANEOUS. 4S MATINS. The morning is misty and mirk, With clouds the sky over it spreads, The busy are off to their work, The idle are still in their beds : But, up in the village, the bell, The church bell, is ringing away, To busy and idle to tell — To church that the Priest goes to pray. The people are forming their plans, How each one may make himself rich, From " hub " of the lady who fans, To wash-woman's " man " in the ditch ; But some from this quarter and that. And some from just over the way. Subduing their voices, in chat — To church are repairing to pray. The village gets noisier now. The teamsters go plodding along, The school-boys, that chase a poor cow. And others that join in a song : But still is the tongue of the bell. And some are beginning the day ( That well it may terminate ) well — The few who to church went to pray. The clouds from the sky have dispersed. The day is as clear as can be. The school-boys their task have rehearsed, Are out for " recess " in full glee : if I r. u MISCELLANt!0U9. But bright as the sun shines on all, (And happy and glad is the day) Full kinder its rays seem to fall — On those who to church went to pray. Ii THE DYING DISCIPLE. " Bid him enter. Tis the Priest. O my soul ! be glad to-day, Hail the welcome Sacred Feast, Sweet Provision for the Way." " Aged Disciple, thou art lying, Lonely, on the couch of deuth. Peace to thee ! mind not replying — Shorter, shorter comes his breath.'* " Vile and lost thy Church first found roe. Found me in the paths of sin, Christ's embraces threw around me. Washed me, fed me, took me in," "Rest thee." Now the Pure Oblation Riseth, fragrant, to the skies. Pleads for him the great salvation, Ere the weary pilgrim dies. " Take and eat." It is the Bread God imparteth to His own. " Drink this." 'Tis the Blood once shed, Blood of His Eternal Son. Neiu London, P. E. I., 1863. MtSCELLAltEOVa, ^ ! , I A PLEA FOR THE FISHERMEN IN CHURCH BUILDING. The Fisherman's toil is a wearisome toil, And often 'tis dangerous too, He planteth the labor, who reapeth the spoil ? Say Halifax merchants, do you ? Then now when he asks for a Church to his God, The Same Whom ye rich folk adore, Ye'U not ]jp against him ; for that would be odd ; Ye'll not be because he is poor. When coming to market with cargo of fish, What comer more welcome than he ? His presence e'en more than an earl's you could wish. To pass you, what crime it would be ! Then now, &c. Election day comes pretty often just now, Too oft for the morals I ween ; For " shoremen " so often a zeal ye %vow Which now ye will cause to be seen — Just now, &c. ■ Oh yes ! for his povei cy maketh you rich, His labor hath given you ease. And still there's a blessing with which He will add to your joy if you please : Yes, now, &c. M li j^e MISCELLANEO US. Then down with your offering cheerfully made, Your offering helpful to man ; The Fisherman's debt as you know must be paid, I fear that your own overran — So now, &c. Parent ! and Brother ! and Sister ! and Child ! This work is a work to your hand, To build up a Church in the terrible wild, The Fisherman's margin of lanH : Oh, now, &c. Oct Uth, 1876. THE AGeRIEVED PARISHIONER. "We are of opinion that it is expedient to restrain in the public services of the United Church of Great Britain and Ireland all variations in respect of vesture from that which has long been the established usage of the said United Church, and we think this may be best secured by providing aggrieved, parishioners with an easy and effectual process for complaint and redress." — See " First Report " of Ritual Commission : but be careful to read with it, " Minutes of Evidence and Appendices.'* He's aggrieved at the Church that it's pointed and plain, At the Cross, that it's where he so wanted the vane ; At the Font, for the reason it's down by the door. At the Altar, and Credence, and Alms for the poor. MISCELLANEOUS. 