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

Ere sin hath brush'd away the morning bloom,
How great the care to holy Childhood due,
When streaks of purple morn the cheek illume,
And light the drops of the Baptismal dew!
It is a precious sight which Angels view
In trembling joy and hope; immortal Love
Hangs o'er it, watching every opening hue,
For such alone on this bad earth may prove
Meet for his golden house in highest Heaven above.

Childhood, in God's own temple ever found,
As when the lamps of Eve their shadow flung,
And Samuel heard the awful voice profound;
Or when the Temple with Hosannas rung,
And Christ was welcom'd by the infant tongue:
Yea, Christ Himself is seen a holy child,
Sitting His Heavenly Father's courts among:
Then what, O Lord, 'mong men by sin beguil'd,
Is for Thy temple meet, but Childhood undefil'd?

Sweet Childhood, shadow of celestial Love,
Train'd to look up, and hold a parent's hand,
And ever lift the eye to one above;
Which knows not yet while it obeys command,
Hopes all, and all believes; Elysian land,
Where that which is most lovely seems most true!
Sweet unsuspecting Childhood, whose sweet wand
Bids fair enchanting scenes arise to view,
Faint emblem of that love that maketh all things new!

Thou dost o'er all thine own dear charms diffuse,
And through our weary life we turn to thee
As to a fountain fresh, where Heavenly dews
Are on each scene, and after all we flee
To what we lov'd in holier infancy:
Meek Childhood, in my soul again arise,
Drinking the air of immortality,
Thou shedd'st o'er life a gleam of Paradise,
Lifting the earth to Heaven, or bringing down the skies!

Blest is the shield, when Childhood's Innocence
Watches around like some unearthly spell,
Ere it has flown before the manlier sense:
Instinctive spirits, which in virtue dwell,
Keep ward within, and from their citadel
Fly to the cheek at every thought of blame,
Conscious of weakness e'en in doing well,
Anticipate in fear the glowing shame,
The fear of ill more pure than Virtue's boasted name.

Great be the heed no word nor deed unclean
Should soil that mirror which reflects the skies!
For evil Angels watch around unseen
To spoil that bloom so dear in Heavenly eyes,
Which nothing can recall. O learn to prize
That ignorance, let Manhood wait awhile:
Manhood must learn of Childhood to be wise,
In wisdom priz'd of God, and free from guile;—
Her very light deceives, her wisdom doth defile.

Within the arms of the great Lord of love
As in the teacher's seat, thou gentle Child,
We see thee, all our wisdom to reprove,—
That we may learn of thee, thou wisest styl'd,
Learn virgin innocence, learn mercy mild,
Unlearn ambition, unlearn carefulness.
O life where state of Angels is fulfill'd,
And Saints, who little have and need still less;
A state which nothing hath, yet all things doth possess!

Then Thought awakes to earth, and sea, and sky;
And Faith first dawning in the unharm'd breast
Tell's o'er the tale of what it is to die:
Night after night, as Evening brings its rest,
The Day departing rises manifest,
And makes appeal—before his Judge he stands,
While Conscience, by Baptismal power impress'd,
Pleads with him, and points out to God's commands,
And Angels good and ill stretch forth their speaking hands.

Then the untamper'd Witness pleads within,
And Good or Evil gain their silent sway,
In thoughts accusing or excusing sin.
How little doth he deem, from day to day,
What dread Spectators watch his destin'd way!
How 'mid assembled worlds he stands alone.
They see him pray, see him forget to pray,
While the accuser stands before the throne,
And when his arts prevail doth claim him for his own.

Then with the volume of his life outspread
Stands the recording Angel, trembling till
The day appointed is for ever fled,
And shews how little good, how much of ill,—
The broken vows and the untutor'd will,—
Points to the twofold tablet,—thoughts of awe,—
Resolves of seeking good, avoiding ill;—
And stern to view, refusing to withdraw,
Rising in mirror stern dread Sinai's written Law.

