CATHOLIC AND APOSTOLIC CHURCH ENGLAND. " The House of God, which is the Church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the Truth." 1 Tim. iii. 15. SECOND EDITION. OXFORD, JOHN HENRY PARKER; J. O. AND F. RIVINOTON, LONDON. MDCCCXXXIX. BAXTER, PRINTEIl, OXFORD. Stack Annex ADVERTISEMENT. THE idea upon which this publication has been composed is, it is hoped, perfectly in accord- ance 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 " Temple," 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 be " likened to the little cells, oratories, and sepul- chral recesses." The present design has been to execute such a plan by a selection of subjects, IV ADVERTISEMENT. more or less appropriate to the parts which they are made to represent, from the Liturgy, and the Doctrine and Discipline of the Church; care being taken to adhere as much as possible to the relative proportions 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 application and extensive unfoldings of the same symbolical 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 (pre- sented to their eyes as is supposed in the pre- cincts 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 reverence, it was ADVERTISEMENT. V the very characteristic of our Lord's teaching to draw moral and religious instruction from visible objects. Some things contained in the present work have been before published in the British Magazine : the two poems signed y have been allowed by their Author to be inserted from the Lyra Apostolica. The leading idea in the subject called " the North Aisle," i. e. on the different meanings which the Lord's Prayer is capable of in the different services, was sug- gested by some Sermons of a friend. The Eve uf the AniiiMciatwn, 1838. " Blessed is he whom Thou choosest, and receivest unto Thee ; he shall dwell in Thy court, and shall be satisfied with the pleasures of Thy House, even of Thy holy Temple." Ps. Ixiv. 4. CONTENTS. The Dedication Page xv PART I. THE EXTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL. The Western Front. Baptismal Promises. The Left-hand Door Repentance 3 The Middle Door Obedience 6 ' The Right-hand Door Faith 9 The Cloisters. Ecclesiastical Sonnets. I. The Liturgy . . 11 II. Forms ... 12 III. The Collect for the Day 13 IV. Prayer ... 14 V. The Complaint . . 15 VI. Sunday ... 16 nil CONTENTS. VII. VIII. IX. X. XL XII. XIII. XIV. XV. The Cloisters. Ecclesiastical - Sonnets. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXL XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. LXXVIII. Village Psalmody . 17 The Ancient Village . 18 The Modern Cathedral . 19 The Daily Service . 20 Foreign Breviaries . 21 The Church in Scotland 22 The Church in Wales . 23 The Church in Wales . 24 The Church in Wales . 25 Political Changes . 26 The sure Covenant . 27 Prayer for the Parliament 28 Prayer for the King . 29 Consolations of Baptism 30 The City of God . . 31 New Ways ... 32 The Crucifix . . 33 The Holy Altar . . 34 The Ancient Church . 35 The Holy Land . . 36 Lost Eden ... 37 The Coming of Christ . 38 The Way to the Chapter House.. .Sacred Retirement . 39 The Chapter House .... Episcopacy . . 44 CONTENTS. IX. PART II. THE NAVE. The North Porch The Church in Hope 53 1. Laud .... 57 rr-v. e i \. i t> i2. Ken .... 58 1 he Sepulchral Recesses. ) i?' fVi 1 T 59 The Churchman's Friends. "V !?.." es 5. Taylor ... 61 _, _. . C 1. Distant Church Music . . 65 The Oratories. \ 2 . The Doxology ... 67 Consolations K 3 . The Athana 8 g [ an Creed . . 69 and Strongholds. ^ . Fast Days .... 72 The North Transept .... The Psalms . . 75 THE NORTH AISLE . . The Lord's Prayer . 91 THE MIDDLE AISLE . . Holy Scripture . . 117 THE SOUTH AISLE . . The Creed . . 142 The South Transept .... The Epistle and Gospel 166 rpv n j. C 4. Festival Days .... 181 1 he Oratories. \ r TVT- <~< j /-. , .. )3. The Nicene Creed . . . 184 ConMons J 2 . The Blessi . . . 1 87 and Strongholds. J 189 (5. Herbert . . .192 !Jt 5! f 1. Hooker . . .197 The South Porch . . The Church in Fear . 198 The Sepulchral Recesses. - The Churchman^ Friends.^ King George III. 2. Wilson . . . 196 CONTENTS. PART III. THE CHOIR. Page The Steps to the Choir . . . The Litany . . 203 The Approach $"* I ! S 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, PART IV. THE PILLARS AWD WINDOWS. Page 241 THE PILLARS. The Pillars of the Nave. Patriarchs and Prophets* Noah . Abraham Joseph Moses Joshua David Elijah Elisha Isaiah Jeremiah Ezekiel Daniel 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 The Pillars of the Choir. Apostles. St. Peter . St. Andrew St. James . St. John St. Philip . St. Bartholomew St. Matthew St. Thomas . St. James . St. Jude . St. Simon . St. Matthias 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 XII CONTENTS. THE WINDOWS. The Western Window . . . The Nativity Page 270 The Side Windows. Ancient Fathers. ^Clement Ignatius Polycarp Justin .... Irenaeus Tertullian . Clement Origen Cyprian Dionysius Hippolytus . Gregory Thaumaturgus Athanasius . Ambrose Basil .... Gregory Nazianzen Hilary Cyril of Jerusalem Epiphanius . Gregory Nyssen . Chrysostom . Augustine . Cyril of Alexandria Jerome 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 The Eastern Window . . . The Crucifixion . 298 Notes 303 LIST OF ENGRAVINGS. General View . . . Lichfield . . Frontispiece The Ground Plan to face the Contentt 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 Round 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, Bat 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. l)t Ofrtm'or of tfre Catfretel THE APPROACH. WHEJH 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 Heav'n are found to be. Open me the gates of righteousness, that I may go into them, and give thanks unto the Lord. I)e Wltttom Left-hand Door. Middle Poor. Rii:ht-hand Door. Repentance. Obedience. Faith. This is the gate of the Lord ; tbp righteous shall enter into it. : , lHI. !,'. l)t Meatern jfront BAPTISMAL PROMISES. Hft=SantJ Boor. Repentance. REPENTANCE 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 stretche9many 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. B2 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. 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. THE WESTERN FRONT. 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. IL 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 Heav'n's embowering roof. THE WESTERN FRONT. / 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 ever 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, VI. 