LAST night, without a voice, that Vision spake Fear to my Soul, and sadness which might seem Wholly dissevered from our present theme; Yet, my beloved Country! I partake Of kindred agitations for thy sake;
Thou, too, dost visit oft my midnight dream; Thy glory meets me with the earliest beam Of light, which tells that Morning is awake. If aught impair thy beauty or destroy, Or but forebode destruction, I deplore With filial love the sad vicissitude;
If thou hast fallen, and righteous Heaven restore The prostrate, then my spring-time is renewed, And sorrow bartered for exceeding joy.
WALTON'S BOOK OF LIVES.
THERE are no colours in the fairest sky
So fair as these. The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an Angel's wing. With moistened eye We read of faith and purest charity
In Statesman, Priest, and humble Citizen: O could we copy their mild virtues, then What joy to live, what blessedness to die! Methinks their very names shine still and bright; Apart-like glow-worms on a summer night; Or lonely tapers when from far they fling A guiding ray; or seen-like stars on high, Satellites burning in a lucid ring Around meek Walton's heavenly memory.
WHO Comes with rapture greeted, and caress'd With frantic love-his kingdom to regain? Him Virtue's Nurse, Adversity, in vain Received, and fostered in her iron breast: For all she taught of hardiest and of best, Or would have taught, by discipline of pain And long privation, now dissolves amain, Or is remembered only to give zest To wantonness.-Away, Circean revels! But for what gain? if England soon must sink Into a gulf which all distinction levels- That bigotry may swallow the good name,
And, with that draught, the life-blood: misery, shame,
NOR shall the eternal roll of praise reject Those Unconforming; whom one rigorous day Drives from their Cures, a voluntary prey To poverty, and grief, and disrespect, And some to want-as if by tempests wrecked On a wild coast; how destitute! did They Feel not that Conscience never can betray, That peace of mind is Virtue's sure effect. Their altars they forego, their homes they quit, Fields which they love, and paths they daily trod, And cast the future upon Providence ; As men the dictate of whose inward sense Outweighs the world; whom self-deceiving wit
By Poets loathed; from which Historians shrink! Lures not from what they deem the cause of God.
YET Truth is keenly sought for, and the wind Charged with rich words poured out in thought's
Whether the Church inspire that eloquence, Or a Platonic Piety confined
To the sole temple of the inward mind;
And One there is who builds immortal lays, Though doomed to tread in solitary ways, Darkness before and danger's voice behind; Yet not alone, nor helpless to repel
Sad thoughts; for from above the starry sphere Come secrets, whispered nightly to his ear; And the pure spirit of celestial light Shines through his soul-that he may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight.'
And the sword stopped; the bleeding wounds were And Faith preserved her ancient purity. How little boots that precedent of good, Scorned or forgotten, Thou canst testify, For England's shame, O Sister Realm! from wood, Mountain, and moor, and crowded street, where lie The headless martyrs of the Covenant, Slain by Compatriot-protestants that draw From councils senseless as intolerant Their warrant. Bodies fall by wild sword-law; But who would force the Soul, tilts with a straw Against a Champion cased in adamant.
ACQUITTAL OF THE BISHOPS.
A VOICE, from long-expecting thousands sent, Shatters the air, and troubles tower and spire; For Justice hath absolved the innocent, And Tyranny is balked of her desire: Up, down, the busy Thames-rapid as fire Coursing a train of gunpowder-it went, And transport finds in every street a vent, Till the whole City rings like one vast quire. The Fathers urge the People to be still, [vain! With outstretched hands and earnest speech-in Yea, many, haply wont to entertain Small reverence for the mitre's offices, And to Religion's self no friendly will, A Prelate's blessing ask on bended knees.
