 | Denzil place |  |
“To know,” she said one day, as Constance paced
With this new-found companion up and down
The convent terrace (looking tow'rds the sea
And distant hills) “That sin can only live
“Outside the doors we close against the world—
“To feel that after God has lent us Life
“We give the gift He gave us back to Him—
“Devoting to such noble servitude
“The energies of body, mind, and soul—
“What greater happiness than this on earth?
“If, whilst our minds and our immortal souls
“Are fresh with all the warm enthusiasm
“Of our first years, what pious satisfaction
“If then for Him we mortify the flesh,
“And dedicate to Him each hidden thought,
“Each longing aspiration of the soul!
“And then the blessèd knowledge that our pray'rs
“May ease the punishments of purgatory,
“Earn'd and deserv'd by those departed souls
“Who sinn'd on earth, but which the gracious Lord,
“The blessèd son of Mary, condescends
“To mitigate and shorten; ponder well
“And ask that God may make you realize
“The sacred pow'r of pray'r—the bitter sin
“Of cold neglect.”
With this new-found companion up and down
The convent terrace (looking tow'rds the sea
And distant hills) “That sin can only live
“Outside the doors we close against the world—
“To feel that after God has lent us Life
“We give the gift He gave us back to Him—
“Devoting to such noble servitude
“The energies of body, mind, and soul—
“What greater happiness than this on earth?
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“Are fresh with all the warm enthusiasm
“Of our first years, what pious satisfaction
“If then for Him we mortify the flesh,
“And dedicate to Him each hidden thought,
“Each longing aspiration of the soul!
“And then the blessèd knowledge that our pray'rs
“May ease the punishments of purgatory,
“Earn'd and deserv'd by those departed souls
“Who sinn'd on earth, but which the gracious Lord,
“The blessèd son of Mary, condescends
“To mitigate and shorten; ponder well
“And ask that God may make you realize
“The sacred pow'r of pray'r—the bitter sin
“Of cold neglect.”
“Ah, these are thoughts indeed,”
Constance replied, “Would lure my heart to pray,
“Could I but learn to credit such a creed!
“Most touching is the beautiful idea
“Of intercession for the helpless dead;
“Ah, who would ever dare unclasp his hands
“Or rise from off his knees, could he but deem
“This sweet belief of your's were only true!
“But we are taught a less poetic faith,
“And this to us seems like a tender tale
“To tempt the knees to bend, and lift the hands
“Of those who would not truly pray for aught
“They could not measure, taste, or understand,
“Or else associate with sentiments
“Of earthly love and friendship, reaching on
“And thus continuing e'en after death.
“If what you think is true—is true indeed—
“I pray in time to bring my stubborn mind
“To know and feel its truth; yet, if 'tis false,
“Tho' sweet the thought of praying for the dead,
“I would not lean upon a fleeting shadow
“However fair! What can our finite minds
“Know of the dim hereafter of the soul?
“One man may dream his own belief the best,
“And force his obstinate idea of Heav'n
“Or Hell, upon the vacillating minds
“Of those who do not care to think themselves,
“And like to take religion ready-made—
“But 'tis the feeble sight of one poor worm
“Leading the others who are blinder still!
“For me, I trust; I do not think I feel
“Like some, the need that any one should pluck
“The skirts of God for me—reminding Him
“To pardon. Mercy is His attribute,
“And what seems good to Him, I know is good.
“I like to think He will be merciful,
“And that our too great self-abasement pains
“One who has made us for such noble things.
“He surely must have meant that we should work
“And seek ourselves the gifts we ask of Him—
“A troop of idle, cringing mendicants
“Must please Him less, tho' crouching at His feet,
“Than the brave man who feels responsible—
“Who fights his way and wins, and lays his crown
“Of laurels at his heav'nly Father's feet
“And gives him all the glory?
Constance replied, “Would lure my heart to pray,
“Could I but learn to credit such a creed!
“Most touching is the beautiful idea
“Of intercession for the helpless dead;
“Ah, who would ever dare unclasp his hands
“Or rise from off his knees, could he but deem
“This sweet belief of your's were only true!
“But we are taught a less poetic faith,
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“To tempt the knees to bend, and lift the hands
“Of those who would not truly pray for aught
“They could not measure, taste, or understand,
“Or else associate with sentiments
“Of earthly love and friendship, reaching on
“And thus continuing e'en after death.
“If what you think is true—is true indeed—
“I pray in time to bring my stubborn mind
“To know and feel its truth; yet, if 'tis false,
“Tho' sweet the thought of praying for the dead,
“I would not lean upon a fleeting shadow
“However fair! What can our finite minds
“Know of the dim hereafter of the soul?
“One man may dream his own belief the best,
“And force his obstinate idea of Heav'n
“Or Hell, upon the vacillating minds
“Of those who do not care to think themselves,
“And like to take religion ready-made—
“But 'tis the feeble sight of one poor worm
“Leading the others who are blinder still!
“For me, I trust; I do not think I feel
“Like some, the need that any one should pluck
“The skirts of God for me—reminding Him
145
“And what seems good to Him, I know is good.
“I like to think He will be merciful,
“And that our too great self-abasement pains
“One who has made us for such noble things.
“He surely must have meant that we should work
“And seek ourselves the gifts we ask of Him—
“A troop of idle, cringing mendicants
“Must please Him less, tho' crouching at His feet,
“Than the brave man who feels responsible—
“Who fights his way and wins, and lays his crown
“Of laurels at his heav'nly Father's feet
“And gives him all the glory?
“All the hours
“You and the Sisters pass in asking gifts
“Might surely bring you better things at last,
“Could you but go with praises in your hearts
“Out into life, and in the striving world
“Meet and subdue the Great Antagonist,
“Instead of fleeing from him! You are good,
“And I, a sinner—so forgive these words
“From my unworthy lips! I should rejoice
“To leave the weary world, and come to you
“And live in peace and pray'r amongst these hills
“And happy olive-grounds; but that, to me
“Who have so sinn'd and striven, this, the life
“You lead, would seem too passive and inert
“Tho' 'tis a life free from the bitter sting
“Of self-reproach;—forgive me for my words.”
“You and the Sisters pass in asking gifts
“Might surely bring you better things at last,
“Could you but go with praises in your hearts
“Out into life, and in the striving world
“Meet and subdue the Great Antagonist,
“Instead of fleeing from him! You are good,
“And I, a sinner—so forgive these words
“From my unworthy lips! I should rejoice
“To leave the weary world, and come to you
“And live in peace and pray'r amongst these hills
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“Who have so sinn'd and striven, this, the life
“You lead, would seem too passive and inert
“Tho' 'tis a life free from the bitter sting
“Of self-reproach;—forgive me for my words.”
| Denzil place | |