The Cathedral, or the Catholic and Apostolic Church in England ::

I. Varieties in Nature combined with identity. II. The same to be observed in the Lord's Prayer. III. A paraphrase of it in the Baptismal Service. IV. In the daily Prayers.V. In the Litany. VI. In the Ante-Communion. VII. In the Post-Communion Service. VIII. In the Marriage Service. IX. In the Burial Service. X. Its soundness and mysterious depth. XI. Its divine origin, and the future hopes contained therein. XII. Its effect in private devotion in the different ages of life. XIII. The Conclusion.

In the midst of the street, and on either side of the river was there the Tree of Life— And the leaves of the Tree were for the healing of the nations. Rev. xxii. 2.

THE LORD'S PRAYER.

Oh, that I knew how all thy lights combine,
And the configurations of their glory! [OMITTED]
Such are thy secrets; which my life makes good,
And comments on thee. For in every thing
Thy words do find me out.
Herbert.

I.

The Moon upon her silver height
Seems varying with the varying night;
Still varying seems, though still the same,
Since out of Evening's door she came;

To lead some traveller journeying on,
Her cheering mantle o'er him thrown.
First issues forth with burnish'd crest
Looking upon the golden west,—
A knight in virgin armour drest,
Pledging herself companion sure
Thro' hours of darkness to endure:
Then seems descended from her tower
To kindle up some wintry bower;
And turns the leafless branches bright
Into an hermitage of light,
Or temple strange of living gold
With gothic traceries manifold.
Then silently breaks forth to view,
Walking alone the sea of blue;
Anon with rising clouds contending,
And with their gloom her glory blending;
They gather 'neath her steps of brightness,
A pedestal of glowing whiteness.
Thus leads thro' night, then melts away
Into the sunshine of the day.
With brow unchang'd the while she dwells,
In Heav'n's serener citadels,
But seems with us as here we range
To thread the path of interchange.

Who live beside the solemn Sea,
And love his simple majesty,
Still ever new, in alter'd mien,
His untransformed shape have seen.
Now as they sit his margin nigh,
He lifts his hands, and voice on high,
No thought can trace his hidden treasure,
His beauty, strength, or vastness measure.
Now while they other scenes pursue,
The hills between, in arching blue,
He gathers in his silver length
All darkly to a bow of strength.—
Now man's meek friend, upon his breast
He bears him hous'd in sea-born nest.—
How God's unsullied temple fair,
For man hath left no traces there.—
Now aye unchang'd, yet ever changing,
To caves unfathom'd boundless ranging;—
Now seems to lay his vastness by
To minister to thought and eye.

A faithful Friend, best boon of Heav'n,
Unto some favour'd mortal given,
Tho' still the same, yet varying still,
Our each successive want to fill,
Beneath life's ever fitful hue
To us he bears an aspect new.

Round childhood's path a happy charm,
In age a tried supporting arm;
A chastening drop in cup of gladness,
A light to paint the mists of sadness;
To cheer, to chide, to teach, to learn,
Sad or severe, serene or stern.
Whatever form His Presence wears,
That Presence every form endears.
Till Faith descries in that dear love
The messenger from one above,
Faint emblem of a better Friend,
Who walks with us till life shall end.

II.

E'en such in its simplicity
Containing things for man too high,
The holy Prayer which Jesus taught!
A well too deep for mortal thought,
But where his want may ever turn,
And draw with ever welcome urn.
On childhood's dawn it doth unfold
Its treasures, and when life is old
Unfolding still yet all untold.
Ever transform'd to meet our needs,
Oft as Devotion counts her beads,

As if those beads had caught the light,
In her celestial girdle bright,
But each with its own colours dight.
Thus whensoe'er that Prayer is heard,
Fresh thoughts are in each solemn word;
An orb of light, come from the skies,
To kindle holy Liturgies;
It gathers and gives back their rays,
Now turn'd to prayer, and now to praise.