47 He's aggrieved at the Priest for his cassock so long, At the Choir for their looks, and their books and their song, At the Worshippers bowing, and bending their knees, At the Seats — that they're free for "such people as these." He's aggrieved at the Bishop for " leaning that way M At the Synod and all, whether cleric or lay. At the Eucharist and at the vestments he saw : • Oh ! " provide " him " redress " by a " process " at law! ■I oi U MT HOME. Unbounded by the sea- washed crag, My home, unbounded by the seas, * It is not where my Nation's flag, Defiant, floats upon the breeze ; It is not where my feet first strayed Flowers and grass and trees among. Where all my quondam plajonates played, When we could play, when / was young ; It is not where the hearth still stands, The hearth we clustered round of old, When these were only tiny hands, And Earth was fair and not so cold : 5 1 48 MISCELLANEOUS. Where'er my spirit joys to be, Where'er hearts, greeting, bid me come, Where frendship groweth constantly, Wliere'er my heart is — that is HOME. Sydney, C. B., 186^, i READ THIS, FRIEND. It is rather uncouth — is it not, friend ? — That seldom you kneel in the church. But stand during prayers there, or squat, friend, Then talk o'er the news in the porch. It is kind of you truly, no douV friend, Of hearing the prayers to be d. But really, 'twould seem more aevout, friend, To hold up your hands and respond. For the Bible and Prayer Book, you know, friend, Are better than common good books. But, eertes, 'twere easy to show, friend. More sense of their worth by your looks. The Church is the House of the Lord, friend, Where Christ has His worshippers true. And He, by the angels adored, friend, Is the God so much slighted by you. New London, P. E. /., 1863. MISJELLANEO US. 40 i RHYMING LETTER TO THEOPHILUS. T. S. Richey, Priest, Church of England, and brother of the author, was, at the time this piece was written, Rector of Kentville, N. S., and is now Rector of St. Eleanor's, P. E. I. Fern Hill, Spry Harbor, Nova 8., And August 4th or 5thy I guess. Dear Theos: — That you wrote I got, Was glad to hear, I tell you what. But as for off to Kentville going, The thing would now involve hard rowing, And wind and tide so adverse seem, It 'pears to me most like a dream. To " close the folds a week or two,'* Is just the thirg that would not do : My sheep so sharp for pasture cry, They scarce will drive the lamb-kill by, But, once unshepherded, might stray. Where wilder flocks would lead the way, Of ev'ry poison'd shrub might eat. And fondly think 'twas better meat. So saith the Priest ; the farmer hear ; Nor deem the combination queer : The farm and parish scarce allow The sweat to dry from off my brow. And yet, united, do not give Me, clear of rue, whereon to live. If I abroad my summer spend, Though innocently, with a friend. My hay, unhoused, unmade, unmown. Must lay and rot where it hath grown, 50 MISOELLANEO US. My lowing herd, the winter long, Upbraid me with such selfish wrong, And bairns unmusically sputter A sad lament for milk and butter, While I, bewailing summer then. The " winter of my grief " would ken — I beg decline your invitation. Pray kindly take this explanation ; Nor think, in brotherly vexation, That / have suffered no temptation. But now for you, whose fluent speech Brings easy competence in reach, Whose flock, on dainty pasture fed, By stranger's crook disdains be led, Ajid, all your little absence through, Will only bleat the more for you : You surely might to Kentville say, " Spare me a week or two, I pray ?" Provide umbrella lest it rain, For Halifax take morning train, Next day come down, through rain or shine, With me, at six o'clock, to dine — Do this at once, your conscience ease, And " bring the children" if you please. An invitation separate. And not less urgent, as 'tis late. But thus reserved to figure here. As dignities bring up the rear, In plural oneness, we extend To her whose life with yours doth blend : And you will clearly see 'tis fair That she your summer trip should share. MISCELLANEOUS. 61 And now, until we see each other, I am, dear T'oph., your loving brother, Not Matthew, to distinguish names, But your old crony playmate, — James. P. S. — Some sermons with you bring, Your note-book, likewise, as you sing. ON THE VICISSITUDES OF A CAT AND HER TWO KITTENS. Full oft fictitious tales of woe, In doleful accents, reach the ear, And tears of pity rise and flow For that which only doth appear. Thus are we cheated to be sad For things which never yet have been, And often are we blithe and glad While sufFrers walk our path unseen. No varnished falsehoods here shall live, Nor here doth minstrel seek for fame, What kind attention you may give, A cat and her two kittens claim. Fear not to read : a moral, plain. Shall