Now trample 'neath thy feet the deadly coil
Of that fell Monster; for all Heaven is mute,
And waiting for thee: in the tender soil
Of Youth's soft heart plant the immortal shoot
Of Heaven-born Virtue: it shall bear thee fruit,
And bind thy locks with amaranthine wreath.
Now ply thine axe unto the accursed root,
It puts forth leaves, and woos Heaven's genial breath,
But soon its fruit appears; that fruit is endless death.

In earlier years oft Satan steals within,
In soft and yielding hearts to drop the seed,
Till all unseen will spread the tree of sin;
Its leaves are evil thoughts which thence proceed,
Those leaves on which the undying worm doth feed,
With stealthy arms extending more and more
Over the soul, while none within takes heed;—
Yet Faith's strong prayer e'en now can aid implore,
And cast into the sea the deadly sycamore .

And in soft Childhood's heart will Virtue spring
Unheeded, there to drink celestial air,
And all the thoughts to her obedience bring,
Nourish'd day after day with dews of prayer,
Unseen, unknown, shrouded with many a care,
And scarce discernible to fleshly eye,
More and more bow'd to earth and hiding there;
But soon releas'd its stature fills the sky,
And soars the Angelic child of immortality.

That inborn Virtue shall become thy guide,
And lead thee on thy way and be thy light,
Still ever strengthening, ever by thy side
Holding thy hand, in arms celestial bright,
And home shall lead the wanderer of the night;—
As Azarias who Tobias led,
And on his father's eye-balls pour'd the sight.
Little they know the aid around them spread,
Who upward pass from thee, thou City of the Dead.

Come on, Aspasio, on thy Heavenly war
With shield of faith and with the Spirit's sword,
Scatter the sin which doth thy pathway mar,
Strong in the mail of God's unfailing word,
The Urim and the Thummim of thy Lord.
Walls as of emerald from the eternal throne
On either side thy mirror shall afford,—
The table grav'd on Sinai's rocky stone,
Or by the hand of God writ in the heart alone.

See how Occasion calls thee, while the sand
Of hurrying life admits of no delay,
And mount the step of the eternal land,
One step o'ercome more easy the essay,
While o'er thy conquer'd self thou gainest sway;
Haste to arise, and on the destin'd road,
In arms bright burnish'd with the Heavenly ray,
Virtue herself shall meet thee on the road,
And lead thee gently on to Light's serene abode.

O Thou Who dost enlighten man's dark heart,
Light of the eyes, and life-enkindling Fire,
Be Thou a flaming wall on every part
Around him; may his heart to Thee aspire;
Conscience keep guard within o'er each desire;
On Thine own eagle wings bear Thine own child
Unto Thyself, still higher and still higher;
Be Thou his guide throughout this desert wild,
In the Baptismal cloud or fire in glory pil'd.

Let peaceful Solitude, that sits apart
Hid in her cave from the full glare of day,
Learning communion with the silent heart,
Teach him betimes to ponder all his way,
Teach him to know where he has gone astray,
Where he hath giv'n his heart to meaner things,
Where earthly idols he hath made his stay,
Where to past deeds of sin his Memory clings,
Where Darkness o'er his heart her chilly mantle flings.

How oft his careless tongue hath kindled fire;
How oft his hand hath minister'd to ill;
How oft his eye hath drunk in bad desire;
How oft his feet have follow'd wayward will;
How oft low earthly thoughts his spirit fill;
How oft his palate seeks itself to please;
How oft his form is deck'd the soul to kill;
How oft his time runs to the absorbing seas,
Pursuing empty dreams, or lost in shapeless ease.

O spread the awful scroll, and teach us now,
Lest Conscience sleep, while Justice' scroll is stor'd,
Nor know the dread amount of all her woe,
Till face to face she stands before the Lord,
And hears the sound of His undying word.
Or on the parting soul should Memory wake
To lift the curtain, and her light afford
To read the record, stifled Conscience break
Long silence with a voice the bed of death to shake.

