The Baptistery, or the way of eternal life :: :: University of Virginia Library

Sweet, said the Latin bard , from heights serene
To scan afar this strange tumultuous scene,
From Wisdom's temple to survey mankind
'Mid seas of error toss'd, and wandering blind,
Like barks that flounder on tempestuous seas;—
Serene philosophy, to heights of ease
Uplifted, safe from the receding wave!
Not so the Seer of Judah ; “Oh for cave,
Or lodge unseen in some vast wilderness,
Where I might screen me from this sad distress;—
Oh for some woodland chamber, from that sight
To hide me, there to weep, both day and night,
The wanderings of my people!” There drew near
One greater far than Judah's holy Seer,
He Who alone of men hath dwelt secure
In Wisdom's tower and temple, calm and pure;
He saw where Salem from the mount appears ,
And shed, as He beheld it, bitter tears.

And soon on Calvary, that other hill,
He gave us eyes wherewith on human ill

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To gaze, and thence survey from Wisdom's height
The city of mankind, and judge aright
Their wanderings and their crimes. To anguish given,
With bleeding arms outstretch'd to the dark Heaven,
As with beseeching attitude and eyes
Calling for mercy on that sacrifice,
Upborne 'mid earth and sky He cried aloud,
When the sun hid himself, and that dark cloud
Came on, as full of those Baptismal tears,
Bedewing earth till the true Sun appears.

This Moses taught on that mysterious height,
While Israel and the fierce Amalekite
Warr'd in the vale below; thence high in air,
With hands outstretch'd in long and painful prayer,
He saw the contest: as that holier strife,
And all the interchange of death and life,
In doubtful equipoise uplifted hung,
The Spirit's sword he in the balance flung.

And this is Wisdom's specular height, from whence
To view as from a watch-tower things of sense;
Not steel'd by pride or wrath to stand aloof,
Nor soften'd by their power 'gainst self-reproof;
But yet in her uplifted citadel
Safe from the seas and storms unharm'd to dwell,—
Taught a diviner lesson from the world,
Toss'd on the waves of strife, and tempest-hurl'd.
He who would rise upon that storied tower
Of Wisdom, there shall learn the hallow'd power
Of Pity, such as Angels feel, as now
They look upon this struggling scene below,

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And know such tears as Angels weep; in fear
And penitential sorrow drawing near,
He sees the dreadful tokens of His rod,
And e'en in their bereavement owns his God.

For this the outer world but gives to scan
The hideous picture of the hidden man,
And all the thoughts which in the breast find place
When left unhallow'd by God's healing grace,—
Divine illumination dwelling there
In the outpourings of unceasing Prayer,
Which drinks its sorrows from the Crucified,
And hides itself within His healing side,
Or bears about His dying. Thither bent
From Cross to Cross up the steep rough ascent
Prayer leads to Calvary: there man may own
Himself and His dread Maker; there alone
May view unharm'd the universal strife,
From Calvary with bones and carnage rife,
And 'mid the place of dying cling to life.

Where'er on either side Faith lifts her eye,
Judgments of God are present; all things cry
Broad is the way to ruin; on each side
Destruction opes her mouth unsatisfied.
What are these records of eternal woe,
Scatter'd o'er all the road, where'er we go,
In manifold aboundings of all crime?
Mark but those chroniclers of passing time,
The daily-teeming records. Round the soul
Like poisonous exhalations they unroll;
First creep insidious on and court the ground,
Like mists from lakes of hell; then hang profound
In gathering clouds, and hide Heaven's genial eye,
With hate of God and man, and blasphemy,