close the tale you have begun, And, while you read of Beauty's pain, Learn you her fatal vice to shun. 6'2 MISCELLANEOUS. A poor, neglected kit, in youth, She knew the griefs you ne'er can feel, And (for I would not cloak the truth) She early learned to stray and steal. Thus Robert found her, strayed, and thin, As they are apt to be that roam. But she seemed only bones and skin, The day he brought her, shiv'ring, home. In Emma's arms she now was placed, " The beauty !" Emma quick exclaimed, The word the cat thenceforward graced, And " Beauty " was she proudly named. Full soon her ribs began to be All covered o'er with wholesome fat, And e'en the servants owned that she Was " an uncommon " pretty cat. Three years she lived in ease and bliss. Three families she reared with care ; And, if she sometimes did amiss, To pardon Beauty seemed but fair. Two kittens now, both beautiful, Went purring ever by her side, Or did at sofa-tassels pull. Or ate the mice she would provide. Oh ! had she known to be content, And had she shunned the pantry shelf. She might her days have wisely spent, Her kittens joyous as herself. MISCELLANEOUS. 63 1 1 I But foolish she her foolish kits One day into the pantry led, And to the floor in twenty bits, Came down the dish on which they fed. Alas ! that dish, for centuries, So grandma now, at least, averred, Daily assigned its freight of pies. Had been from heir to heir transferred. What angry deed could now suffice Our sense of wrong to freely vent ? Some deem that shades of murdered mice Suggested Beauty's punishment. Far from her home the sad ingrate And her two kittens were removed. And, left to mourn their hapless fate. The folly of presumption proved. MORAL. Now learn from this, ye maidens fair. That there be things which some may prize More than your locks of golden hair. More than the lustre in your eyes. Gaha'i'us, near Sydney, 1861. 1^ '1 SAID SHE TO ME. Said she to me : " If thou wilt deign to find A husband really kind , I'll marry thee." 11 J !| 6^ MISCELLANEOUS. I hurried right, As if 'twere death or life, To Mister Jones' wife — What dimmed her sight ? fie ! for shame ! It was a pearly tear, ^ And I was forced to hear Of Jones' blame. It would not do, 1 went to Mistress Brown. She met me with a frown, For she was true ; But " as for men. Their smiles where'er they roam, Their grumbling still at home," She told me then. And Mistress Smith, And Mistress Morrison, And even Mistress Dunn, With Mistress Frith, Each sep'rate one Declared Jierself illused, And very much abused — 'Twas not in fun : So, even for my life, I did not, could not find A husband always kind — Nor a compliant wife. MtSCELLANEOVS. 66 THE SERVANT GIRL'S DREAM. I THOUGHT the mansion was my own Wherein I am a servant now, The rose from off my cheek was gone, But then I had a lily brow. Oh ! all I wished was at command, The world had nothing to deny, With " ardent loves " on every hand, The Queen of destinies was I. All flattering epithets were given, As " Star " and " Angel sent from Heaven." My mind was educated, too, That night of seeming blessedness, And doubled pleasure, wild and new. By perfect power to express. I asked no more, I needed less, The earth, I thought, was wondrous fair, And yet my heart laid little stress On all that bloomed and flourish'd there. 'Twas strange how happiness sat smiling On faces lit with less beguiling. For me, deep chiselled in my heart, There was a room for sorrow mute, Unswept by love's soft soothing art. And by the minstrel's joyous lute. I woke, I laughed with girlish glee, And blessed my birth's humility. i \ 66 MISCELLANEOUS, For what to me were pomp and pride, With servants waiting all around, And what the flatterers at my side, And what the blush of cultured ground, While honest Peter neither cared Nor saw, nor, seeing, could have shared ? Ah, now I look in Peter's eyes, And read affection's brightest tale. And am a bird of Paradise ! Oh ! what would giddy wealth avail. Were he from his dear Susan parted, And she both proud and broken-hearted ? Portland, Me., 1858, SPRING. 