 | The hours of the passion and other poems |  |
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THE SILVER JUBILEE
CHURCH OF ST. PETER AND ST. EDWARD JUNE 8TH, 1890
Silver light of lilies, broad white light of noon,
Low twinkling lights beneath the altar, whispering clear,
‘We are here, we are alive, we, too, this day in June,
Salute you ere you come to us, O true and dear!’
Low twinkling lights beneath the altar, whispering clear,
‘We are here, we are alive, we, too, this day in June,
Salute you ere you come to us, O true and dear!’
Oh, we are proud, we are proud to-day, because we have some part
In our Cardinal,—Father, and Prince of us, and more;
Because of the stateliest head, because of the greatest heart,
In all the English realm, that is ours to bow before.
In our Cardinal,—Father, and Prince of us, and more;
Because of the stateliest head, because of the greatest heart,
In all the English realm, that is ours to bow before.
Who is the First in this city? You only have to look:—
The First by seal Divine will be First of citizens too;
For a King it were great grace to hand him his open book;—
God's law and man's law,—but hearts know their own way through.
The First by seal Divine will be First of citizens too;
For a King it were great grace to hand him his open book;—
God's law and man's law,—but hearts know their own way through.
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It is the sin of the world the noble head that bows,
The sorrow of all the world that in the eyes lies deep,
The care of the world that furrows the agèd vigilant brows,
And the Shepherd of all these souls in the evening may not sleep.
The sorrow of all the world that in the eyes lies deep,
The care of the world that furrows the agèd vigilant brows,
And the Shepherd of all these souls in the evening may not sleep.
But oh! to-day we ask for the joy that is the crown,
We dare to plead the patience of all these sacred years:
In Thy own measureless mercy, Thyself, O Lord, pour down
The blessings that his poor send up in prayers and tears!
We dare to plead the patience of all these sacred years:
In Thy own measureless mercy, Thyself, O Lord, pour down
The blessings that his poor send up in prayers and tears!
The air is all alive with desire of all men's eyes;—
Now comes the gleaming crimson as he passes by!
But suddenly the passionate pride within us dies,
Struck down beneath the awe of a great humility.
Now comes the gleaming crimson as he passes by!
But suddenly the passionate pride within us dies,
Struck down beneath the awe of a great humility.
He is kneeling in the midst, the meekest and most old,
And silent in the silence of hearts that break for love;
We give Thee thanks, O God, that we this day behold;
And the shadow brooding overhead is of the Holy Dove.
And silent in the silence of hearts that break for love;
We give Thee thanks, O God, that we this day behold;
And the shadow brooding overhead is of the Holy Dove.
Lord, Thou art here, he looks on Thee,—he speaks to us;
O precious day and precious hour of love and awe!
This to keep for days to come,—the voice that thrilled us thus,
And the tender heavenly face illuminate that we saw.
O precious day and precious hour of love and awe!
This to keep for days to come,—the voice that thrilled us thus,
And the tender heavenly face illuminate that we saw.
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The Sacred Heart, the Sacred Name,—he speaks the word:
Enough,—we have seen his face, no more for tears we see;
No need for Thee to ask, to-day and here, dear Lord,
‘Lovest thou Me?’ There is no doubt betwixt Thy Saint and Thee.
Enough,—we have seen his face, no more for tears we see;
No need for Thee to ask, to-day and here, dear Lord,
‘Lovest thou Me?’ There is no doubt betwixt Thy Saint and Thee.
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