 | Lyra Apostolica (1864) |  |
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ORACLES OF TRUTH
Hail, glorious Lights, kindled at God's own urn,Salt of the nations—whence the soul imbue
Savours of Godhead, virtues pure and true,
So that all die not—whence serenely burn
In their bright Orbs sure Truth and Virtue bold,
Putting on virgin honours undefiled:
Bounteous by you the World's Deliverer mild
Of treasured wisdom deals His stores untold.
Hail! channels where the living waters flow,
Whence the Redeemer's field shows fair, and glow
The golden harvests: ye from realms above
Bring meat for manly hearts, and milk for babes in love.
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These rear th' eternal Palace Hall;
Skill'd with one hand Thine arms to wield,
With one to build Thy Wall.
Ye in your bright celestial panoply
O'ercame dark Heresy:
And when her brood from Stygian night
Renew the fight,
We too may grasp your arrows bright;
E'en till this hour we combat in your mail,
And with no doubtful end—we combat and prevail.
Hail! Heavenly truth, guiding the pen
Of wise and holy men;
To thee, though thou be voiceless, doth belong
A spirit's tongue,
Which in the heart's deep home, uttereth a song.
ζ.
119
ALWAYS, EVERYWHERE, AND BY ALL
“Quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus.”
1
Truth through the Sacred Volume hidden lies,And spreads from end to end her secret wing,
Through ritual, type, and storied mysteries.
From this or that, when Error points her sting,
From all her holds, Truth's stern defences spring,
And Text to Text the full accordance bears.
Through every page the Universal King,
From Eden's loss unto the end of years,
From East unto the West, the Son of Man appears.
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2
Thus, when she made the Church her hallowed shrine,Founded on Jesus Christ the Corner-stone,
With Prophets, and Apostles, and the Line
Of ordered Ministers, Truth ever one,
Not here or there, but in the whole hath shone.
Whilst heresies arise of varying clime
And varying form and colour, the true Sun,
One and the same through all advancing time,
The Whole His Mansion makes, vast, uniform, sublime.
3
Mark, how each. Creed stands in that Test reveal'd,Romish, and Swiss, and Lutheran novelties!
As in the light of Spenser's magic shield.
Falsehood lets fall her poisoned cup and flies,
Rome's seven-headed monster sees and dies!
New forms of Schism which changing times supply,
Behold the unwonted light in wild surprise.
In darkness bold, bright-shining arms they spy,
And down their Parent's mouth the Imps of Error hie!
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4
The Church her ample bosom may expand,Again contract,—may open far and wide
Her tent, extend her chords, on either hand
Break forth, again into herself subside;
Alike with her Faith's oracles abide,
Revered by fickle worshipper, or spurn'd.
Oft faint, ne'er lost, the Lamp by Heaven supplied,
Oft dimm'd by envious mists, ne'er undiscern'd,
God's Witness, thro' all time, hath in His temple burn'd.
5
O Holy Truth, whene'er thy voice is heard,A thousand echoes answer to the call;
Tho' oft inaudible thy gentle word,
While we regard not. Take me from the thrall
Of passionate Hopes, be thou my All in All;
So may Obedience lead me by the hand
Into thine inner shrine and secret hall.
Thence hath thy voice gone forth o'er Sea and Land,
And all that voice may hear—but none can understand,
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6
Save the Obedient. From both love and hate,Affections vile, low cares, and envy's blight,
And controversial leanings and debate,
Save me! from earthly film my mental sight
Purge thou, make my whole body full of Light!
So may my eyes from all things Truth convey,
My ears in all thy lessons read aright,
My dull heart understand, and I obey,
Following where'er the Church hath mark'd the Ancient Way.
ζ.
146
A VOICE FROM NORTH AMERICA
“When my father and my mother forsake me, the Lord taketh me up.”
Mother! and hast thou left thy child
With winds unpitying in the wild,
Stretching his feeble arms from far,
Where coldly sets the Western star;
And is thy fostering bosom dry?
With winds unpitying in the wild,
Stretching his feeble arms from far,
Where coldly sets the Western star;
And is thy fostering bosom dry?
My Child! upon me is a chain,
Mid those who have our Master slain;
And signs I see of coming war,
Tempestuously it broods afar,—
The night in silence driveth by.
