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PART III. The Choir.
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201

PART III. The Choir.


203

The Steps to the Choir.

THE LITANY.

I

Ye Litanies of ancient prayer,
Here, in our holy ground,
Ye rise, a bright and crystal stair,
Which clouds and gloom surround;
A crystal stair the purer Heav'ns ascending,
Fair as the seas and skies, at evening's portal blending.

II

Fair as when, from yon western door,
The showering sunbeams stream,
And restless motes, which sink and soar,
Shine in the silver gleam;
Thus shapes of human woe within that shrine
Come forth, and catch the light, mingling with hope divine.

204

III

It is a stair which climbs a throne,
Within a sacred tower,
The tower of truth to man made known,—
Mysterious love and power;
The soul-sustaining truth, of One in Three,
And Three in One, enthron'd o'er the tumultuous sea

IV

It is a stair descending low,
'Mid shapes of mortal ill,
Into the deeps of sin and woe,
Deeps opening deeper still,
Till an upholding hand is stretch'd to raise
From the unfathom'd gulf of sin-deluding ways.

V

It is a stair where, evermore,
The Church's duteous feet
On mysteries of Christian lore
Ascend the Mercy-seat;
Brought near in Christ, she dares to intercede,
And, in His robe array'd, for fallen man to plead.

205

VI

It is a stair by Love allow'd,
Where Heav'n-born Prayers may pass;
As when the sun looks on a cloud,
When suddenly the mass
Turns to a wondrous arch and glorious way,
Built for Heav'n's messengers by the emerging ray.

VII

Descending here with sky-lit lamp,
They enter palaces,
Or cells of sorrow, dark and damp,
With voice of sweet release,
Now break the prison bars with gentle might,
Now ope on sinful hearts kind Mercy's cheering light.

VIII

There Prayers may pass;—I deem them not,
As heathen poets told,
Forgetting man, by man forgot,
Half-sighted, lame, and old,
Following fleet-footed evil round the earth
To heal the woes she made, not antedate their birth:

206

IX

But rather bright-hair'd angel guests,
Fair children of the skies,—
And sure and swift on kind behests,
And healing embassies,
Quick as the light to th'Heav'n of Heav'ns ye spring,
Then shake celestial air from your returning wing.

X

Thus when of old, beneath the skies,
Or holier aisles around,
The Church her moving Litanies
Like incense had unbound,
Away had Pestilence and Famine fled,
And Heresy had hid her bad embolden'd head.

XI

And now where is her arm of strength,
When all th'unchristian rout
Are gather'd, and are set at length
Her Israel's camp about?—
'Tis not in sword, or banded multitude,
But in the hidden lamps, with heavenly oil endued.

207

XII

Invok'd by David's son of old,
Thy Presence rose to sight;
In courts of cedar and of gold,
Was shed the Living Light;
One more than David's son for us hath prayed,
Whose viewless Presence fills His Church's mystic shade.

208

The Approach to the Choir.

DESPONDENCY.

And is this all? and what avail
These cloistral watchings pale?
And what to walk in holy heed
Beneath th'o'erarching Creed?
Or track Heav'n-lighten'd caves of thought,
In prayer which Jesus taught?—
These to His presence-chamber bring,
Where, as an abject thing,
In that true light for evermore
We should ourselves deplore.

209

INVITATION.

O drooping Sadness, whose wrapt gaze
Hath been on face of slow-pac'd night
Watching the beam of dawning light,
Come here, and learn thy song of praise.
O Singleness of eye and heart,
Which fleetest over earthly things,
Nor fold'st below thy weary wings,
Here find thy rest, and take thy part.
O sacred Awe, whose downcast look
Is on the pavement of the shrine,
Which all unearthly seems to shine,
Look up,—a healing Presence brook!

210

The Skreen.

DISCIPLINA ARCANI.

The Disciplina Arcani, which is made to stand for the Skreen, is the term used to designate the practice of the early Church, in withdrawing from public view the Sacraments and higher mysteries of our Religion. These were carefully kept from the knowledge of the unconverted, till they were duly prepared for the reception of them. This primitive custom was probably rather derived than invented. But the reasons given for its observance were partly founded on a reverence for the sacred mysteries themselves; partly as considering it conducive to the advantage of those who were thus excluded. See Bingham's Antiq. b. x. c. 5. and Newman's Arians, c. l. sect. 3.

