University of Virginia Library


190

CII. THE CHURCH'S PARISH MINISTERS.

Still, as I turn thy monumental page,
Loved Church, it binds affection's chords to see,
Not less in virtue, though of less degree,
Thy Worthies of the humble parsonage,
Thy Hookers, Herberts, of a simpler age:
How mid their charge, from worldly follies free,
They “ate their bread in peace and privacy,”
Rich in true wealth, in solid wisdom sage.
Hark, as in thought I trace each hallow'd ground,
Soft whispers greet me from the sainted dead:
“Stewards of Christ, and on his service bound,
To train his flock for heaven, we hither fled;
Here sought our bliss; and here through mercy found,
That bliss still harbour'd, where his service led.