Thus is Thy word, unearthly wise,
A fire that lights each sacrifice;
'Tis that which, in Thine earthly shrine,
Clothes our desires with form divine,
To enter so more worthily
The place of Thy dread Majesty.
Upon that incense doth arise
An holy Angel to the skies,
And there, all cloth'd with other wings,
'Neath th'Intercessor's feet it springs.
Yea, could we see within that cloud
Of incense, from its earthly shroud
Its glorious fulness evermore
Unfolding to the heavenly door,
We there, reveal'd to mortal eye,
Should Angels, on glad ministry,
Ascending and descending see.

III. In the Baptismal Service.

First on Baptismal waters bright
It seems to move, a face of light,
And when around we kneel and pray,
The holy accents seem to say,

“Our Father, freed from error's chain,
May we Thy children be,
At this blest fountain born again
To filial liberty.

All things are changing, Thou the same,
Thou art our heavenly home;
Be hallowed here our Father's Name,
Until His kingdom come.

Lo, to Thy kingdom here below
We little children bring,
For to that kingdom such we know
The meetest offering.

That they in Thee may here put on
Thy kingdom's panoply,
And in the path of duty run,
Like children of the sky.

Oft as breaks out their mother's stain,
While they advance to Heav'n,
Children in love may they remain,
Forgiving and forgiv'n.

Let nought allure them from Thy word,
Or tempt their spirits frail,
But should they fall, yet, blessed Lord,
Let evil not prevail.

But when our Childhood's morn was ending,
And we 'neath holy hands were bending,
Beside that altar's witness stone
That prayer had caught an altered tone.
The cheek with shame and hope was burning,
To a lost Father's house returning;
It seem'd to chide, and yet to cheer,
And to that blending hope and fear
It brought our endless birthright near,
And from the rude world seem'd to sever,
Binding us to that shrine for ever.

IV. In the Daily Service.

At morn or eve when worldly Care
Would seek to breathe the calmer air
Of Thy pure temple; Peace is there,
But not for her. At mercy gate
Repentance stands, made wise too late,
Half lifts the latch, as one in guise
To enter, but with tearful eyes
Sees her lost heritage and sighs.
But watching for returning grief,
The great Absolver with relief
Stands by the door, and bears the key
O'er Penitence on bended knee:
Then blending accents, sweet to save,
Come like the gale on sullen wave,
When Day is at his western cave.

“Our Father, who dost dwell above,
May we find rest in Thy dear love,
And sanctify in heart Thy name;
Where else shall sinner hide his shame,

When rising and departing Sun
But numbers duties left undone,
And nearer brings th'Eternal throne!

May we, advancing that to meet,
Feel daily more beneath our feet,
The better strength which doth the will,
And seeth Thee, and so is still:
And borne on Thy sustaining arm,
Which daily feeds, and keeps from harm,
The wrath of man by love disarm.

The sole assurance that we live,
Is that we others thus forgive;
And day and night, where shall we flee
The wily Tempter, but to Thee?
Dim shadows range this earthy cell,
The Kingdom and the Glory dwell
With Thee, alone unchangeable.”

V. In the Litany.

Who long in light of prayer abide,
As in the Sun's bright gushing tide,

100

Find hidden stains break forth within,
Like spots upon the leopard's skin.
Now spreading thro' the ample shrine,
Prayer sounds the seas of Love divine,
And now the deeps of crime and woe
Thro' changeful scenes of Life below.
Now Fear doth wake and onward press,
Girding her loins with lowliness,
Till seeing Thee she sinks from high,
In thoughts of her deep poverty;
And with poor Bartimæus blind
Seeks in the dark Thy presence kind;
Now with thine accents, deep and clear,
She holds Thy mantle in calm fear.

“Like as a Father his own children loves,
So unto those that fear Thee Thou art kind,
For Thine own glorious Name,
Turn from us our deserts!

So may Thy Kingdom come, on whose blest shore
These hosts of woe and crime shall war no more,
But East and West be set
Our sins and us between.

101

Strengthen, and comfort, raise us, and support,
So may Thy will be done, as 'tis in Heav'n:
And dews of blessing fall
On the fruit bearing earth!

By all Thy works that we might be forgiven,
Thy Love, Thy Prayer, Thy Baptism, and Thy Grave,
From envy and from hate,
Deliver us, Good Lord.