Then through the vista of departed life
Shall gleam the moonlight shadows of the past,
Where light and cloud commingling seem at strife;
Guilt like a spectral shade shall rise aghast,
Remorse sad moaning like the rising blast,
Embryo Resolves, and Warnings lightning-bright,
Witnesses trumpet-tongued now heard at last,
Occasions lost, and, standing in clear light,
Visions of the dark soul that lov'd the gloom of night.

Open the fount Baptismal of my tears
Within my heart of hearts; bid it to flow,
And wash my soul again from these my fears;
Drown the bad fires which in my spirit glow.
O light the lamp within that I may know
How far Thy seal upon my soul is riven,
The breadth and depth and height of this my woe,
How far from my true course I have been driven,
Where from Bethesda's pool the road is pav'd to Heaven.

E'en like some mirror of resplendent glass,
Or galaxy of isles with stars serene,
There is a road whereon the ransom'd pass,
Wherein the life of each is fully seen;
“Ah me,” I cried aloud, “I am unclean,
Through this thy star-bright pavement I behold
What it is death to see; the crystal sheen
Of this thy mirror shews a deadly fold
Around my heart; I sink, all trembling, sad, and cold.”

With that methought the form of Mercy mild
Upheld me by the hand, and bade me look
Sternly upon that self with sin defil'd;
More on that view and more I trembling shook,
And sunk upon my knees, and could not brook
That sight so dismal, till she pitying cried,
“Through Penitence's gate we now must look,
Lost is the happier path, to peace allied,
Yet fail not, cling thou still unto my sheltering side.”

With that I came unto a place so sad,
I would not speak of it to happy ears,
Nor shapes therein that met me, sable-clad;
Shapes of remorse they were and stalking fears,
That glared on me, and told of long past years;
And much I question'd them, and wander'd on
Until I came to the dark lake of tears,
And kneelèd down to drink, and lo, thereon
Saw mine own image gleam, a spectre pale and wan.

Till from behind a torch's silent light
Shone in that bed of darkness, and I turn'd
To see who held that lamp; half-hid from sight
Stood that sweet form of Mercy: fitful burn'd
The lamp, and her pale cheek, thereby discern'd,
Had lost its brightness; “Let me on thee tend,”
I cried, “nor wander from thy presence spurn'd.”
“The way is dark,” she answer'd, “hither wend,
And join that ancient path which Heavenward doth ascend.”

With that I upward sprung, as one new-born
Unto a second life, and full of wings,
Buoyant as erst on that Baptismal morn:
But she with sorrow answer'd, “Devious springs
Hence many a path and forms delusive brings;
First o'er this lake of sorrows must we sail,
Where Doubt her overhanging shadow flings.”
I saw meek Mercy's cheek with sadness pale,
Yet waxèd glad in hope that I might yet prevail.

“Oh, more than joys which unto youth belong'd
If thou wilt still admit me to thy side,
And frown on me when I thy care have wrong'd,
Meek Mercy! I will still with thee abide,
In all the ways of sadness would be tried;
No other boon I ask, I crave not light,
But beam of thy calm eye to hope allied;
Wrap me with thee in mantle of the night,
To seek the shapes of pain that shrink from human sight.

“On all the ills which upon sin await
Fain would I tend with thee,—the silent cell
Of Want and Pain which sit before Death's gate,—
If at thy sheltering side I may but dwell,
And bear to them those mercies which I tell,
And which I need; to them I would impart
Goods undeserv'd by me, my treasures sell
To buy the Kingdom of the poor in heart,
If haply I might learn meek Mercy's healing art.”

She answer'd, “Heaven for them hath love in store,
Who see their image in the fount of tears,
And more and more their sinful selves deplore;
While the pale vision of their vanish'd years
Visits them, and a threat'ning aspect wears,
It finds them on their knees, nor e'er again
O'ertakes with its allurements, till their fears
Shall turn to hope, while at the Cross of pain
They drink the healing stores which dying life sustain.”