Nature withdraws from human sight
The treasures of her light;
In earth's deep mines, or ocean's cells,
Her secret glory dwells.
'Tis darkly thro' night's veil on high
She shews the starry sky;
And where of beauty ought is found,
She draws a shade around;
Nor fully e'er unveils to sense
Steps of bright Providence.
When out of Sion God appear'd
For perfect beauty fear'd,
The darkness was His chariot,
And clouds were all about.
Hiding His dread sublimity,
When Jesus walked nigh,
He threw around His works of good
A holier solitude;
Ris'n from the grave appear'd to view
But to a faithful few.

211

Alone e'en now, as then of old,
The pure of heart behold
The soul-restoring miracles
Wherein His mercy dwells;
New marvels unto them reveal'd,
But from the whole conceal'd.
Then pause, and fear,—when thus allow'd
We enter the dark cloud,
Lord, keep our hearts, that soul and eye
Unharm'd may Thee descry.

213

The Choir.

Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in His holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart Psalm xxiv. 3, 4.

The Sacramental, or Eucharistic, Hymn, commonly called the Angelical Hymn, or the Great Doxology, has been from an early period used in the Communion Service. See Bingham, xiv. 21. c. 11. sec. 2.

The liberty which has here been taken of introducing Angels, has been partly from the received notion of their being present in Churches. In a Church, says Origen, “there are two assemblies, one of Angels, the other of men.” “The gravest of the ancient Fathers,” says Hooker, “affirm, that the House of Prayer is a Court beautified with the presence of celestial powers: that there we stand, we pray, we sound forth hymns unto God, having his Angels intermingled as our associates.” (Eccl. Pol. b. v. 25.) And partly from this being the Hymn which Angels brought down from Heaven. But chiefly because in these two Hymns, which are used in the Eucharist, the “Gloria in excelsis” and the “Trisagion,” the Church was wont to call upon the heavenly inhabitants to join in giving thanks to God; of which see an interesting account in Bingham, vol. v. b. xv. 10. where, among the passages quoted from the Fathers, are the following. “Heretofore,” says St. Chrysostom, “this hymn was only sung in Heaven, but after that the Lord vouchsafed to come down upon earth, he brought this melody to us also. Therefore the Bishop, when he stands at this holy table to present our rational service, and offer the unbloody sacrifice, does not simply call upon us to join in this glorification, but first naming the Cherubims, and making mention of the Seraphims, he then exhorts us all to send up these tremendous words, and withdrawing our minds from the earth by intimating with what company we make a Choir, he cries out to every man, and says as it were in these words; ‘Thou singest with the Seraphims, stand together with the Seraphims, stretch forth thy wings with them, with them fly round the royal throne.’” In another place says the same ancient writer, “The Seraphims above sing the holy Trisagion Hymn: the holy congregation of men on earth send up the same: the general assembly of celestial and earthly creatures join together: there is one thanksgiving,—μια ευχαριστια,— one exultation, one choir of men and angels in one station rejoicing together.” We have also intimations of the same practice in our own Service, “Therefore with Angels and Archangels, and with all the company of Heaven, we laud and magnify Thy glorious Name; evermore praising Thee, and saying, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of hosts, heaven and earth are full of Thy glory: Glory be to Thee, O Lord Most High. Amen.”

THE SACRAMENTAL HYMN.

I.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high:
Beyond where dwells the evening star
In his golden house afar;
Where upon th'eternal noon
Never look'd the silver moon;
Thro' innumerable skies
Multitudinous voices rise,
And in harmonious concord meet
Around our Saviour's feet,
Beneath mysterious veils descending from His seat.

214

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below:
God is in His holy hill;
Let the earth and sea be still;
And the child of sin and woe
Come before Him, bowing low;
In His breast the living One
Makes His altar and His throne;
He comes from Heav'n's high citadel,
With men on earth to dwell,—
The pure in heart alone shall see the Invisible.

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above:
From dwellings of th'Eternal Word,
Whose house is immortality,
He letteth down the triple chord,
Of Faith and Hope and Love from high;
And from His cradle to His throne
Extends a living zone,
Which binds anew the ancient Heav'ns and earth,
Now teeming with the throes of a more glorious birth.