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? heav'n-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. THE WESTERN FRONT. Bigf)t--f)antr 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 Heav'n the stole she wears, When Angels left sad Eden's seat, She stay'd, falFn 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 mountains 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 rapt 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 Heav'n communion sweet ; When clouds Heav'n's moving surface wield, She opes beyond her bright-blue shield ; When warring tumults gather near, She lifts the consecrated spear. Ci)t Clotetcrs. rhmi shall fcp the In Thy tn.hernarle from the a&aat. Psalm xxxi. 2(). Cf)e ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS. I. " The Liturgy. Ask for the 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 heav'n-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 echoesnew,anddeep and deeper strain. * Exodus xv. 27. 14 THE CLOISTERS. IV. Prayer. They shall be satisfied with the pleasures of thy house, even of thy holy temple. Hidden, exhaustless treasury, heav'n-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 Heav'ns 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 Heav'n'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. li) V. 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 be 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. Heav'n'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 with 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 heav'n-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. 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 Heav'n. 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 IX. The modern Cathedral. Ye have said, it is vain to serve God: and what profit is it that we have kept his ordinance ? 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, Arid canonized Regret, which backward bears Her longing aspect, moving thoughtful tears. Such blest abodes, in Heav'n'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 ! c 2 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 Or 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. Rejoice not against me, mine enemy ; when I fall, I shall arise ; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be 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 ; /nd 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 th' 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 Heav'n's constancy, Th' unchanging mountains and unchanging Sea, Which to each other thy deep tones prolong, And both bear on to Heav'n. What though, among Thine innocent nuptial feasts and household glee, Thy harp is silenc'd 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 A vernian steams, to Heav'n's deep roof Daily ascend, and gathering there aloof, Hang in tempestuous clouds. 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 Keen an end of all perfection, but thy commandment is exceeding broad. Strange the o'erwhelming tide that beareth on The soul 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 be 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 3 , Though little they Heav'n'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. * 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 heav'nly 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 our 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 XXI. 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 th' o'er-mantling gloom ; Bright shapes come forth, arch, pinnacle, and dome, In Heav'n 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 be 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. 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 Heav'ns 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. 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. D 2 00 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 Heav'n, 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 turn, 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 naming 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 Heav'n 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. g to tf) 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 Church, some Ev'ning funeral o'er A leaf's still image in a fountain hoar On cloistral pane the gaze of Saint or Seer, Suffus'd with lessons sweet of heav'nly lore, And heav'nly-rapt affection These all wear Calm unalloy'd, but none 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 Wooing in vain; old yews, hiding the ground, Grey oaks, and far-off spires, seem to have found 40 THE WAY TO THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 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 be- long, 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 Heav'n's door The star its silver image shoots below, Seen instantaneous in the wat'ry floor ; So quick 'tween Earth and Heav'n 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 Cijc Chapter Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of th St. John x. 2. Chapter goustf. EPISCOPACY. I. The Key-stone oft/ie visible Church. II. Sacred Antiquity. 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 bound 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 heav'n-born harmony ! Touch'd by th' all-hallowing Spirit from above, Thou filFst the Church, else dead, with duteous love, Obedience, such as holds the hosts on high, And pure heav'n-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 May catch the echo of th' 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 44 THE CHAPTER HOUSE. (Like that pale starry lyre 'twixt sea and cloud Seen fitfully in Heav'n 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 Heav'n, 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 thy 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. III. The Sovereignty of God is shed o'er Kings, Throwing around them a mysterious fear, Which, though it would not, cannot but revere. THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 45 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 garment fills, And grace and truth th' impregnate air distills 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, Forebore to shake his spray-bespangled locks : 'Tis thus when man the Almighty's goodness mocks ; 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 : 46 THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 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. The 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, 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 . 