Amenophis and Other Poems Sacred and Secular :: :: University of Virginia Library

O church of our fathers in England,
O Home of the living Lord,
Full fountain of Faith for ages
And witness firm to the Word!
From Alban, Augustine, and Aidan,
Paulinus and Cuthbert and Bede,
To our days, ours even, what armies
Of Christ His long triumph lead!

Saints in lowliness known to Him only;
Saints famed in their own despite;
Life-service pour'd forth for His poor ones,
Or crown'd with the martyr-light:
Of whom the world was not worthy,
Counting earth's riches as dross;
Now laid 'neath gray village spires,
And the sign of the saving Cross.

The sin-vex'd offspring of Adam,
While the centuries onward glide,
Have grown in this field of England,
The tares and the wheat beside:—

O visible fold of the Shepherd,
How oft in His sorrow survey'd,
As the myriad snares of the Tempter
Himself again have betray'd!

But the Presence unseen at the altar,
And the Fountain of heavenly birth,
And the Grace of Christ and His Spirit
Abide with His Church upon earth;
While the tall cathedral, in brightness
O'er sin-strife and turmoil below,
Lifts the sign of the great Forgiveness,
The peace which the world cannot know.

Nor for these alone hath His mercy
The gracious “Come unto Me”;
And not of this fold are others
In secrecy known to Thee!
Grace-led while unknowingly straying,
Or stumbling in sceptic gloom,
Or dazed by the glare of the Present
From the Cross and the vacant Tomb.

What then if in ignorant anger,
Or doing they know not what,
Or casting—unholy alliance!—
With the infidel legion their lot,
The foes of the Faith in its beauty
'Gainst the Church of our fathers unite—
But not in our strength, O Saviour!
Thine only, we gird for the fight.

All wrongfulness, firm yet forgiving,
For His sake, O brothers, endure:
For His heritage 'tis we are warring,
And the heritage of His poor:—
Though the spoiler rage hotly around us,
We stand in full faith in His word;
For our House on the Rock is founded,
And the Rock is the Living Lord.

—O Boat on Gennesareth heaving,
As the winds 'gainst her oarsmen prevail!
Christ's Ark, which the forces of darkness
In all lands, through all ages, assail!
—The Holy One moves in the tempest;
The storm-cries of fury are stay'd:
And lo! the still Voice of assurance—
“It is I, Sons! be not afraid.”