Poems by Cecil Frances Alexander Edited, with a preface, by William Alexander |
 | II. |
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 | V. |
THE PROJECTED TAYLOR CATHEDRAL AT BELFAST. |
| VII. |
 | Poems by Cecil Frances Alexander |  |
423
THE PROJECTED TAYLOR CATHEDRAL AT BELFAST.
Faithful to his origin immortal,
To the image wherein he was made,
Man looks down through Time's mysterious portal,
Makes himself a trophy in the shade;
To the image wherein he was made,
Man looks down through Time's mysterious portal,
Makes himself a trophy in the shade;
Draws from out his heart's impassioned fountains
Words that linger on with deathless tone;
Or, as envious of the eternal mountains,
Carves an immortality in stone.
Words that linger on with deathless tone;
Or, as envious of the eternal mountains,
Carves an immortality in stone.
Still the poet felt that inward longing,
Struggled still to speak his inward want,
Sound some words to catch the high thoughts thronging,
Some world-music for his heavenly chant.
Struggled still to speak his inward want,
Sound some words to catch the high thoughts thronging,
Some world-music for his heavenly chant.
The boy painter brooding in the meadows,
Or in peasant cot at evening's fall,
Traced in sand his soul's fast-coming shadows,
Dashed them out in charcoal on the wall.
Or in peasant cot at evening's fall,
Traced in sand his soul's fast-coming shadows,
Dashed them out in charcoal on the wall.
Art, her dreams from touch to touch unfolded
By that marvellous power that man calls taste,
Laid the chisel on the mass unmoulded,
Reared her fairy fabrics in the waste.
By that marvellous power that man calls taste,
Laid the chisel on the mass unmoulded,
Reared her fairy fabrics in the waste.
424
All of genius, pity, true devotion,
Finds an utterance beautiful or strong,
High Heaven itself has no untold emotion,
Seraph's love hath still the seraph's song.
Finds an utterance beautiful or strong,
High Heaven itself has no untold emotion,
Seraph's love hath still the seraph's song.
So, to-day, there comes a noble yearning
To our hearts, a vision to our eyes,
Fair as when we see red sunsets burning
Golden fanes into the western skies,
To our hearts, a vision to our eyes,
Fair as when we see red sunsets burning
Golden fanes into the western skies,
And that worthier thought that whispers proudly,
“Leave our sons some token of our life;
Leave them something that shall speak more loudly
Than the voices of our sin and strife.”
“Leave our sons some token of our life;
Leave them something that shall speak more loudly
Than the voices of our sin and strife.”
Finest forms that in her hours most gifted
Fancy weaves, or taste delighted piles,
And that strange thrill of the heart uplifted
That comes to us in Cathedral aisles.
Fancy weaves, or taste delighted piles,
And that strange thrill of the heart uplifted
That comes to us in Cathedral aisles.
Every rich and beautiful ideal,
Love that gives, and faith that scorns to doubt,
Ah! we go to-day to make them real,
Ah! we go to work our impulse out.
Love that gives, and faith that scorns to doubt,
Ah! we go to-day to make them real,
Ah! we go to work our impulse out.
Too long taste has wept, and love grown weary,
Looking for a sign along the land:
Let the hammers ringing in the quarry
Bring forth something beautiful and grand,
Looking for a sign along the land:
Let the hammers ringing in the quarry
Bring forth something beautiful and grand,
425
Worthy of her mountains everlasting,
Purple-tinted, sleeping on the lakes:
Worthy of her bold sea headlands, casting
Broken shadows where the white surge breaks.
Purple-tinted, sleeping on the lakes:
Worthy of her bold sea headlands, casting
Broken shadows where the white surge breaks.
Long ago she made her rude endeavour—
Scattered churches with no grudging hand,
Flung them down by fertile field and river,
In green valleys and by sea-washed strand.
Scattered churches with no grudging hand,
Flung them down by fertile field and river,
In green valleys and by sea-washed strand.
Witness olden oaks and silver birches,
That have trembled over Glendalough
To the seven bells of her seven churches—
Shannon's waves and Cashel's guardian rock.
That have trembled over Glendalough
To the seven bells of her seven churches—
Shannon's waves and Cashel's guardian rock.
Witness Muckross mid her woodlands shady,
Cast in ruins round her haunted tree,
And that shrine where sleep the knight and lady
Evermore at Howth beside the sea.
Cast in ruins round her haunted tree,
And that shrine where sleep the knight and lady
Evermore at Howth beside the sea.
Knight and dame, and old Cistercian friar,
In your marble sleep by lough and glen:
Purer faith shall win to impulse higher
Us gain-loving and world-weary men.
In your marble sleep by lough and glen:
Purer faith shall win to impulse higher
Us gain-loving and world-weary men.
Now no more by lonely vale and forest
Rear we carven arch or oriel fair,
But where the great toil of life is sorest,
And the strife of voices fills the air.
Rear we carven arch or oriel fair,
But where the great toil of life is sorest,
And the strife of voices fills the air.
426
This no time for wounded hearts eschewing
Care and pain, a vain world left behind,
But an age of earnest, busy doing,
Hand with hand, and eager mind to mind.
Care and pain, a vain world left behind,
But an age of earnest, busy doing,
Hand with hand, and eager mind to mind.