Deliver us from the dark Tempter's wiles,
In Sorrow's hour and in the hour of wealth,
So 'neath our feet at last
The Serpent may be laid.”

'Tis thus, by all Thy mercies old,
By all our fathers have us told,
Thus by Thy love are we made bold.

VI. In the Ante-Communion.

But when, the white-rob'd Altar nigh,
The chain was let down from on high,
Which from His Cross unto His throne
Doth bind His children all in one,
As heavy-laden souls draw near
To hear dread Sinai's voice of fear,

102

Responsively to our deep wound,
That Prayer assumes another sound.

“Out of a world of grief and wrong,
Where we have wandered all too long,
To Thee our Father we return,
Do Thou not spurn!

Thou art in Heav'n, and we on earth,
Then weigh us not by our own worth,
May we henceforth in reverend awe
So keep Thy law,

That we may hallow Thy Great Name!
Lay on our lips Thine altar flame,
And that from Thee no more we roam,
Thy Kingdom come.

For only they, who do Thy will,
Shall thine Eternal Kingdom fill,
Then may we throughout this our night
Walk in Thy Light!

Thou art our Father, only Good,
Wilt Thou not give us that blest food?
We on Thine altar for thine aid
Ourselves have laid,

103

Unworthy—yet in deed or thought,
If our own brother hath done aught,
As we on Thy forgiveness live,
So we forgive.

Around us are the shafts of ill,
O hide us in Thy holy hill,
That we in th'evil day may stand,
Holding Thy hand!”

The cloud hath past, which hung thereon,
And Moses and Elias gone,
And Thou art standing by alone.

VII. In the Post-Communion.

And now the fount of Love o'erflows,
And the worn spirit finds repose;
Lord, at Thy feet in thrilling fear
Lifts up her eye, and wipes the tear,
And with Thy Prayer again draws near.

“Our Father, knit in Thy dear Son,
In celestial union,

104

Thy Name we hallow, and adore,
Praising Thee for evermore.
And hasten till Thy kingdom come,
Which is our eternal home.
May we till that blest palm be won,
On the path of duty run.
With Angels and Archangels high,
And the heav'nly company,
Singing of Thine immortal love,
As thine Angels sing above.
O daily from th'angelic hall,
This life-giving food let fall,
And knit us in the holy tie
Of ne'er-failing charity.
That from Thine own parental sway,
Nought may lead our feet astray,
Ever attun'd in heart to sing
Thee our everlasting King,
Whose Glory is our home on high,
And His name best Panoply.”

Thus when Thy love hath made us strong,
That Prayer becomes the pilgrim's song.

105

VIII. In the Marriage Service.

But lo, a small and silent train
Is gather'd 'neath the pictur'd pane,
Where ancient saints in light profound,
Stand, like stern witnesses, around;
Whose rainbow hues now play below
Fitfully on the vest of snow:
'Tis bridal Love that doth repair
To light her holy torch-light there.
Varied as Morning's eastern door,
That Prayer hath other thoughts in store:
As on some dove's soft mantling breast
When vernal lights or shadows rest,
There come forth interchangeably
An emerald, gold, or silver dye,
Which 'neath the secret color lie.

“O Thou, of whom all families,
In Earth and Heaven are named, may that Name,
Which all our wills and wishes sanctifies,

106

Be hallowed in each household; may the flame
From off thine Altar light the peaceful hearth,
And patriarchal blessings crown the same.

A type of Thy true Kingdom here on earth,
An household, over which Thy holy Dove
Broods, nurturing below to heav'n-taught worth,

Angelic order, and harmonious love.
The ministering elements in Thy hand lie,
Open for them Thy store-houses above:

Their spirits clothe with the meek poverty
Of the true Bridegroom, His law to fulfil
In mutual forbearing charity.

Stand Thou about them night and day, that ill
May not approach their dwelling, nor sin's bane
Tempt forth, then blast with death the wandering will.

So rise they on that bridal morn again,
Where all as Angels Thy great Kingdom fill,
And in thine everlasting glory reign!”

107

IX. In the Burial Service.

But lo, where by yon gleaming tower
The Sun sinks to his western bower,
As weeping mourners stand around,
Like Evening dews there falls a sound
On hearts by sorrow withered,—
The words of Him who woke the dead.