215

II.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high:
Angel faces stand aloof
On the starry temple roof;—
Your bright-wing'd consistory
Round our altars we deem nigh;
Now, in awe and dread amaze,
From your crystal heights ye gaze;
And see the sun that lights you, sent
From your deep firmament,
And coming down with man to make his lowly tent.

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below:
Wisdom deep in sacred lore
Hides within her secret store,
Like the sweet soul of the lyre,
Slumbering in the silent wire;
But in Christ their blending tone,
In responsive union,
Rings out with solemn harmonies,
The music of the skies,
At whose heart-soothing sound the evil spirit flies.

216

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above:
The Law and Prophets here have won
The glory of their Master's light,
As Mòses and Elias shone
With Him upon the mountain height:
The Gospel in His light display'd,
Is all translucent made,
As when, reveal'd on Tabor's holy ground,
With light divinely burn'd His clothing's skirts around.

III.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high,
Where, in bosom of all space,
Sun and moon have found no place;
Where lies the waveless, shoreless sea
Of eternal clarity;
Where the Saints have fled life's woes
To their haven of repose,
And earth beneath them as they soar,
Releas'd for evermore,
Seems but a wither'd leaf on some bright wat'ry floor.

217

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below:
Pride and envy have no place
Where His sons God doth embrace;
Where the fountain overflows,
Whose full breast no lessening knows;
Where old Eden's fallen towers
The new tree of life embowers,
That, fearless of the fiery brand,
And bold in God's command,
There man may eat, and live, led by Angelic hand.

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above:
Here at His feast doth Love preside,
Love weaves anew the nuptial tie,
Love decks with health the living Bride,
And clothes with holy poverty:
The ancient Heavens array'd in might,
Walk their high paths of light,
As Duty marshals their appointed way,
But Love attunes their steps to an harmonious lay.

218

IV.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high,
Where the armies of the skies
Stand in snowy galaxies,
Fair as dreams, in bright platoon,
Brighter than th'Autumnal moon,
Where many a wild avenue
Draws afar the eager view;
And worlds, in darker distance sown,
People the living zone,
Like sparks that issue forth from Glory's burning throne.

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below,
Where in visions half divine
Sunsets part, and parting twine
Bridal robes of earth and sky,
Passing fair, tho' born to die;
Where unearthly hues adorn
The advance of rising morn;
And dimly thro' the gates of earth,
'Mid want, decay, and dearth,
There wander embryo shapes which speak a heavenly birth.

219

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above:
A little while I hid my face;
But Mercy shall to thee abound,
Firm as the mountains in their place,
With everlasting arms around:
Yea, the strong mountains' firm array,
And hills shall pass away,
But in that hour My Love shall stand with thee,
Rising from mists of time, a mansion strong and free.

V.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high:
Bright and golden panoplies,
Sweet angelic harmonies,
That, all dark to our weak sight,
In the centre of all light,
Sing, and singing sweetly move,—
'Tween you and the fount of Love,
There never yet came ought of blame,
But, free from sin and shame,
Fresh in your innocence ye lift your glad acclaim.

220

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below,
Where Repentance, lowly-wise,
In spirit of self-sacrifice,
Lowly bows her shame to feel,
And her sin-wrought wounds to heal;
Till the breath of new desires,
Here enkindling holy fires,
Devours the seeds of death and sin,
Until there stirs within
A voice not all unmeet His praises to begin.

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above;
Here encircling round Him swells
The sea of boundless charity,
Which thence doth work thro' secret cells,
Unnumber'd fountains to supply,
Till through Creation's utmost round
Sweet flowing streams abound,
Upon whose banks His creatures find repose,
Where many a flower lies hid, or towering cedar grows.

221

VI.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high,
Where the lov'd and lost ones meet
Safe beneath their Saviour's feet:
Faces dear, 'tis now ye smile,
Ye, whom I have miss'd awhile,
Missing you, I long have hung
Downcast, silent, and unstrung,
And faint and feeble is the strain
I e'er shall wake again,
Until I join your lays beyond the reach of pain.