'TwAS in the budding Spring, which had not blushed. Nor on her cheek, the time whereof I write, Assumed, as yet, those gaudy tints which rushed So quickly up unto the pearly white. The Winter had just fled. Its winds were hushed, Or, loit'ring under Heaven's milder light Which had supplanted now its wintry glare, They bore the fragrant breath of flowers there. The earth seemed burdened by its happiness, The growing greenness of its full breast sighed : The plants themselves seemed plaintive to excess. And, unto ling'ring zephyrs, did confide MISCELLANEOUS. 67 Whate'cr such tender murm'ring might express, Perchance the deep complainings of a bride Whose mate had been untimely plucked from thence, In its fair growth, which was for her defence. And living nature, how it joyed and sang, And wantoned in the light and in the shade ! With warbling merriment the whole earth rang. For, in their flight, etherial songsters staid, And came to earth. From thence they upward sprang. Of human footsteps cautiously afraid, And peopled cottage roof and creaking vane. Then flew. The world is part of their domain. The gairish girl, — herself within the bud, So mystic, soft, and delicately pure. Which had not blossomed yet, of womanhood, — At intervals was merry or demure ; For there was much she could not, much she could Unravel of those beauties which allure The gazer's eye who looks on Spring's fair pride Of animals that play and streams that glide. Such season 'twas as I have written here. On such a day as I have tried to tell. With such phenomena as, much I fear, Howe'er my words upon the theme might dwell, I am inadequate to make appear, Upon this paper, nearly half so well As, under Heaven's all-creative Hand, They were displayed on ocean and on land. C "I ■*1 I 58 MISCELLANBOVS. Letitia, only in her sixteenth year, Looked forth on hillside green and verdant vale, And saw each beauteous work of God appear In its unsullied birth — Why should she fail To imbibe the passion of a smile and tear — The passion which hath but an olden tale Of grief and happiness — the passion love — Which they most envy who the most reprove ? Within her maiden, soft and lonely breast, An unawakened nature merely dreamed. With eyelids, half up-lifted in unrest, Which would have opened wholly had they deemed The power theirs to make a mortal blest : But on Letitia's heart no ray had gleamed Of love's bewitching sun ; 'twould almost yawn, With its first strange presentiment of dawn. And yet a stranger's ej e had gazed on her. Had drawn a transient lustre from her own. His heart had felt unable to aver The reason why it seemed quite alone. Without a voice which could a moment stir Its mopishness of life, since she had flown, As 'twere, athwart his vision, leaving dark The blinded gaze just touched by beauty's spark. " Yes, we have, only met that we may part, As now forever, each to each unknown. And to the end that one ill-fated heart May have a fresh event whereof to groan. MISCELLANEOUS. 69 Thou transient image ! oh how fair thou art ! I would have spoken but that thou wast flown, Forever flown, while yet each thought in me Was mute for joy of having gazed on thee." Montreal, May, 1861. THE DESERTED. A SLENDER form goes through the room, Her steps uncertain ; and her soul Seems filled with an immortal gloom. Beyond her mind's control. 'Tis but a year since she was sprightly ; Her feet scarce touched the russet floor, As once she bounded forward lightly And answered to the door. Some say her heart was then cemented Unto another's harder heart, And that, when his its love repented, Her own broke right apart. " A foolish tale of childish love," I hear one half ths world reply ; And all the sages will reprove My story as a lie. But come and walk beneath this sky, Beneath this interested moon. And we will talk of reasons why Her heart gave way so soon. !■ / eo MISCELLANEOUS. When he who bade her love him so Her willing love no more returned, What prospects vanished ! You must know That when she slowly burned His letters, one by one, they still Contained the hopes that perished too : She was the dupe of love, and will Be sad her short life through ! Her prospects went, and then belief In human principle was gone. Perchance, you think that her great grief Should have distrusted one. And only one, and not the few Who are unlike him. Ah ! her best Beloved, by his false conduct, threw Suspicion on the rest Of human spirits. It is done, Her confidence hath been reproved Forevermore ; yet was she one Who could have fondly loved. But words are useless. From her face The rose of glowing red hath gone ; The lily white hath ta'en its place, — Paler than marble stone ! Religion ? Ah ! you have it now : I own her heart should not be broken, And grief should vanish from her brow Whose peace my God hath spoken : MISCELLANEOUS. 