Mid those who have our Master slain;
And signs I see of coming war,
Tempestuously it broods afar,—
The night in silence driveth by.
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Mother! whate'er betide thee, save
The Robe and Arms He dying gave,
That, thee to keep, a sheltering charm,—
And these thy foes, from their own arm;
O watch them wisely, warily!
The Robe and Arms He dying gave,
That, thee to keep, a sheltering charm,—
And these thy foes, from their own arm;
O watch them wisely, warily!
My child! I hold them still, but they
Would those immortal Arms essay,
And rend my sheltering Robe in twain;
But aye with me shall they remain,—
With them I live, with them I die!
Would those immortal Arms essay,
And rend my sheltering Robe in twain;
But aye with me shall they remain,—
With them I live, with them I die!
Mother! 'tis late with fear I cope,
And from my dangers gather hope:
The world grows sere, and I my bed
Have made of leaves around me shed,
Till come the Day-spring from on high.
And from my dangers gather hope:
The world grows sere, and I my bed
Have made of leaves around me shed,
Till come the Day-spring from on high.
My Child! whate'er shall me betide,
An Angel's face is at thy side;
He, who amid the Arabian wild
Did with the mother save the child,
Doth o'er thee lean, and hear thy cry.
An Angel's face is at thy side;
He, who amid the Arabian wild
Did with the mother save the child,
Doth o'er thee lean, and hear thy cry.
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Mother! some Hand, through sky, o'er sea,
Leads wandering birds protectingly,
Mid floating piles, and ocean dark;
That Hand will guide thy homeless bark,
Then leave them to their enmity.
Leads wandering birds protectingly,
Mid floating piles, and ocean dark;
That Hand will guide thy homeless bark,
Then leave them to their enmity.
My Child! shall mine forsaken be,
That I may feed thy flock with thee?
Yet know, ere they shall me bereave
Of my own Arms, yea, though I grieve,
Unto thine icy hills I fly.
That I may feed thy flock with thee?
Yet know, ere they shall me bereave
Of my own Arms, yea, though I grieve,
Unto thine icy hills I fly.
Mother! our sun hath gone to rest,
But left behind a gleaming vest;
It lies the western sky along,
And round me comes a starry throng,
From out our Father's house on high.
But left behind a gleaming vest;
It lies the western sky along,
And round me comes a starry throng,
From out our Father's house on high.
My Child! as darker grows the night,
Good Angels thus shall o'er thee light:
And Memory, true to Him that's gone,
Shall take his torch and lead thee on,
A moon unfelt, but calm and nigh.
Good Angels thus shall o'er thee light:
And Memory, true to Him that's gone,
Shall take his torch and lead thee on,
A moon unfelt, but calm and nigh.
ζ.
149
EXPOSTULATION
1.
Why is our glorious Angel seen to mourn,With earth-bent brow forlorn?
Why hangs the cold tear on his cheeks?
Ah me! his silence speaks;
It is the Spoiler's parricidal hand,
And the apostate land,
Which would herself God's candlestick displace,
And put aside her cup of grace:
Hence, darkly gleaming through the nightly grove,
Bow'd down in pitying love,
Thou hearest all alone
The short precursive moan,
When in their mountain lair th' awakening thunders move.
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2.
“Not for the Spoiler's parricidal hand,Nor the apostate land,
That I am darkly seen to mourn,
With earth-bent brow forlorn;
But that the widowed Church, in hour of pride,
Her sackcloth laid aside,
Slumbering in Canaan's camp, and wakes to mourn
Her ancient strength and glory shorn.
Where are thy weekly fasts? Thy vigils where?
Therefore each wandering air
Comes o'er thee desolate;
And ere it reach Heaven's gate,
Blows frustrate o'er the earth thy feeble-hearted prayer.”
3.
The flood-gates on me open wide,And headlong rushes in the turbulent tide
Of lust and heresies! a motley troop they come;
And old imperial Rome
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Her seven-horned head;
And Schism and Superstition, near and far,
Blend in one pestilent star,
And shake their horrid locks against the Saints to war.
4.
“Not for the flood-gates opening wide,I fear, nor for the turbulent rushing tide;
But for the Church, so loth at her mysterious board
To see her present Lord.