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below;
Seek ye, mourners, for release?
Here behold the cup of peace!
Here, with your poor fleshly ties
Are divinest sympathies;
Tho' hid a little while from sight
These spirits soft that cheer'd your night,
They are but gone like stars of morn,
Before the sun is born;—
Still near you tho' unseen His temple they adorn.

222

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above:
Tho' death doth raise his veil between,
Yet Thee in them, and them in Thee,
We solemnize awhile unseen,
And soon the cleansed sight shall see.
The Church dwells here a sufferer still,
Yet, born of heavenly birth,
Her nurture is of heavenly food, until
Her stature fills the sky, while she doth walk on earth.

VII.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high:
Where is Death, that uncouth thing?
He hath now a sheltering wing.
Awful phantom, where art thou?
Heav'n's own bloom is on thy brow,
Earth hath nothing half so fair,
Christ's own flesh and blood is there.
On thy cold lips and silent tongue
A deathless health hath sprung,
Which thro' the days of Heav'n for ever shall grow young.

223

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below.
Shape of woe! if form that be
Which is but deformity,
Death, the gloomy King of tears,
Waited on by spectral fears,
Now thy dark-illumin'd shade
Is in hope a solemn glade,
That leadeth to the place of God.
Christ is the staff and rod;
His presence lights the vale which He Himself hath trod.

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above:
The light breaks forth on shapes afar
That darkly throng'd life's closing gate,
And there keeps watch a gleaming star,
Where dismal shadows seem'd to wait;
As clouds along the bending sky,
Like mountains pil'd on high,
When lo, Thy gentle gale Thou bidd'st to blow,
And into empty air before Thy breath they go.

224

VIII.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high:
God hath ris'n, and bent His bow,
Lo, before His face they go,
Discontent with fretting chain,
Sin and sorrow, shame and pain,
To night's jail they troop away,
Like mists before the rising ray,
Which long hath climb'd conceal'd from sight,
Then from some mountain height
Majestically breaks upon the rear of night.

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below:
Here there is a living cup—
Wells of water springing up
Unto life that cannot die,—
The pledge of immortality;
'Tis a fount of heavenly strength,—
A sea of love with breadth and length
Proportion'd to th'undying soul,—
The spirit of controul
Which takes the reins of thought, and urges to the goal.

225

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above:
The bending Heav'ns have brought Him down
From out their heights of highest height,
The exil'd wanderer to own;
The abysses of the Infinite
Are all about Him,—seas and sky
Of glory,—ear and eye
Cannot discern, nor speak the mortal tongue,
But in the heart's deep home the Spirit hath a song.

IX.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high.
Scarcely, earth's new cradle round,
Had ye rais'd your gladsome sound,
When Creation drooping hung,
And your alter'd descant rung:
Then, to pleading Mercy giv'n,
Drops of pardon fell from Heav'n,
The thorn of sorrow bore the rose,
Balm was in woman's throes,
And the dark gates of death the Lord of life disclose.

226

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below,
Nature smooth'd her mournful brow,
When she saw the gleaming bow,
Which encompass'd the dark place
With the covenant of grace:
Oft as down Heav'n's cloudy stair
Comes that harbinger so fair,
The earth with incense-breathing dew,
Her veil of sorrow through,
Looks tearfully to Heav'n, and grateful smiles anew.

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above.
As, o'er the flood-reviving earth
That witness stands in Heav'n secure,
Thus o'er our new and better birth
This sacramental seal is sure:
Until the sun shall make his bed,
And time be withered,
The pledge of saving mercy shall remain;
None to His breast shall turn, and thither turn in vain.

227

X.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high.
When His people He would save,
Seas hung back on wondering wave,
And beheld their Master nigh,
Marshalling their deeps on high;
Then beneath the watery wall
Banner'd hosts went at His call,
And safe were harbour'd, till again,
Fresh bursting from his chain,
With tumbling billows rush'd the bold avenging main.

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below,
Which life's toils but rock to rest,
Cradled on a Father's breast.
When the ark descended low,
Jordan's streams forgot to flow,
Bridling back their horned march
To a hanging wavy arch,
And, lo, upon the promis'd strand
There stood an armed Hand,—
No sword of yours doth gain this fair and flowery land.