“O Father of the fatherless, to Thee
We turn, sole Comforter, and seek release,
When shall Thy better Kingdom come—and we
Be gather'd 'neath Thy feet, and be at peace?

Thou giv'st and tak'st away, Thy Name be blest!
Fain would we have that Cup to pass away,
But may Thy will be done; our only rest
To know that Thou art good, and to obey.

Thy will be done on Earth, as 'tis in Heav'n,
Give us enough each day to bear us on,
'Tis not our home, and as we have forgiv'n,
Forgive us ere we die for Thy dear Son.

108

Look on us, for, like leaves, we haste away,
And are not; to Thy mercy let us cling:
Till we have pass'd this world of evil sway,
Hide us beneath the shadow of Thy wing.

X.

Thus hallow'd in Thy house of Prayer
Each change, else leading to despair,
Doth, like a pillar, heavenward rise,
On which are built our destinies.

I thank Thee, oft as we are there
And stand upon the heavenly stair,
Thy words the key note still return,
Lest all too bold our fancies burn.

As “Holiness” on Aaron's head
Which o'er his purple garments shed
That felt but untold sanctity
Of him who bears the Priestly key,
O'ershadowing with awe profound
Unto his tuneful skirts around.

Or as on Aaron's holier breast
The glorious constellations rest,
Enfolding “Light and Truth” from high,
The voice of God in mystery.

109

Thus o'er each worship here below,
A light divine that Prayer doth throw.

If 'neath the Church's parent shade
'Tis thus transform'd to meet our aid,
How shall it not abide the proof
For every want 'neath mortal roof?
O thought too high for mortal sense
The lowliness, the confidence,
Reposing love, retiring fear,
Unspeakably combining there!
Within the wayside leaf, or flower,
Is hid a temple of strange dower,
Of order fair a very world
Beneath a vein'd envelope curl'd,
All wondrous hid in viewless bars,
Like a blue night of silver stars.
'Tis thus where'er Thy hand hath been,
Tho' oft by none but Angels seen:
And here, conceal'd from careless eyes,
In sheltering veils there folded lies,
Within that heav'n-made prayer enroll'd,
Simplicity most manifold!

Forms which surround Truth's secret throne,
By varied name to mortals known,
Are here united all in one;

110

The Eight that hold the heavenly door
Beatitudes of Gospel lore;
The number'd Graces which all lie
In bosom of true Charity;
The Fruits which round the branches twine,
And gather o'er the mystic Vine.
Like fairest shapes, unchang'd above,

Yet altering their mien and air,
Throw varying shadows as they move

O'er sunny earth and waters fair.
Within this Prayer come from on high,
Their embryo forms in secret lie,—
Here are the roots which all supply.
Like that dread image from the skies,
Before and after having eyes:—
Or like a cloud, with lustre sown,
Where stars of the celestial zone
Blend in a bright communion.

O hidden wisdom, ever nigh,
Then let me school mine ear and eye
To unwind all thine harmony.
'Tis ever thus in holy things,
The more we seek the sacred springs,

111

More fresh and deep their bounty flows,
More calm beneath the skies repose.
Oft'ner we turn, more love we learn,
And loving more, more thither turn.
For Prayer doth feeble Faith repair,
And Faith repair'd doth kindle Prayer;
Like Angel forms on either hand,
They hold the Pilgrim thro' life's strand,
From strength to strength both leading on
In holy wondrous union.
Thus lifting up our thoughts on high,
We nearer bring the starry sky,—
E'en thus for ever newly born
Advance we into Heav'nly morn.

Blest words come from the holiest shrine,
Ye that on Jesus' lips divine,
Ye that with saints from age to age
Have been throughout their pilgrimage!
In triumph and in agony
Ye went between them and the sky,—
A road where aiding Angels came;
May we in you partake their flame,
Bond of strange union when we kneel,
Think as they thought, and with them feel,
With saints on earth and saints on high,
Bound in mysterious sympathy!

112

By day and night there may we flee,
As to a sheltering sanctuary,
The refuge of a Father's name
Which only doth abide the same.