A SUDDEN Conflict rises from the swell Of a proud slavery met by tenets strained In Liberty's behalf. Fears, true or feigned, Spread through all ranks; and lo! the Sentinel Who loudest rang his pulpit 'larum bell, Stands at the Bar, absolved by female eyes Mingling their glances with grave flatteries Lavished on Him-that England may rebel Against her ancient virtue. HIGH and Low, Watch-words of Party, on all tongues are rife; As if a Church, though sprung from heaven, must To opposites and fierce extremes her life,- [owe Not to the golden mean, and quiet flow Of truths that soften hatred, temper strife.
CALM as an under-current, strong to draw Millions of waves into itself, and run, From sea to sea, impervious to the sun And ploughing storm, the spirit of Nassau Swerves not, (how blest if by religious awe Swayed, and thereby enabled to contend. With the wide world's commotions) from its end Swerves not-diverted by a casual law. Had mortal action e'er a nobler scope? The Hero comes to liberate, not defy; And, while he marches on with stedfast hope, Conqueror beloved! expected anxiously! The vacillating Bondman of the Pope Shrinks from the verdict of his stedfast eye.
Down a swift Stream, thus far, a bold design Have we pursued, with livelier stir of heart Than his who sees, borne forward by the Rhine, The living landscapes greet him, and depart; Sees spires fast sinking-up again to start! And strives the towers to number, that recline O'er the dark steeps, or on the horizon line Striding with shattered crests his eye athwart. So have we hurried on with troubled pleasure: Henceforth, as on the bosom of a stream
That slackens, and spreads wide a watery gleam, We, nothing loth a lingering course to measure, May gather up our thoughts, and mark at leisure How widely spread the interests of our theme.
OBLIGATIONS OF CIVIL TO RELIGIOUS LIBERTY.
UNGRATEFUL Country, if thou e'er forget The sons who for thy civil rights have bled! How, like a Roman, Sidney bowed his head, And Russel's milder blood the scaffold wet; But these had fallen for profitless regret Had not thy holy Church her champions bred, And claims from other worlds inspirited The star of Liberty to rise. Nor yet (Grave this within thy heart!) if spiritual things Be lost, through apathy, or scorn, or fear, Shalt thou thy humbler franchises support, However hardly won or justly dear:
What came from heaven to heaven by nature clings, And, if dissevered thence, its course is short.
ASPECTS OF CHRISTIANITY IN AMERICA. 1. THE PILGRIM FATHERS. WELL worthy to be magnified are they Who, with sad hearts, of friends and country took A last farewell, their loved abodes forsook, And hallowed ground in which their fathers lay; Then to the new-found World explored their way, That so a Church, unforced, uncalled to brook Ritual restraints, within some sheltering nook Her Lord might worship and his word obey In freedom. Men they were who could not bend; Blest Pilgrims, surely, as they took for guide A will by sovereign Conscience sanctified; Blest while their Spirits from the woods ascend Along a Galaxy that knows no end, But in His glory who for Sinners died.
FROM Rite and Ordinance abused they fled To Wilds where both were utterly unknown; But not to them had Providence foreshown What benefits are missed, what evils bred, In worship neither raised nor limited Save by Self-will. Lo! from that distant shore, For Rite and Ordinance, Piety is led Back to the Land those Pilgrims left of yore, Led by her own free choice. So Truth and Love By Conscience governed do their steps retrace.- Fathers! your Virtues, such the power of grace, Their spirit, in your Children, thus approve. Transcendent over time, unbound by place, Concord and Charity in circles move.
As star that shines dependent upon star Is to the sky while we look up in love; As to the deep fair ships which though they move Seem fixed, to eyes that watch them from afar; As to the sandy desert fountains are, With palm-groves shaded at wide intervals, Whose fruit around the sun-burnt Native falls Of roving tired or desultory war—
Such to this British Isle her christian Fanes, Each linked to each for kindred services; Her Spires, her Steeple-towers with glittering vanes Far-kenned, her Chapels lurking among trees, Where a few villagers on bended knees Find solace which a busy world disdains.
