 | The Legend of the Golden Prayers and other poems |  |
180
[Churches.]
ON AN OLD FONT IN THE WARDEN'S GARDEN AT WINCHESTER.
Sigh not, nor deem that stone profaned
Whose lip has held, in olden day,
The hallow'd waters, where the stain'd
Wash'd earth's first taint away.
Whose lip has held, in olden day,
The hallow'd waters, where the stain'd
Wash'd earth's first taint away.
Still dearly love that sculptured shrine
Where hallow'd genius loved to bring
Her curious work, her rare design,
To God in offering.
Where hallow'd genius loved to bring
Her curious work, her rare design,
To God in offering.
The clustering arch, the storied pane
Still proudly prize—but let no thought
Sin to the fairer, statelier fane,
That His own hand has wrought;
Still proudly prize—but let no thought
Sin to the fairer, statelier fane,
That His own hand has wrought;
Nor deem that broken font misplaced
Within this graceful garden-ground,
Flowers such as chisel never traced
Are here to clasp it round.
Within this graceful garden-ground,
Flowers such as chisel never traced
Are here to clasp it round.
181
Here through the quiet Summer night,
Long silent nights without a cloud,
It lieth; in the sweet star-light
Wrapt like a silver shroud.
Long silent nights without a cloud,
It lieth; in the sweet star-light
Wrapt like a silver shroud.
Here incense sweet, at morn and even,
From countless censers riseth up,
And pure bright dew-drops, fresh from Heaven,
Fall in its broken cup.
From countless censers riseth up,
And pure bright dew-drops, fresh from Heaven,
Fall in its broken cup.
Still through its guardian plane-trees tall
The fretted window fairly shows,
And on the turf the chapel wall
A stately shadow throws.
The fretted window fairly shows,
And on the turf the chapel wall
A stately shadow throws.
Still when the stream's wild bubble dies,
A deep sweet chant is on the air,
Teaching our hearts to harmonize
The holy and the fair;
A deep sweet chant is on the air,
Teaching our hearts to harmonize
The holy and the fair;
The hoary tower, the shadowy tree,
The stream, the flowers entwining gay,
Genius, and love, and piety,
Old strength and fair decay;
The stream, the flowers entwining gay,
Genius, and love, and piety,
Old strength and fair decay;
182
Here met and mingled—all His own,
Who Nature framed, who guided art,
Inspired the hand that traced the stone,
And stain'd the lily's heart.
Who Nature framed, who guided art,
Inspired the hand that traced the stone,
And stain'd the lily's heart.
Marble and flower to Him look up,
His presence hallows shrine and sod;
Deem not they desecrate the cup
Who leave it here with God.
His presence hallows shrine and sod;
Deem not they desecrate the cup
Who leave it here with God.
183
OUTSIDE.
I. In Spirit.
On seeing a Lady perverted to Romanism stand outside Winchester Cathedral during Evening Service.
Dost thou stand at thy mother's threshold,
And wilt not enter in,
Though her sweet voice patiently swelleth
Over the city's din?
And wilt not enter in,
Though her sweet voice patiently swelleth
Over the city's din?
Could a wandering child thus linger
Outside the latticed pane,
If she heard her own mother singing,
Within, her cradle strain?
Outside the latticed pane,
If she heard her own mother singing,
Within, her cradle strain?
If she saw, through the narrow casement,
The lights on the hearth-stone burn,
And her brethren there, and her sisters
Waiting their sire's return?
The lights on the hearth-stone burn,
And her brethren there, and her sisters
Waiting their sire's return?
184
Down the long nave falleth the measure
That sooth'd thy childhood's rest,
And the mother is singing vespers,
Who bore thee on her breast;
That sooth'd thy childhood's rest,
And the mother is singing vespers,
Who bore thee on her breast;
And the fire is bright on the altar,
And the worshippers are there—
Wilt thou stand alone on the threshold,
Out in the evening air?