And, beyond the sense of natural beauty,
Than fair contemplation Heaven-inclined
Higher far is calm courageous duty,
Working in God's sight for human kind.
Than fair contemplation Heaven-inclined
Higher far is calm courageous duty,
Working in God's sight for human kind.
For our age goes onward; ever goaded,
Man by man they strive in earnest sort;
Commerce stirs, and the good ship comes loaded
With fresh riches to the teeming port.
Man by man they strive in earnest sort;
Commerce stirs, and the good ship comes loaded
With fresh riches to the teeming port.
Let our token in the populous city,
Where the workman wearies at his craft,
Where the wheels are turning without pity,
And the black smoke rolls from the tall shaft.
Where the workman wearies at his craft,
Where the wheels are turning without pity,
And the black smoke rolls from the tall shaft.
For a great cathedral is the people's,
Speaking to them of the better part;
And the music out of heaven-set steeples,
Blesses trade and sanctifies the heart.
Speaking to them of the better part;
And the music out of heaven-set steeples,
Blesses trade and sanctifies the heart.
Never will the marble arch grow duller
For the tread of feet beneath its span,
Never the rich window lose its colour
For the wondering eyes of gazing man.
For the tread of feet beneath its span,
Never the rich window lose its colour
For the wondering eyes of gazing man.
427
Where the dense crowd presses in our alleys,
And the palace of the merchant stands,
And the bay is leaden with the galleys,
And the streets with men of other lands—
And the palace of the merchant stands,
And the bay is leaden with the galleys,
And the streets with men of other lands—
Here, where breezes, from the channel blowing,
Lift the smoke-veil on our city laid,
Stately rows of marble arches, showing,
Soon shall mock the forest's green arcade.
Lift the smoke-veil on our city laid,
Stately rows of marble arches, showing,
Soon shall mock the forest's green arcade.
Soon the gorgeous oriel shall glisten,
Tingeing all things, from the chancel floor
To the angel heads that seem to listen
From the corbels at the western door.
Tingeing all things, from the chancel floor
To the angel heads that seem to listen
From the corbels at the western door.
Soon, like voice of wind and wave sonorous,
Keeping time upon our northern shore,
From the white-robed choir, in sweetest chorus,
Alleluias down the nave shall pour.
Keeping time upon our northern shore,
From the white-robed choir, in sweetest chorus,
Alleluias down the nave shall pour.
And since, like a child for ever turning
Where it saw its absent mother last,
With a tender retrospective yearning
Human hearts go back into the past,
Where it saw its absent mother last,
With a tender retrospective yearning
Human hearts go back into the past,
And we love from out its shades to gather
Spirits sympathetic with our own,
Saying fondly of the friend or father,
“He had loved it well if he had known”—
Spirits sympathetic with our own,
Saying fondly of the friend or father,
“He had loved it well if he had known”—
428
So to-day there is a memory mingled
With our labours, and an honoured name,
Not chosen causeless, or unduly singled,
Worthy winner of a world-wide fame:
With our labours, and an honoured name,
Not chosen causeless, or unduly singled,
Worthy winner of a world-wide fame:
Who, like some vast treasure-coffer holden
Of the waves, and cast up on our strand,
Opened all his gems and fancies golden
In this lovely corner of the land:
Of the waves, and cast up on our strand,
Opened all his gems and fancies golden
In this lovely corner of the land:
Whose great genius, prodigally given
To each theme that tasked its wondrous powers,
Like a lark sang at the gate of Heaven,
Like a wild bee wandered in the flowers.
To each theme that tasked its wondrous powers,
Like a lark sang at the gate of Heaven,
Like a wild bee wandered in the flowers.
For each fine conception he found issue
And embroidered with some rare conceit,
Every corner of the silken tissue
That he laid down at his Saviour's feet.
And embroidered with some rare conceit,
Every corner of the silken tissue
That he laid down at his Saviour's feet.
Speaks the silver pen for time no longer,
Loosed the chord, and snapped the golden string;
But we claim his memory till a stronger
Or a sweeter make our Minster sing.
Loosed the chord, and snapped the golden string;
But we claim his memory till a stronger
Or a sweeter make our Minster sing.
Here embalmed, until that future ask it,
Lay it, steeped in colours rich and rare.
Keep the relic in a noble casket,
Carven marble arch and symbol fair.
Lay it, steeped in colours rich and rare.
Keep the relic in a noble casket,
Carven marble arch and symbol fair.
429
Nothing is too precious for our Master,
Nothing rich enough our zeal to prove.
With the ointment break the alabaster,
Golden tresses wet with tears of love.
Nothing rich enough our zeal to prove.
With the ointment break the alabaster,
Golden tresses wet with tears of love.
Surely, when low penitential voices
With the loud laudates mingle free,
Up above, the heavenly host rejoices,
Standing round about the crystal sea.
With the loud laudates mingle free,
Up above, the heavenly host rejoices,
Standing round about the crystal sea.
Surely Christ in heaven, our love possessing,
Will look down upon this holy place;
Bless us with the good Centurion's blessing,
Fill us with the fulness of His grace.
Will look down upon this holy place;
Bless us with the good Centurion's blessing,
Fill us with the fulness of His grace.
| Poems by Cecil Frances Alexander | |