BISHOPS and Priests, blessed are ye, if deep (As yours above all offices is high) Deep in your hearts the sense of duty lie; Charged as ye are by Christ to feed and keep From wolves your portion of his chosen sheep: Labouring as ever in your Master's sight, Making your hardest task your best delight, What perfect glory ye in Heaven shall reap!- But, in the solemn Office which ye sought And undertook premonished, if unsound Your practice prove, faithless though but in thought, Bishops and Priests, think what a gulf profound Awaits you then, if they were rightly taught Who framed the Ordinance by your lives disowned!
YES, if the intensities of hope and fear Attract us still, and passionate exercise Of lofty thoughts, the way before us lies Distinct with signs, through which in set career, As through a zodiac, moves the ritual year Of England's Church; stupendous mysteries! Which whoso travels in her bosom eyes, As he approaches them, with solemn cheer. Upon that circle traced from sacred story We only dare to cast a transient glance, Trusting in hope that Others may advance With mind intent upon the King of Glory, From his mild advent till his countenance Shall dissipate the seas and mountains hoary.
DEAR be the Church, that, watching o'er the needs Of Infancy, provides a timely shower Whose virtue changes to a christian Flower A Growth from sinful Nature's bed of weeds !— Fitliest beneath the sacred roof proceeds The ministration; while parental Love Looks on, and Grace descendeth from above As the high service pledges now, now pleads. There, should vain thoughts outspread their wings To meet the coming hours of festal mirth, [and fly The tombs-which hear and answer that brief cry, The Infant's notice of his second birth- Recal the wandering Soul to sympathy
With what man hopes from Heaven, yet fears from Earth.
THE Young-ones gathered in from hill and dale, With holiday delight on every brow:
'Tis passed away; far other thoughts prevail; For they are taking the baptismal Vow Upon their conscious selves; their own lips speak The solemn promise. Strongest sinews fail, And many a blooming, many a lovely, cheek Under the holy fear of God turns pale; While on each head his lawn-robed Servant lays An apostolic hand, and with prayer seals The Covenant. The Omnipotent will raise Their feeble Souls; and bear with his regrets, Who, looking round the fair assemblage, feels That ere the Sun goes down their childhood sets.
FATHER! to God himself we cannot give A holier name! then lightly do not bear Both names conjoined, but of thy spiritual care Be duly mindful: still more sensitive Do Thou, in truth a second Mother, strive Against disheartening custom, that by Thee Watched, and with love and pious industry Tended at need, the adopted Plant may thrive For everlasting bloom. Benign and pure This Ordinance, whether loss it would supply, Prevent omission, help deficiency, Or seek to make assurance doubly sure. Shame if the consecrated Vow be found An idle form, the Word an empty sound!
CONFIRMATION CONTINUED.
I SAW a Mother's eye intensely bent Upon a Maiden trembling as she knelt; In and for whom the pious Mother felt Things that we judge of by a light too faint: Tell, if ye may, some star-crowned Muse, or Saint! Tell what rushed in, from what she was relieved-- Then, when her Child the hallowing touch received, And such vibration through the Mother went That tears burst forth amain. Did gleams appear? Opened a vision of that blissful place Where dwells a Sister-child? And was power given Part of her lost One's glory back to trace Even to this Rite? For thus She knelt, and, ere The summer-leaf had faded, passed to Heaven.
FROM Little down to Least, in due degree, Around the Pastor, each in new-wrought vest, Each with a vernal posy at his breast, We stood, a trembling, earnest Company! With low soft murmur, like a distant bee, Some spake, by thought-perplexing fears betrayed; And some a bold unerring answer made: How fluttered then thy anxious heart for me, Beloved Mother! Thou whose happy hand Had bound the flowers I wore, with faithful tie : Sweet flowers! at whose inaudible command Her countenance, phantom-like, doth re-appear: O lost too early for the frequent tear, And ill requited by this heartfelt sigh !