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Dark prelude signs, that speak of thunder nigh!
With such the very air is full imbued,
The breathing of the mighty multitude.
First 'mid suburban nooks and taverns rude
They lurk; then higher rise, in smoother phrase
Hiding the nameless slanderer, and soft ways
Of irreligion; o'er the Church they wreathe,
Till her faint pulse is scarcely found to breathe;
While sick at heart and feeble at the tomb
She sits, unable to disperse the gloom;
Where the Egyptian darkness long hath striven
To muffle up, and blend the light of Heaven
With false philosophy. Yea, most of all,
I grieve her cramp'd, confin'd, and laid in thrall,—
An exile sad in Desolation's hall.
Is this the Witness with her lesser light
Set on the holy mount to rule the night?
Is't thus the house of Levi she refines,
Kneeling in penitence 'mid holy shrines?
Nay, e'en her sons, by impress stamp'd divine
Quake at the ghost of ancient Discipline,
Lest it should rise, like Banquo, arm'd with right,
And push them from their stools. Hence without fear
The drunkard, slanderer, and adulterer,
Impenitent—of crimes each varied kind,—
Die in her bosom, are by her consign'd
To sacred earth, pronouncing o'er them hopes
Of joyful Resurrection; while she opes
Her altars unto all, the mingled crowd
Of Vice and Fashion,—all alike allowed;
No golden keys, no sacred Discipline
To hinder, or preserve the hallow'd shrine.

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Meanwhile to the admir'd admiring crowd
The platform and the pulpit ring aloud
With popular ignorance, to feed the ear
Of feverish partizans; no godly fear,
No awful modesties of reverend care;
Be sure, where fear is not, God is not there.

Thence ask, and answer next, from whence proceeds
This overflowing of the various Creeds;—
Discord is hell's first-born, and liberty
The cloak she wears abroad. Then answer, why
These late-born novelties? Blame not the poor,
Who long have flock'd around the Church's door,
Finding no entrance, and return no more.
No, for Christ's little ones doth Pity bleed,
For His lost flock that wander without heed,
From the true fold; how could they else, when none,
Was found to guide them, or their wanderings own?
No, no, Church-teachers ye from age to age,
Ye State-disposers of God's heritage,
Of you will God require it; ye still found
Dragging the Church at your State-chariot bound,
The engine of your politics; who wed,
Mezentius-like, the living with the dead,
The Church with the bad world, with brow and hand
Leprous with sacrilege. And now ye stand
Affrighted, while approaching terrors cast
Their shadowy forms before; and on the past
Ye look and tremble; yet reject with scorn
Those who could call you for your sins to mourn,
In fast and sackcloth: wise in your own eyes,
The pearl that they would bear ye cannot prize,

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And therefore turn and rend them. Nor can ye,
Towers of the Church, or nurture-breasts, stand free,
Oxford and Cambridge, while still luxury
Battens within your courts. Ye holy shades,
(Much lov'd, much long'd for, dear ancestral glades!)
Still in your breast the Pharisaic leaven,
Yea, e'en Socinian leprosies have striven,
Subtle infection! chiefly in high place,
Where they look out for Favour's ampler space;
On the World's Gorgon face their eyes are thrown,
Till gazing they are harden'd into stone.
Blame not the poor; where could they find a home,
Cushion'd and elbow'd out? there is no room
For raggedness; wealth must have ample space
To sit at ease in God's own holy place.
Blame not the poor; where could they find around
An Apostolic Pastor, hear the sound
Of Creeds, and holy Church, and discipline,
From those for earthly things who yield divine?
But they whose rights beneath their feet are trod
Shall meet them at the Judgment-seat of God.

No: 'tis the drooping Church, o'er which the State,
Superincumbent with unfriendly weight,
Hangs, stretches wide through all her breadth and length,
And from each branch and tendril drinks strength,
Embracing, intertwining, overlaid,
Till canker'd are its leaves, its very shade

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No refuge; while to cherish or alarm,
Powerless her voice and wither'd is her arm.
Hence while her sons vie with the admiring Age,
With carriage, groom, and envied equipage,
The Exchanger's Seat is rais'd within her walls,
And there, all heedless of the Church's calls,
In haste the ancient landmarks to remove
They sell Christ's lambs, barter His hallow'd Dove;
Her buyers and her sellers flock around.
Chambers of imagery in her abound,
Filling her courts with idols manifold.
What saw within the Seer's astonish'd eyes?
Between the porch and altar, in the guise
Of Priesthood, worship they the rising sun!
What, is it nothing that the course they run
Is taught, conniv'd at, prais'd, held up as right
And mirror of perfection, in God's sight
Unblameable,—to scale the hallow'd wall,
And climb by secular arts into the fold,
Striving a worldly eminence to hold
From worldly hands,—for Heathen lore alone,
Or courtly phrase, or eloquence made known,
Or popular tone, or Senatorial wit,
As meet to shine in parliaments, and sit
Bent to take part in controversial heat
Of factions, thronging at their leader's feet?
Yea, for e'en ends and services far worse
On generations they entail the curse.
Shall these pass o'er us like a summer cloud,
And not be heard in thunder, crying loud
When God shall visit? Yea, the cries e'en now
Rise from the place of unavailing woe,

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From thousands passing onward to the tomb,
No warrant given of an eternal home.