1 See St. John xx. 22, 23. THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 47 VI, Therefore to you the choirs of Heav'n 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, gather'd or from earth or sky, Ye chiefest servants of a suffering Lord, The King of shame and sorrow? what afford Sky-tinctur'd grain to robe you? Other dress Faith owns not, save her Master's lowliness. VII. So not alone Christ's mission-crown on high Shall gird your brows with radiance, but the urn Of Heav'n'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, 48 THE CHAPTER HOUSE. And round th' all-conquering Cross of shame discern, 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 Heav'n 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 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 Heav'n, 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 THE CHAPTER HOUSE. 49 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 !" PART II. E 2 As for me, I will come into Thine house, even upon the multitude of Thy mercy : Eljc CijurtJ) in &opc. I)c Ci)urd) tn And in Thy fear will I worship toward Thy holy temple Vsaln THE CHURCH IN HOPE. 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, thrice 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 gl oom, Which upon Judah's sceptre played *. 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-promis'd 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 POUCH. 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 MarshalFd 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: Cije CJjurdjman'S dfrimte. Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours : and their works do follow them. Ilev. *iv. 1.1 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 Opep your repose, And, her and him between, your heavenly barriers close. THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES, 59 KING CHARLES I. 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. THK SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. KETTLEWELL. Is there a form in England's Church enshrin'd, Which some bright guardian Angel doth invest With his own hues, in which her mien imprest, And her transforming spirit throughly shin'd, In calm obedience lovingly resign'd? '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 3 ," 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 Heav'n'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. a See his Hymn on Heaven. 02 THE SEPULCHRAL RECESSES. Early seen at Heav'n'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 stern discipline To the towers divine. "Come, my people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut thy doors about thee ; bide thyself as it were for a little moment, until the indignation be overpast." ratoncS. ConsiolattonS When thou prayeat, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Fattier which is in secret: tun! ttiy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly." St. Matthew vl. C Cfre 0ratorfo& CONSOLATIONS AND STRONG-HOLDS. DISTANT CHURCH MUSIC. My 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 Heav'n. My soul is all unspher'd, 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, Heav'n's portal darkly gleams, He hath gone down to man. * Far hath He thrown His crown to stars of Heav'n, And to the skies His clear empyreal robe, To liglitning His bright spear, And to the clouds His bow b . 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 sackcolth-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. B 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-lov'd Lord to greet, Lift up your eyes ! E'en now His coming glows Where, on the skirt of yon Heav'n-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. 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 Heav'n'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. P 2 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. 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 1 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 we may 'scape Thy judgment. Dread the sea 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, THK 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 Heav'n'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. THE ORATORIES. 73 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. 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 Heav'n-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-controul 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, 74 THE ORATORIES. 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. 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. Cpt^tlc anil osptl. All the day long have I stretched fortl unto disobedient a: people. CJje fLottl) Cranssept THE PSALMS. QOR JESUS CHRIST IN PROPHECY.] I. Not to those heights where holy Herbert sits, Or heav'n- 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, butfurtheryetand 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 fount, 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 Heav'n-born Truth shrinks from sublunar 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 Heav'n 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 whate'er of good desire, Of love, or thought serene the bosom swells, There they on bodiless wings to Heav'n 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 Heav'n, 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 sorrow 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, Labors 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-protecting 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 withHim;herewithHim 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, Hath woo'd your choral voice to sooth his solitude*. 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, The failing spirit walks unfading groves among. Bishop Home. 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 heav'nly 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 pure throne Come forth, liftmy 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 Come again, tranquil spirit, oh, unroll 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 controul ! 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*; Gethsemane, is this thy night so rude ? On yon dark mound the cup of woe they blend b ; There 'neath mysterious shades they for Thy robe contend . 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 ? i Ps. xli. 9. Ps. Ixix. 22. = Ps. xxii. 18. 