The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery :: :: University of Virginia Library

Saviour of spirits! if the burden'd life
Our ransom'd being into action bears,
Be ever with some wordless mystery rife
Which mocks what Adoration's lip declares,

Oh, is it not, when Truth's devoted hour
To Thine Own altar some young Levite leads,
And the high gift of Thine absolving power
Endows the Priesthood for celestial needs?

Yes, long as awed remembrance can remain
Shall I that everlasting moment feel,
When in the silence of St. Asaph-fane
Heart, soul, and conscience did these words o'ersteal,

“Receive Thou, for Thy priestly work divine,
A promised unction from the Holy One;
Anointed be thou at this hallow'd shrine,
Watchman of Zion! lo, thy work begun!

“Absolve for Christ the sin pure grace forgives,
For Him reserve what He himself retains;
Dispense the Food by which the spirit lives,
The ruling Sacrament wherein He reigns.”

And when a stillness, thrilling, rapt, profound,
Breathed from the depths of each adoring Soul,
Eternity seem'd closing all around
And shaded conscience with divine control.

With seven-fold gifts a Grace did here descend
Hearts to illumine with celestial Love,
And to each priest below some unction send
Perfumed with incense from The Priest above.

Let Faith believe, and ever hope and pray
Lord of the Temple! Thou wert nigh, to bless
Each Shepherd, vow'd to feed thy flock that day,
And fold them safe in life's vast wilderness.

To guard, premonish, and with truth provide
The Saviour's Body here on earth which roams;
Pure unto death, to preach The Crucified,
And beckon pilgrims to their sainted homes,—

Such was the Charge we messengers received,
Such the high call our stewardship obey'd;
Woe be to us! if truths were unbelieved,
Our bosom prayerless and the Church betray'd.

Thus, living Shepherd of immortal Sheep!
If to our pastoral work the soul was given,
Though for sad errors all must wail and weep,
Still, let us hope there breathed a gift from Heaven.

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Years since have roll'd, of trial, change and grief,
But still that Ordination-vow is heard;
And what can soothe us with sublime relief,
“But, “I am with you!” oh, Incarnate Word?

And, blent with awfulness of faith and fear,
For each young watchman then for Christ ordain'd
Prophetic Fancy sketch'd some quiet sphere,
Where souls for Jesu might be sought, and gain'd.

Visions, perchance, of rural cots retired
Hover'd around the priested hearts of those
Who, ne'er by sad ambition inly fired,
Haunt the lone hamlet where the poor repose.

Such was the scene our peerless Herbert loved,
Pictured in quaint and quiet Walton's lines;
Which Hooker sought, and Hammond's taste approved,
In whom the image of a Pastor shines.

Yet, little boots it, what our destined place
In the large vineyard of the Lord may be,
Weave but the spells of Thine ordaining grace,
And Time and Scene are lost, O Lord! in Thee.

Whether in haunts of fever, homes of gloom
Where squalid Woe retreats, and yearns to die,
The toil-worn pastor cheers some tatter'd room,
And calms the anguish of a mourner's sigh;

Or, haply down where greenwood-dales retire
Through hawthorn-lanes he wends his thoughtful way,
What time pale sunset gilds the village-spire,
And seeks the cottage where he comes to pray,

Wherever duty, discipline and care,
Faith, hope, and meekness grace his onward path,
A Shepherd finds his flock, and feeds them there,
And the rich promise of his Master hath.

Spirit of Light, of pastoral love and peace,
Divine Sustainer! send Thine unction now;
And teach the watchman, time gives no release
To light the burden of a priestly vow.

But bear thou up, and bear thou nobly on!
To warn the wicked and the saints to guide,
Till thou be summon'd where the dead have gone,
Who lived for Duty, and for Jesus died.