O happy ye by prayer made spirit-poor,
And thus in meekness led to Christ the Door,
To whom the Porter openeth, Ever-blest ,
Pointing to paths of life and endless rest,
Bearing the Light; who 'scape the world's dark thrall,
Give all for Him and find Him all in all.
Meet champions with their lives the faith to shield;
To such meek souls are mysteries reveal'd,
Wisdom and truth to them are manifest,
Urim and Thummim on the Church's breast.

No need of saints of silken mould, or reed
Shook by the wind of popular voice; no need
Of such as strive for envied eminence
To sit with nobles; girded with that fence
Among their holier brethren, at the nod
Of multitudes to measure truths of God;
While e'en the very shepherds of the fold
Follow their flock, not guide them, as of old.

God's Church hath in their ample bosom space
Broad, deep, and large, but yet the larger place
Each for himself; and therefore when the shame
Of their great Master's Cross and evil name
Pursue, each stands aloof, so to sustain
His spotless reputation; lest the stain
Of ignominious Truth should spoil the bright
Career of good before him, and the light
Of his high-tower'd example, which doth pant
The ensign of the conquering Cross to plant

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In palaces with his own burnish'd fame,
To bear the Cross, avoid the pain and shame.

Thus up ascending and descending down,
From crown to feet, from feet unto the crown,
Unsoundness reigns; the watchmen from their sleep
Awaken, lift their heads, and see their sheep
'Mid other folds and pastors not their own,
The hedge laid low, the vineyard overthrown.
No wonder, for through slumbering centuries,
And thrust aside by rising luxuries
From their paternal shrines, and all they priz'd,
They stray, untaught, unheeded, unbaptiz'd.
How shall they struggle from the deep turmoil
While unbaptizèd efforts vainly toil?
Meanwhile our great ones rise in pamper'd pride
By sweat and toil of millions, who have died
Church-less and pastor-less. They by their blood
Have fill'd ungodly mansions with the brood
Of wealth-born greatness; wave on wave they pass,
Corrupting and corrupted, till the mass
Heaves with a living death; thence to o'erflow
In popular assemblages, which now
Sit in the Regal seat, and bend their bow
Against what ancient wisdom priz'd so high;
Little of soul; for unjust policy
And arms unjust known far and wide, 'mid cries
Of distant Heathendom; which lifts her eyes
And scarèd head from her long-mouldering tomb,
And cries aloud, “Lo, this is Christendom!”
The Christian nation before China stands,
Offering the choice with full o'erflowing hands,—

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The intoxicating bane, or else the sword,
The death of soul or body;—then God's Word
Feebly holds forth, the Christian's heritage.
What is the righteous war these Christians wage?
Go ask of India! with her bleeding brow
Affghanistan shall answer. What if now
The spectre sits of old Idolatry,
Numbering her idols; from the dismal glee
Of sacrificial fumes, where fiends delight,
She looks to England and points out the sight;
For these are but the shadows of her chains,
It is in Christendom she truly reigns;
In souls of Christians are her towers of might,
Her idols, sacrifice, and twofold night;
Rapine and avarice mark the secret den
Wherein she lurks unseen, in hearts of men,
Which once were hallow'd by Baptismal grace
To be on earth God's chosen resting-place.
Australia too, thick sown with all thy weeds,—
Columbia, swarming with her thousand creeds,
Shall rise against thee. This the Church that feeds
Her children, from her fostering bosom torn,
Casting them forth unheeded and forlorn!
Is this the Apostolic Church that stands
The purer witness to all subject-lands
Against aggressive Rome? Is this the one
That strives again for long-lost union,
That pleads in sackcloth to the Church's Lord
To be again in penitence restor'd
To that one Body, to which shall be given
The promises of earth and crown of Heaven?