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 Heav'n-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 flower s,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. G 2 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 d . How hast thou supplied 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, d 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 Heav'n, 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 gleams 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 old world with fabled heroes rung, Men like toGods,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 Heav'n leagued 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 ; Nor 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 Heav'n, 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 washed 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 Heav'n's archway strays. THE NORTH TRANSEPT. 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 forever young. In the raidst of the street, and ou either side ol the was there the Tree of Life $ortl) Histe. JWttttle Hisle. Sourt) 'aisle. Corn's Draper. Tttolv Scripture. f>e reeB. And the leaves of the Tree for the healing of the nations. Rev. xxii. 2. THE LORD'S PRAYER. I. Varieties in Nature combined with identity. II. The same to be observed in the Lord's Prayer. III. A Paraphrase of it in the Baptismal Service. IV. In t/ie daily Prayers. V. In the Litany. VI. In t/ie Ante-Communion. VII. In the Post- Communion Service. VIII. In the Marriage Service. IX. In the Burial Service. X. Its soundness 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 alone 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 Heav'n'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. How 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 Heav'n, 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 NOKTH 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 An 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 born 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. 97 Oft as breaks out their mother's stain, While they advance to Heav'n, 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 8 , 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. a At Confirmation. 98 THE NOKTH 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': 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. e 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 earthy cell, The Kingdom and the Glory dwell With Thee, alone unchangeable." V. In t/ie Litany. Who long in light of prayer abide, As in the Sun's bright gushing tide, H 2 100 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' changeTful 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 '' ; 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. <* The Sentences before the Lord's Prayer in the Litany. THli NORTH AISLE. 101 Strengthen, and comfort, raise us, and support, So may Thy will be done, as 'tis in Heav'n : 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 Sorrow's 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-rob'd 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 Heav'n, 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, Arid 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, And Thou art standing by alone*. VII. In (he 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, e Alluding to the Scriptures, /. 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 heav'nly 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 t/tc Marriage Service. But lo, a small and silent train Is gather'd '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 color 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 heav'n-taught worth, Angelic order, and harmonious love. The ministering elements in Thy hand lie, Open for them Thy store-houses 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 morn again, Where all as Angels e Thy great Kingdom fill, And in thine everlasting glory reign !" 8 " 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 Heav'n, Give vis 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. THh 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, heavenward rise, On w'hich are built our destinies. I thank Thee, oft as we are there And stand upon the heavenly 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" h from high, The voice of God in mystery. h Urim and Thummim. ixittta, x/ 'bfaiaoii. Septuasnnt. 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 dower, 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 heav'n-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 NOIITH AISLE. The Eight that hold the heavenly door Beatitudes of Gospel lore ; The number'd Graces which all lie Jn 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, 1 See Mr Miller's Sermons, Note to Sermon V. THE NORTH AISLE. Ill 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 bqrn Advance we into Heav'nly 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 Heav'n 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 burn'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 heav'nly 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 controul 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 Heav'n-ward bear our need, When in this temple, greenly dight, And arch'd o'er with its roof of light, 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-ilium in'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 Heav'n ! i 2 116 THE NORTH AISLE. Said I 'twas like the solemn Sea, So simple in sublimity, Transform'd to meet each changing scene, And glass Heav'n'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 1 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 ! HOLY SCRIPTURE. I. Its consolations and guidance as supplied in the daily Service. II. The same continued. III. Its secret meanings. IV. Dis- closed to obedience, and in the day of visitation. V. The fall Abraham. VI. Tlie wilderness Canaan, as applicable to our- selves. VII. The varied teaching in Job, Proverbs, and Eccle- siastes. VIII. The Prophets under temporal evils disclosing Christ. IX. The kingdom of Heaven upon earth. X. Chrisfs Presence continued in His Churcii. XI. Forerunners of the Day of Judgment. XII. A confessional prayer. Our mirror is a blessed hook, 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 littly, onward, Heav'n-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 ofiThy 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. 