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

There is a Font within whose burnish'd face
The o'er-arching pile itself reflected sleeps,
Columns, arch, roof, and all the hallow'd place,
Beauteously mirror'd in its marble deeps;
And holy Church within her vigil keeps:—
Thus round our Font on storied walls arise
Scenes that encompass Sion's holy steeps,
Rivers of God, and sweet societies,
The mountain of our rest, and Kingdom of the skies.

Uncouth as pictur'd scenes, full often found
To blend with our first childhood's sweetest thought,
Quaint tablets rang'd some antique hearth around,
Blue Holland porcelain, all rudely wrought
Yet fair in childhood's eyes, and richly fraught
With character and scene of sacred lore:
And haply from such sights hath childhood bought
Her holiest knowledge, such as evermore
Mingle with mandhood's soul, and colour wisdom's store.

Thus on the sides of our Baptismal cell
Are rang'd the varied scenes of our new birth,
And round our household hearth in vision dwell,
Weigh'd in the scale of their immortal worth;
As Angels may behold the things of earth.
They at the shapes of vice with horror start;—
While nought to man appears but noisy mirth,
They see the struggles of the silent heart,
And gates of Heaven and Hell opening to bear their part.

Thither shall Faith retire from the rude light
And sights and sounds of Day. This solemn gloom
Shall bring the starry choirs of Heaven to sight,
And shut out worldly thoughts; while in their room,
In this still twilight, silent as the tomb,
Shall come the shapes of holy Heaven, and hence
As moonlight gleams their lineaments illume,
Beckon us on with ghostly eloquence,
In shapes half hid in shade, and half reveal'd to sense.

Now fair unearthly forms obscurely gleam,
Now scenes of pilgrimage come forth to view,
And living semblances, as in a dream
Appear, and vanish, and appear anew
In varied combination, now pursue,
Now follow—some with buoyant wings, and arms
Celestial; beings whose effects we rue
Come dismally to form in stern alarms,
Lying in wait for souls, and bent on mortal harms.

Thus in the shadowy night when mortals sleep,
And things most real with unreal blend,
Heavenly with earthly, phantoms walk and weep,
Yet bear divine significance, and end
In holy truth: where'er our footsteps wend
Come forms of eloquence from earth and sky,
Pour'd on the scene the pilgrim to befriend,—
To them who travel to the realms on high,
All things are given to speak divine philosophy.

From parable, or type, or living scene,
Come forms to people this our mystic well:
And words and works of God, responsive seen
As in a twofold mirror, round us dwell,
Speaking the language of the Invisible.
When Wisdom to the soul gives ears to hear,
Nature becomes one living oracle,
Whose Sybil leaves need no interpreter
But understanding heart and Faith's obedient ear.

Hour after hour, like some melodious chime,
Creation speaks Thee; when Thou giv'st to see
And read Thy lessons; things of flying time
Range themselves in their order while they flee,
To form Thy language, and to speak of Thee.
Thou call'st them by their names, when through our night
Like stars on watch they answer, Here we be ,
And at Thy bidding give their cheerful light,
To speak unto Thy sons of things beyond the sight.

This world is but Thy mirror, fram'd to teach
Thy children of the Truth behind the veil;
Love's handmaids charm with beauty, charming preach,
And preaching hurry by, bloom but to fail;
For all material things, so passing frail,
Are but her handmaids, walking in disguise:
Upon their earthward side dark shades prevail,
But on the side beheld by Heaven-taught eyes,
There is a living light which their true Sun supplies.

The Sun whose rays below all life afford,
That lighteth all things, all things cherisheth,
Is but the shadow of the Eternal Word.
The winds and air which are our vital breath
Speak Thy good Spirit, which to lose is death:
Baptismal dowers are seen in those bright dews,
Wherewith the Sun weaves Morn's illumin'd wreath;
Showers, streams, and lakes, their fresh'ning life diffuse,
And Ocean's mighty voice proclaims the glorious news.

Creation all is new where'er we look,
All things are touch'd by an unearthly hand,
And answering to the mirror of God's book;
Trees, rivers, birds, and stars, and sea, and land,
Are but the veil of the Eternal strand;
Things are most real which we shadows deem,
In Fancy's visions Truth's stern figures stand,
Calling to Heaven, of Heavenly things their theme;
The earth in which we live appears the only dream.

On it we seem to rise as on a stair,
Reaching to Heaven, whereon the Angels pass,
Our thoughts beguiling with its visions fair,
Till from our feet, like some cloud-structur'd mass
Lit by bright rays, or fragile looking-glass,
It vanishes. Such thoughts at solemn Eve,
Like moonlight shadows o'er the waving grass,
Come o'er us, and awhile we wake to grieve,
But soon such lessons stern our fickle spirits leave.

Men scarce discern the sound,—life's footsteps fall
So downy soft, 'mid scenes of care and crime,—
But still anon, at each calm interval,
A voice is heard among the wings of time
Speaking His praise; like some old solemn chime
Flung sweetly forth from a melodious tower,
With modulating bells of sacred rhyme,
Philosophy, from that her stony bower,
Singing in sadness sweet of life's fast waning hour.

At the Church of St. Ouen, at Rouen.

Baruch iii. 34.