228

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above.
Lo, in the shadowy vale of years,
Oft imag'd in redeeming love,
'Tis Christ the living Way appears,
And leads to happier coasts above:—
Ready to whelm, on either hand
The awe-struck waters stand,
And, with their ancient brethren of the sky,
The ransom'd on the shore shall lift their song on high.

XI.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high,
Who well knew, yet, knowing well,
Lov'd His thankless Israel:
He His hand upon the wild
Open'd, and old Horeb smil'd:
Nature's face was sear and lone,
Helpless to sustain His own,
Lo, on Sinai's rugged side
Heav'n's doors were open'd wide,
They fed on Angel's food,—but like their fathers died.

229

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below.
Where the lone Bethsaida
Looks upon the watery spray,
Lifting up His sacred eyes,
He brought blessings from the skies;
Ever to the hands anew,
Lo, th'unearthly fragments grew;
But they who eat on that dread day,
Death's sure and silent prey,
Liv'd but their mortal span, then pass'd from earth away.

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above.
But now behold the Sacrifice,
On which alone the soul can live;
Higher than Heav'n th'uncounted price,
The boon which nature cannot give;
Fast as His holy hand supplies,
The blessing multiplies,
'Mid earthly vanities the Bread of Truth,
And 'mid decay and death food of immortal youth.

230

XII.

1. Men.

Glory be to God on high.
From Thy skirts in mortal life
Flow'd a stream with healing rife;
What new blessings shall attend
The everlasting Friend,
Coming from His holy seat
In the living Paraclete?
The savour of celestial things
In the deep bosom springs,
And Faith o'er the cold heart extends her brooding wings.

2. Angels.

Peace be upon earth below.
Soft as falls the heavenly dew,
Weary nature to renew,
Or the flakes, unearthly pure,
Of the snowy coverture,
Thus, too high for mortal sense,
Christ His presence doth dispense,
Seen in diviner sympathies,
In sacred things made wise,
And the deep Spirit's voice of penitential sighs.

231

3. Men and Angels.

Good will to man from God above.
Jesus hath left His flock below,
And gone into the mount to pray
For His disciples, left to go
Without Him on the stormy way;
They, when the storm their souls shall try,
Shall see Him walking nigh,
And find anon upon the heavenly shore,
Where they shall go from Him on stormy waves no more.

233

The Lady Chapel.

Blessed is the womb that bare Thee, and the paps which Thou hast sucked. Yea, rather, blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it. St. Luke xi. 27, 28.

THE SONG OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN,

[OR THE MAGNIFICAT.]

Methought I saw 'tween walls of deep decay,
Where thro' a mould'ring portal look'd the moon,
A solitary Vestal kneel and pray,
Within that aged temple all alone,
With adoration still and pensive grown;
Thus in a tottering world, to ruin borne,
The Church doth trim her lamp, and wait the morn.
Tho' worn with watching, and with sadness clad,
Yet, oft as break the joyous stars on high,
She with that Virgin-Mother's song is glad,
“Tho' poor am I, Thee will I magnify;
Tho' no sublunar joy, nor hope have I,
Nor pillow of repose, nor worldly choice,
Yet I in God my Saviour will rejoice.”

234

She has no voice; but in that Virgin's song
Divinely meditates her holier praise,
Till her aisl'd courts bear the deep notes along
To latest time; each evening stirs the blaze,
Filling her temple with the kindling rays,
And wakes the odorous store, till, far and nigh,
The house is fragrant with her piety.
Holiest of women! whom the Heav'nly King
Chose for Himself, in earthly shrine inurn'd;
Happiest of women! for in thee the spring
Of all our woes back to its fount was turn'd;
Most honor'd,—cloud wherein light's centre burn'd;—
But then dishonor'd most, when thou art seen
An idol, God and man to stand between.
Alas! man's heart, in sinful consciousness,
Some fond and frail illusion still will frame,
Which to the house of health may find access
Without repentance, or a sinner's shame:
There is One only all-prevailing Name,
But unto Him none but the pure can look,
None but the penitent His presence brook.