119 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 sword-less 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 in deeper loneliness. Thence is the soul attun'd to secret spells Of that eternal music heard in Heav'n, 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 morn and eve, Leading us on, unseen, unheard of man : Constant as dews whose footsteps fall from Heav'n, 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' new 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 intervals, 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.H-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 way ', If, with that Ethiop stranger, o'er Thy word I bend, Thy heav'n-sent guide is at my side. IV. Thy guiding light a little further on ! Shower on my heart Thy radiance, without which a 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 glows 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 AISLK. 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, Heav'n'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 hurry ing 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 Heav'n-conversing solitude ; that sight Girds me with other strength, but loitering still Myself 1 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. Heav'n 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 Heav'n opens in the wild, We knowing know not, but to Egypt turn. Like that fam'd Trojan in the Tyrian hall 11 Who mid the pictur'd host himself descried, & JEne\d. 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 Heav'n ; 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 ? 1*28 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 d ; 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. d 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. I '29 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 pictur'd form, And all combine in one mysterious whole. There Wisdom varies oft her mien and form, 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, 130 THE MIDDLE AISLE. Wherein the Gospel's light in secret burns, A tree of life, an ever brightening path, Now 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 a . 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 earthly vanity, Of nothing true but God, nor .calm but Heav'n ! VIII. Thy guiding hand a little further on ! What visionary shapes now fill the gloom 6 , 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 thy throne ? Daughter of Salem, from what tower of strength Descending, sitt'st thou at the gate of Death ? And can our God cast off his own elect ? Desolate Judah, lesson sad to us ! a The Proverbs. * 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, while rebel 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, It doth disclose the Sun of Righteousness, Streaming in light o'er the dim vale of life, And hills of immortality afar. K 2 132 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 day 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 combin'd 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 receiv'd 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 6 . A 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 brightness, 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 stedfastness, 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, 184 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 chaunt of praise, 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 we 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 cJoud. 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 ecstasy, That climbs the Heavens to light th' unhallow'd torch, THE MIDDLE AISLE. 139 Fever'd Imagination's fiery wing, Like vap'rous breath, which in the furnace mounts, Fann'd to a vitreous blaze, and hangs again In earth-born vapor on the vault above ; But in that viewless flame, from ashes born 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 stairs by Israel seen, dwindle behind The towers of earth, and gradual grow before The immensities of Heav'n. Oh, lend me wings, Ethereal Spirit, ere that stair of Heav'n 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 140 THE MIDDLE AISLE. Our robes to meet Thee, and to trim the lamp. Bow'd with th' o'erwhelming burden down to earth, I dar'd 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 Heav'n 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. THE MIDDLE AISLE. 141 Oh, lead me but a little further on ! Oh, now, I now behold Thee, who Thou art, Celestial Visitant ! I see Thee now Confess'd, and my revealed God adore ! Stay with me, for the evening goes away ; I 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 be impressed with, its importance, IV. The same. V. Unsatisfying nature of earthly things. VI. The Creed paraphrased, 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 as thus held. 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. Ken, 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 array'd, 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 display'd, 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 Heav'n'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 wild 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 'neath 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 Heav'ns and earth and sea and land, When lo, the crystal skies descend", 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 ! * 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 Heav'n. '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 L 2 148 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, Heav'n's heights and everlasting goal. What lit in thee the lamp of love, Great Saint of Patmos ? Thoughts above 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 Heav'ns 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 mov'd, beneath the nightly skies, Mid the divided sacrifice. Then spake a voice to Terah's son", ' Mid foes, meek stranger, hold thee on, ' A little while on either hand ' They shall be gone, but thou shalt stand.' " 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-stol'd Una with her lambs 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 awhile, 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 Heav'n'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 sooth 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, Hut 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 Presence nigh ; 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 ? 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 41 , What shall withhold a Father's hand, That hand which made of old the sky and sea and shore ? c I believe in God.