Thro' life, as change and chance succeed,
That Prayer to Heav'n doth bear our need,
And with Thine inspiration warm
Turns our dead thoughts to living form:
As when goes forth thy quickening breath,
Kindling the wrecks and dust of Death,
Into the shapes of varied Life,
Trees, flowers, and streams, all beauty rife,—
Man, beast, and bird, one kindred strife,—
Earth, Sea, and Sky, uniting raise
A living temple to Thy praise.

Thus have our earthly wishes turn'd
To wings that have with glory burn'd,
Fann'd into pure serene desires,
They clothe them with celestial fires,
Borne on the breath of our own Lord,
And instinct with the living Word.
But unto what shall we compare
The boundless hopes embosom'd there?

How beauteous here the Moon at night
Walks forth amid her hosts of light;

113

And Evening looks, a pilgrim sage,
Out of his western hermitage;
And Earth and Sea, whose voices rise
In solemn and dread harmonies;
Then what shall be the spirit's home,
When Thy true Kingdom shall have come?

If in the flower such beauty lies,
Which blooms at morn, at evening dies,
And in each form of life around
Mysterious wisdom hides profound;
What shall our heav'nly bodies be
When cloth'd with immortality?

If in Thy guiding hand above
The glorious hosts are seen to move,
And all creation here below
Thy daily ordering seems to know;
How much more Thine unseen controul
Must be around the human soul,
Prepar'd, beyond the starry skies,
To put on endless destinies!

XI.

I said, as change and chance succeed,
That Prayer doth Heav'n-ward bear our need,—
When in this temple, greenly dight,
And arch'd o'er with its roof of light,

114

Our childhood woke to earth's unrest,
That Prayer came like an Angel guest,
And in that pensive silent cell,
Which heart of childhood knoweth well,
It led our thoughts by gentle mien
To dwell around a friend unseen;
And turn'd from earth the wondering eyes
Unto a happier Paradise.

When we were grown to riper years,
Woo'd by a world of hopes and fears,
Each morn and evening it would come,
And lighting up the silent room
Would oft forgotten still intrude
On evening's holier solitude,
A gentle witness standing nigh
Of things that should not be put by.

More and more to our manlier sense
Faith's treasur'd stores it doth dispense,
A key that opes omnipotence:
It can the mountains set afar,
Which our obedience seem to bar.
But if not made in love our own
It is a witness of stern tone;
Or seems with parting wings to go,
And leave us to the world below.

115

When age hath come, ere we depart,
That Witness takes the Judge's part,—
The Judge's part, which serves to prove
Thoughts chain'd below, or train'd above,
Of character the form and measure,
Of our desires, our hope, and treasure:
Whether in converse with the sky
We strength have gain'd to walk on high;
With thoughts to our true Father led,
Content below with daily bread:
Or whether in low dreams of earth
Forgotten lies our better birth.

XII.

Thro' life, as change and chance succeed,
It thus doth vary to our need,
And to the faith-illumin'd sense
Expandeth its magnificence.
Said I, 'twas like the silver Moon,
Companion thro' night's wintry noon?
Yea, and I deem it not too bold,
Could I its treasures half unfold:
'Tis fraught with goodness all Thine own,
Whilst Thou, our Sun, from sight art gone.
Lo, earth-born cares are at its rising riven,
And wither'd hopes have caught the holier hues of Heav'n!

116

Said I 'twas like the solemn Sea,
So simple in sublimity,
Transform'd to meet each changing scene,
And glass Heav'n's face dark or serene?
Man's hand hath been on all beside,
Thy holy footsteps there abide,
Tho' all too deep for mortal pride.
In that baptismal flood serene
Still would I wash, and still be clean.

Said I, 'twas like a constant Friend,
Whom we would hold when life shall end?
Yea, it shall ever be to me
In solitude best company:
And a sweet spell when friends are nigh,
A presence felt in silence by.
Yea, while we walk with cloud and shade,
And meteor lights our path invade,
Let not a wish within me burn,
But first unto that Prayer I turn!
And, oh, may I at life's dim close
Know of that Prayer the calm repose!

University of Virginia Library

The North Aisle.