That fabled Jew that wanders desolate
Until the day of doom, knocks at the gate

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Of towering empires, and from Judah's tomb
His spectral finger lifts which speaks of doom.
Ill-boding Israel, fated still to roam
Till the world's evening! where he finds a home,
He reads his people's story, and from theirs
Rings out the fate of nations in their ears,
When they have cast off God, His Church defied,
The Stone which men refuse shall crush their pride.

Such the developments of these our times!
Is there no hiding from these public crimes?
No place of refuge, no meek brotherhood,
Where we may flee from the abounding flood
That beareth onward to eternal death,—
Where souls a less contagious air may breathe,—
Wherein the penitent may find a home,
And in the refuge of the cloistral gloom
Weep for himself and others? No, oh no,
Such witnesses have vanish'd long ago;
The cruel-handed State with none to save,
Crush'd them long since, and buried in the grave
Of worldly hate and ignominious scorn.
The desolated Church did feebly mourn,
“What all—all gone?” “Yes, all that could be found,”—
All, all her little ones laid with the ground
“At one fell swoop”—“Heaven did look on
And would not take their part .” Not one, not one,
Remaining,—as a witness of the wrong,
While centuries unheeding roll along.

But worse than all I deem, that wheresoe'er
Truth lifts her holy head, and claims the ear,

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In shrines or senates or in learned shades,
In city, or in rural haunts and glades,
Something of hidden power doth move around,
In triple league confederate ever found,
Herodian, Scribe, and Sadducee, combin'd;
Such hate their mutual enmities hath twin'd
In some mysterious union, bent on ill.
But more than conqueror Faith's dauntless will,
True to herself, when seeming most oppress'd
Shall scatter them; their grave become the nest
Of stronger hopes renew'd, which shall prevail
Then most, when most of all they seem to fail.
E'en while we speak, upon the multitude
Heaven's influence may come down, like winds that brood
Upon the waters, and a thousand breasts
Heave, and uplift afar their foaming crests
Numberless, towards the shore careering fast
Tumultuous, till the barrier is o'erpast.

Our Church, though nigh o'erwhelm'd, may cast aside
The incrustations of this worldly pride,
As Wisdom's emblem, the enamell'd snake,
Throws off its former self on thorny brake,
And comes forth bright and glistening with fresh youth,
In the new year and morning Sun of truth.
Sure not for nought, still loving though unlov'd,
God hath His presence shewn e'en now, and mov'd
The hearts of holy men in shades retir'd,
Arm'd them with wisdom, with devotion fir'd,
To seek the ancient paths, bent to explore
Her wounds, and her lost discipline restore;

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And on them set marks of His heritage,—
The hate confederate of an evil age.

Thus have I known a shrub strive to reveal
Its feeble life in vain; till pruner's steel
Cut sheer, and laid it low beneath the ground,
That many deem'd it dead, no longer found;
Then from the stock the living bud is seen,
Teeming with embryo life; then leaflet green
Replete with tenfold strength, and branch and flower,
Exuberant from the grave, far-spreading power
Of Resurrection, stands a living bower.
Thus from the grave of Laud and Strafford's fate
Springs forth the living Faith: by wintry state
Renew'd to stronger life. And they who now
Are leagued against God's truth in fiercest show
Shall wither,—wait thou but another day,
Seek for their place and they shall be away.
But God shall shield the meek, and bid appear
His righteousness, as cloudless noon-day clear.

Such are the implements of crime and woe
Strewn thick along our path, where'er we go;
Nor less in the close circle where we dwell,
In our own quiet homes, the citadel
Of deep heart-hid affections, round our bed
Sorrows and sins in darkness lift their head,—
People our waking thoughts—make themselves known
In slumber,—sins of others, and our own.
Yea, with ourselves the heart ends and begins,
And cowers at mention of our public sins.

Such is the world of sorrows here below,
Which o'er us more and more their shadows throw,

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An ever-during mantle which will cling
Around, and stifle life, nor can we fling,
But with this fleshly weight of life, aside,—
Sorrows or sins which with us must abide;
For if they are not sorrows they become
Our fond allurements, and our bitter doom.
From all, O Lord, unto Thy Cross we flee,
And there forget ourselves, remember Thee.

Lucret., lib. ii. 1–16.

Jer. ix. 1.

St. Luke xix. 41.

Augustin. In Joan. Tract. xlvi. 4.

Macbeth, Act iv. Scene 3.