By chain yet stronger must the Soul be tied : One duty more, last stage of this ascent, Brings to thy food, mysterious Sacrament! The Offspring, haply at the Parent's side; But not till They, with all that do abide In Heaven, have lifted up their hearts to laud And magnify the glorious name of God, Fountain of grace, whose Son for sinners died. Ye, who have duly weighed the summons, pause No longer; ye, whom to the saving rite The Altar calls; come early under laws That can secure for you a path of light Through gloomiest shade; put on (nor dread its weight)
Armour divine, and conquer in your cause!
THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY.
THE Vested Priest before the Altar stands; Approach, come gladly, ye prepared, in sight Of God and chosen friends, your troth to plight With the symbolic ring, and willing hands Solemnly joined. Now sanctify the bands O Father!-to the Espoused thy blessing give, That mutually assisted they may live Obedient, as here taught, to thy commands. So prays the Church, to consecrate a Vow "The which would endless matrimony make;" Union that shadows forth and doth partake A mystery potent human love to endow With heavenly, each more prized for the other's Weep not, meek Bride! uplift thy timid brow.
THE COMMINATION SERVICE.
SHUN not this Rite, neglected, yea abhorred, By some of unreflecting mind, as calling Man to curse man, (thought monstrous and appalling.)
Go thou and hear the threatenings of the Lord; Listening within his Temple see his sword Unsheathed in wrath to strike the offender's head, Thy own, if sorrow for thy sin be dead, Guilt unrepented, pardon unimplored. Two aspects bears Truth needful for salvation; Who knows not that?-yet would this delicate age Look only on the Gospel's brighter page: Let light and dark duly our thoughts employ ; So shall the fearful words of Commination Yield timely fruit of peace and love and joy.
THANKSGIVING AFTER CHILDBIRTH.
WOMAN! the Power who left his throne on high, And deigned to wear the robe of flesh we wear, The Power that thro' the straits of Infancy Did pass dependant on maternal care, His own humanity with Thee will share, Pleased with the thanks that in his People's eye Thou offerest up for safe Delivery
From Childbirth's perilous throes. And should the Heir
Of thy fond hopes hereafter walk inclined To courses fit to make a mother rue That ever he was born, a glance of mind Cast upon this observance may renew A better will; and, in the imagined view Of thee thus kneeling, safety he may find.
FORMS OF PRAYER AT SEA.
To kneeling Worshippers no earthly floor Gives holier invitation than the deck
Of a storm-shattered Vessel saved from Wreck (When all that Man could do avail'd no more) By him who raised the Tempest and restrains: Happy the crew who this have felt, and pour Forth for his mercy, as the Church ordains, Solemn thanksgiving. Nor will they implore In vain who, for a rightful cause, give breath To words the Church prescribes aiding the lip For the heart's sake, ere ship with hostile ship Encounters, armed for work of pain and death. Suppliants! the God to whom your cause ye trust Will listen, and ye know that He is just.
VISITATION OF THE SICK.
THE Sabbath bells renew the inviting peal; Glad music! yet there be that, worn with pain And sickness, listen where they long have lain, In sadness listen. With maternal zeal Inspired, the Church sends ministers to kneel Beside the afflicted; to sustain with prayer, And soothe the heart confession hath laid bare- That pardon, from God's throne, may set its seal On a true Penitent. When breath departs From one disburthened so, so comforted, His Spirit Angels greet; and ours be hope That, if the Sufferer rise from his sick-bed, Hence he will gain a firmer mind, to cope With a bad world, and foil the Tempter's arts.
FROM the Baptismal hour, thro' weal and woe, The Church extends her care to thought and deed; Nor quits the Body when the Soul is freed, The mortal weight cast off to be laid low. Blest Rite for him who hears in faith, "I know That my Redeemer liveth,"-hears each word That follows-striking on some kindred chord Deep in the thankful heart ;-yet tears will flow. Man is as grass that springeth up at morn, Grows green, and is cut down and withereth Ere nightfall-truth that well may claim a sigh, Its natural echo; but hope comes reborn At Jesu's bidding. We rejoice, "O Death Where is thy Sting?-O Grave where is thy Vic- tory?"
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