01 For oh ! His ev'ry word is kind — When earthly friendships false have flown, In Him a woman's heart may find Love changeless as her own ! Sydney, C. B., 1860. ■Pn if ^« i INDIAN DIRGE. O'er rocky shelf, through sylvan shade, The streamlet holds its crystal way ; And, bending fondly, bushes steep Their lengthen'd locks therein ; and glad The skipping zephyr joins in play, And urges onward to the deep. Through all this wood of foliaged pine, Our sires traced a course more free. As swift as sweeping winds are wild, Except their prey no bound'ry line, They scoured plain and mountain high. When Freedom smiled on Freedom's child. ' ij %: ! TJieAr children nought pervades but gloom. Unroll, O Earth ! the lapse of years, And let the past be past away : Maliciously from yonder tomb See ye how Cultivation sneers ? Our sires' blood enriched that clay. : I e^ MISCELLANEOUS. Above US, Death's tyrannic hand, Has long been brandish'd, full in view, To strike us whence we deem our own , And (aliens though in Fatherland) Lo, e'en our still remaining few Must soon be dwindled into none ! Wellington, 1855. I.— NIGHTS IN THE "WOOD. 'Tis night, and, far from shelt'ring roof, I lay me down on brush-made bed. In groves through which no iron hoof. Nor white man's form, till now, hath sped. On yonder rock my Micmac guide Sits gazing up into the sky : " There warrior chiefs in bliss abide, Inglorious here their children die." Our blazing fire crackles yet. The glitt'ring sparks ascend full high ; For three sworn friends and true are met, — " Shot " and this Micmac guide and I. The moon is shining on the lake. And beasts are prowling through the wood. The partridge hides in yonder brake — And this is forest solitude. ' MISCELLANEOUS. 63 II. By the moon's yellow light, which fell On the bleak barren where he stood And listened to the distant yell Of prowling beasts, the hunter viewed A far extending lake : its mood Was calm ; and so supremely still, That often he his gaze renewed ; And all was peaceful, save a rill Close by that murmured down the hill. That night he slept more sound than ye Who never left your beds of down. Nursed in the lap of Luxury, Stalled in the fumy marts of town, Ye envy not his poor renown Who scorns your tinsel and your show : The hunter on his bed laid down, His bed of spruce and fir, and so Slept sweetly where the wild weeds grow. His sheets were not of linen white, He needed not a minstrel's aid, Nor yet to pour o'er reading light, To chase away some spectral shade ; But on his brushy bed he laid. Secure, by rock and shrub wrapt in ; And thus, all blithe and undismayed. He soundly slept beneath the wing Of Heaven. "Twas his covering. 1855. %M ! fi 64^ MISCELLANEOUS. A CLEAR DAY IN SUMMER, At God's command, the healthful air, By lightnings purged, bestows on flowers The spring-like freshness that they wear ! At God's command the earth is fail* And smiling through her summer hours J The ocean ceaseth to be wrath { And, muffled as the gates o5 Death, In deep profundity of awe, Scarce answers to the passing breath Of wind As when of old it saw Itself upraised, to leave a path Throughout its midst, with placid brow, So looks the ocean unto God and worships now. The voices of the earth and sea. The many voices of the air. In chorus all, for praise and prayer, Ascend in blest monotony. Alas ! thei*e is a silent lute Which giveth not a thankful sound : Alas ! for oiiiy man is mute : And he, for whom the sea is bound Unto the shore the wide world round ; For whom the light of day was given ; For whom the flowers deck the ground — His lute, and only his, is riven, And hath no sv^ng of g^i'atitude to send to Heaven. Halifax, August o, 1858, ifl i i MISCELLANEOUS. 65 VOIC^ 01? I'HE COMET. WhUst the comet of 837 (which, according to De Sejour, continued during 24 houre within a distance of 2,000.000 miles from the earth,) terrified Louis I., of France to that degree, thut he busied himself in building churches and founding monastic cstahlishioeats, in the hope of ap^ieasing the evils threatened by its appearance. The diinese Ttstronomers made observations on the path