And the worshippers are there—
Wilt thou stand alone on the threshold,
Out in the evening air?
185
II. In Body.
Thou hast been dwelling in a gleam
Of glorious light, sent down from Heaven,
It mingled with thy morning dream,
It broke the twilight of thine even;
Of glorious light, sent down from Heaven,
It mingled with thy morning dream,
It broke the twilight of thine even;
It came with concord of sweet sounds,
With herald strains of church-bells ringing,
With words of mercy breathing round,
With chanted prayers and choral singing.
With herald strains of church-bells ringing,
With words of mercy breathing round,
With chanted prayers and choral singing.
Along thy daily path it lay,
For inward peace, for added grace,
And thou didst linger in the ray;
The world shut out a little space.
For inward peace, for added grace,
And thou didst linger in the ray;
The world shut out a little space.
'Tis past, or if it linger yet,
Poor weary heart, 'tis not for thee,
Still, day by day, those sweet bells set
Chime to the murmur of the sea.
Poor weary heart, 'tis not for thee,
186
Chime to the murmur of the sea.
Still by the fair shrine never cease
The cry of penitence and prayer—
The answering voice of hope, and peace,
And comfort,—but thou art not there.
The cry of penitence and prayer—
The answering voice of hope, and peace,
And comfort,—but thou art not there.
In vain the distant measure thrills
Thine heart, and vibrates in thine ear,
'Tis but an echo from the hills,
That cheats the home-sick mountaineer;
Thine heart, and vibrates in thine ear,
'Tis but an echo from the hills,
That cheats the home-sick mountaineer;
'Tis but the wild wave's murmuring tone
In ocean-shell far inland heard;—
But say not, dream not, thus alone
Is heavenward thought and rapture stirr'd.
In ocean-shell far inland heard;—
But say not, dream not, thus alone
Is heavenward thought and rapture stirr'd.
Sweet are the strains that upward float
When Christian hearts in unison meet,
And passing sweet the pastoral note
That bears them to a Saviour's feet.
When Christian hearts in unison meet,
And passing sweet the pastoral note
That bears them to a Saviour's feet.
187
But, these denied, let no quick word
Or thought o'er fond, or hopeless sigh,
O living temple of the Lord!
Sin to Thine inward commune high.
Or thought o'er fond, or hopeless sigh,
O living temple of the Lord!
Sin to Thine inward commune high.
Thou hast a shrine no hand can close,
No duty leave its courts untrod,
Where the true heart in secret knows
The presence of the spirit's God.
No duty leave its courts untrod,
Where the true heart in secret knows
The presence of the spirit's God.
There grief may all her woes reveal,
There penitence may bring her shame,
Submission by the altar kneel,
And self-denial feed the flame;
There penitence may bring her shame,
Submission by the altar kneel,
And self-denial feed the flame;
There patience, wearing duty's chain,
And meek-faced love, and pure desire,
May breathe within as sweet a strain
As ever thrill'd from yonder choir;
And meek-faced love, and pure desire,
May breathe within as sweet a strain
As ever thrill'd from yonder choir;
There, though thy heart in vain should yearn
For other voice, estranged or dumb,
If thine own incense duly burn,
The great High Priest Himself shall come.
For other voice, estranged or dumb,
If thine own incense duly burn,
The great High Priest Himself shall come.
188
Ah! dream in sorrowing mood no more,
Of vows unpaid, uncancell'd sin,
Thou art not shut from Eden's door,
Thy truest Heaven is found within.
Of vows unpaid, uncancell'd sin,
Thou art not shut from Eden's door,
Thy truest Heaven is found within.
Deep in that wounded heart of thine
The temple of thy refuge lies,
Thyself the altar and the shrine,
And thine own heart the sacrifice.
The temple of thy refuge lies,
Thyself the altar and the shrine,
And thine own heart the sacrifice.
| The Legend of the Golden Prayers and other poems | |