“What service,” I replied, “can I return
For gifts so great, for such exceeding love?
Earnest desire within my breast doth burn
To watch o'er Childhood, which doth heedless rove,
Nor knows the foe whose darts oft deadly prove,
Ere yet suspected by sweet innocence;—
To keep my ways and words, lest they should prove
Wiles to Christ's little ones, snares of offence,
But most for them to seek Heaven's sheltering sure defence.”

“Full much they need it,”—with a deep-drawn sigh
Meek Mercy answered, while the thoughts of pain
Seem'd kindling wrath in her unwonted eye,—
“Full much they need, for in this Christian land,
Careless of all things but of filthy gain,

So little their own ruin'd souls they mourn,
In their own paths their children would they train;
No mother's cares with Christian grace adorn,
No father's love is theirs with Christian fears to warn.

“Untaught of God they leave a parent's roof,
Untaught of God return: in baptiz'd hands,
(O shame, where Reverence' self should stand aloof!)
The foulest thoughts are placed of Heathen lands;
What more could Satan ask? Silent he stands
Watching the unguarded hour, when Self-control
Sleeps, then with downy thoughts all deftly shod
He steals,—with flowers enwreathing deadly bands,—
To strew the floor which Heavenly feet have trod,
And dim in the pure heart the vision of its God.

“Thus to be left with Christian love unarm'd
'Mid blasts of death, in that confiding hour,—
O miracle that thou shouldst 'scape unharm'd!
O proof that Angels watch thee, tender flower!
Dear Child, though clouds around thy morning lower,
Yet Love shall look on penitential tears,
Fair as the Sun that looks upon the shower,
And give the promise then of better years,
When e'en in Childhood's wants His rescuing hand appears.”

“How can I thank the Giver of all good,”
I answer'd, “Who when I, destruction-bent,
Was on the verge of ruin, by me stood,
And, wrapp'd in seeming worldly accident,
One like His own good Angel to me sent,
On whom my love grew daily; and, the more
It grew, more deeply was my spirit rent;
And Pain was struggling with that deadly sore,
Planting new thoughts that might my ruin'd state restore?”

Thou ever wast around me though unseen,
Watching around in ways unspeakable,
While I was hurrying on from scene to scene
As if my ways were mine. Yet like a spell
Baptismal power still held me, like a well
Flowing upon my soul with Sabbath thought,
Bathing with light; yet it became a cell
For Stygian things to hide in; and I sought,
Ah me, to quench the light by Thine own life-blood bought!

Still didst Thou bear me—still didst suffer long,
Still struggle with me, and with tender love
Imbue my heart, which only did Thee wrong,
Wasting my youth's affections; with me strove
Thy Spirit still, made meaner objects prove
My sadness; and whene'er Thy beauteous light
Fell on the things around me, they would move
My worship, and I gaz'd on the fair sight,
Turning my back on Thee, Who makest all things bright.

Still I was Thine, and Thou didst with me bear,
Thine in the womb, and in my childhood Thine,
Thine while I knew it not, and had no care;
My very hairs were Thine,—Thou didst incline
My heart to Thee, cherish each good design,
While still Thine own best blessings I defil'd,
Still breaking from Thee, making all things mine
By blending them with sin—mine own work wild:
Unmake me, oh, again make me to be a child!

Make me again hang on Thee, and look up
To all around me; give me here to know
Far less of this bad world; to drink that cup
Of sorrows which the childish heart o'erflow;
Take high things from me, give the lowly brow,—
Having and needing nothing, from Thy hand
Fed day by day; to be again e'en now
A child in wonder; all we understand,
Will seem an infant's dream in that celestial land.

Thou, my Aspasio, object of my care,
How shall I hide thee from the unpitying winds
Of this rude world:—and keep thy cheek so fair
In the sweet innocence of unsoil'd minds
From that which, ah! too soon, the spirit finds?
If I do love thee with a spirit's love,
In this bad earth where sin our vision blinds,
How should I pray some Angel from above
May guide thee from this world, and thy sure guardian prove!

St. Luke xvii. 6, as explained by St. Chrys. and St. Ambrose.

See Image IX. Stanza 1st.