235

Blessed was she on whose retirement broke
That Angel form, the star portending morn;
And blessed she, upon whose bosom woke,
And slept, the Eternal Child, the Virgin-born,
Who like a robe the Heav'n of Heav'ns had worn;
But oh, more blessed, Lord, by Thy dear Name,
Is he who hears Thy word, and keeps the same.
For not in thee, thou maiden-mother mild,
As superstition deem'd, 'tis not in thee
That we rejoice, meek mother undefil'd,
But in our God alone both thou and we:
For thou wast compass'd with humanity,
And Christ alone thy light, thy strength, thy tower,
Thine innocence, thy victory, thy dower.
Nor at thy feet adore we, tho' so bright
Upon thy head the gleams of ages pour;
But with that Church rejoice, whose orient light
Shadow'd thee forth in women fam'd of yore,
With Hannah sung, and Miriam on the shore,
“The Lord Himself hath triumphed gloriously,
And thrown the horse and rider in the sea.”

236

For how can we in our own selves rejoice?
Our better hope it hath no certain stay,
Our will no stedfastness, and when our choice
Seems firmest set, pride shakes the tower of clay,
Too high for lowly-building charity;
Thou on Thy Church hast shower'd down Thy love,
And we are rich in her, and Thee above.
So in her gladness we to Heav'n draw near,
Renewing her primeval sympathies,
And for ourselves keep humble-thoughted fear;
It is the bridal of the earth and skies;
The Queen goes forth in gold embroideries,
The light around her presence flows, and we
Discern thereby our own deep poverty.
Beneath her feet a silver anchor lies,
She walks the clouds, and treads on human things,
With look conversing with the eternal skies,
And step—in act to spread her rising wings:
We seize her mantle, ere she heavenward springs,
And wait her voice,—from her no accent breaks,
Her voice is with her God, her silence speaks.

237

“On me Thy chosen treasures Thou hast pour'd,
Thy never-failing riches, long foretold
To Abraham's seed,—the riches of Thy word;
Countless as stars, many and manifold,
Glorious as they, and of Heav'n's purest gold;
Upon my head Thou settest Judah's crown,
Whose shadow lit the world, dimly foreknown.
“The princes of the world with all their state
Have ris'n to welcome me,—to Thee I flee.
The princes of the world with all their hate
Have ris'n to trample me,—I joy in Thee.
Nought need I fear but lest I should be free,
When wed to Thee,—of Thine Anointing named,—
And love the adult'rous world, of Thee ashamed.
“My children builded for me goodly piles,
And fill'd within with incense of sweet sound,
Spreading and rising to the starry Isles;
But now my riches they have all unbound,
And fain would tread my glories on the ground:
But I on Thee in my bereavement stay;—
Thou risest up, and they shall pass away.

238

“They clothe themselves with my magnificence,
But it will burn their flesh like sackcloth sore;
They, 'mid my heritage, which they dispense,
Shall ever hunger still, and ask for more.
I, in the nakedness of earthly store,
Thine everlasting goodness will put on,
And clothe me with Thy robe, as with the sun.
“While life is leading onward to the grave,
Some new desire will at each turn engage;
All pass, and leave us empty at death's cave;—
Pleasure, ambition, ease;—youth, manhood, age;—
Varying with life's advancing pilgrimage:
In Thine unchanging care I would repose,
Thine eye of watching, which doth never close.
“Nature shakes in the sun her ruffled plume,
Rising more beauteous from her wintry state,
And renovates afresh her faded bloom:
While her new forms are teeming at life's gate,
Mine no fresh spring doth at death's door await;
My mourning weeds with better hopes are clad,
And I in God my Saviour will be glad.

239

“Oh, take me 'neath the shelter of Thy wing,
And hide me,—of myself I am afraid,—
From myself hide me, from th'insidious spring
Of bold high thoughts, in ambush darkly laid
In the bad heart, as in a Stygian shade,
And leagued the spirit's peace to make their prey;
Till I the chains of life shall fling away.”

240

The Parting Voluntary.

The music dies—anon its slumbering wave
Breaks forth, and from the opening flood-gate floats
With its full tide along the echoing nave,
Summoning to new strength its dying notes,
Then sinks again,—like the last flash of light
Fitfully breaking ere the fall of night.
E'en thus on these our waning centuries,
Feeble and faint, compar'd with earlier years,
The Gospel broke, when there was seen to rise
“The second Temple and deserving tears:”
Now bursts forth the last ebbing tide,—once more
Aid our poor efforts till we gain the shore!