Therefore, around thine Altars deep,
The Angels bow and weep;
Or oh, in strength of Heaven's ennobling might,
How should we see the light!
And one a thousand chase, ten thousand turn to flight!”
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5.
Again I hear thy plaintive taleIn the autumnal gale;
But since thou passed'st through the fires,
With our old martyr Sires,
Thou seem'st as one escaped the flame,
But looking back for something left behind,—
The unshackled high resolve, the holier aim,
Single-eyed faith in loyalty resign'd,
And heart-deep prayers of earlier years.
And since that popular billow o'er thee past,
Which thine own Ken from out the vineyard cast,
Now, e'en far more
Than then of yore,
An altered mien thy holy aspect wears.
And oft thy half-averted brow
Doth seem in act to go,
With half out-spreading wings,
And foot that heavenward springs;
Therefore to thee I draw, by fear made bold,
And strive with suppliant hand thy mantle skirts to hold.
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6.
“Can they who flock to Freedom's shrine,Themselves to me resign?
There lift the Heav'n defying brow,
And here in meekness bow?
There to put on the soul aggrieved,
And attitude their high deserts to claim;
Here kneel from their deserts to be relieved,
Claim nothing but the Cross, and their own shame?
And now, behold and see
In holy place abomination stands,
Whose breath hath desolated Christian lands,
In semblance fair,
And saint-like air,
The Antichrist of heathen liberty!
E'en on Religion's hallowed ground,
He hath his altar found;
And now ere winter's net
Is o'er thy pathway set,
Haste and arise, to Judah's mountain flee,
And drink the untainted fount of pure Antiquity.”
γ.
181
WITHHOLDING OF TITHES
“But ye say, Wherein have we robbed Thee? In tithes and
offerings. Ye are cursed with a curse: for ye have robbed Me,
even this whole nation.”
Heard ye? the unerring Judge is at the door!
The curse of God is on thee, hapless Age,
Binding thy brows with deadly sacrilege;
Heaven's blight hath passed o'er thee! Talk no more:
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Your schemes with God's own whirlwind must engage,
Hand joined in hand with nature war must wage.
Your thoughts of good are toiling for a shore
Against the full Monsoon. O teeming brood
Of hollow counsels impotent to good!
O full-sailed bark! God's Curse thy bearing wind,
And Sacrilege thy freight. Strange pregnant scene,
While boldness mocks at judgment, and behind
Rises an Awful Form! May I be clean!
ζ.
242
THE NEW JERUSALEM.
“And I saw the Holy City, New Jerusalem, coming down from
God out of Heaven, prepared as a Bride adorned for her Husband.”
The Holy Jerusalem
From highest Heaven descending,
And crowned with a diadem
Of Angel bands attending,
The Living City built on high,
Bright with celestial jewelry!
From highest Heaven descending,
And crowned with a diadem
Of Angel bands attending,
The Living City built on high,
Bright with celestial jewelry!
She comes, the Bride, from Heaven gate
In nuptial new Adorning,
To meet the Immaculate,
Like coming of the morning.
Her streets of purest gold are made,
Her walls a diamond palisade.
In nuptial new Adorning,
To meet the Immaculate,
Like coming of the morning.
Her streets of purest gold are made,
Her walls a diamond palisade.
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There with pearls the gates are dight
Upon that holy mountain;
And thither come both day and night,
Who in the Living Fountain
Have washed their robes from earthly stain,
And borne below Christ's lowly chain.
Upon that holy mountain;
And thither come both day and night,
Who in the Living Fountain
Have washed their robes from earthly stain,
And borne below Christ's lowly chain.
By the hand of the Unknown
The Living Stones are moulded
To a glorious Shrine, all one,
Full soon to be unfolded;
The building wherein God doth dwell,
The Holy Church invisible.
The Living Stones are moulded
To a glorious Shrine, all one,
Full soon to be unfolded;
The building wherein God doth dwell,
The Holy Church invisible.
Glory be to God, who layed
In Heaven the foundation;
And to the Spirit who hath made
The walls of our salvation;
To Christ Himself the Corner Stone,
Be glory! to the Three in One.
In Heaven the foundation;
And to the Spirit who hath made
The walls of our salvation;
To Christ Himself the Corner Stone,
Be glory! to the Three in One.
ζ.
| Lyra Apostolica (1864) | |