35

SACRED POETRY.

COLLEGE GARDENS.

AN EVENING IN THE LONG VACATION.

I.

A MOUNTAIN lake, where sleeps the mid-day moon,
When beetle booming by is heard no more,-
"Twixt drowsy hills and sea a sultry noon;

A rural church, some evening funeral o'er ;-
The image of a leaf on watery floor:
On cloistral pane the gaze of saint or seer,

Suffused with lesson sweet of heavenly lore
And heavenly-rapt affection. These all wear
Calm unalloyed, but none as lingereth here.

II.

The long green avenue, where light and shade,
Chequering the floor, now play, now sleep profound;
Old pines the lonely breeze that by them strayed
Wooing in vain; old yews, and far beyond,
The trees and aged spires seem to have found
A voice, while busier sounds are dimly spent,
As waken'd by the stillness. One around,
On pillars of blue light hath spread his tent :
Walks he not here below in silence eloquent ?

III.

And now we hear him; thus when nature's wheel
Is still, we find ourselves hurrying along,

In crowds ourselves alone we mostly feel,

When turbulence of business, and the throng Of passionate hopes, which unto earth belong, And mould too oft from earth the rebel will, Sleep, then we hear the mighty undersong

To which loud Niagara's voice is still,

And mute the thunders strong which air and ocean fill.

IV.

O heavenly love, that o'er us sin-defiled,

With thy blest arm beneath us, leaning low,

Dost watch! fond mother o'er thy slumbering child,
That still in dreams is tossing to and fro,

And knowing, knows thee not! Aye come and go

Thy messengers of pity: from heaven's door

The star its silver image shoots below,

Seen instantaneous in the watery floor

So quick 'tween earth and heaven thy beams of mercy pour!

Into my cold and leaden spirit stream

Out of thy star of beauty, that doth burn

Around my Saviour's brow! O grant one beam,
One faint, dim emanation, from thine urn,
Which e'en in me may so responsive turn,

Like magnet, to thy pole, that I may rove
No longer. I my daily path would earn,
And gather tow'rd the haven; I would move
On by thy light, till lost in everlasting love.

VI.

Oh, hide me in thy temple, ark serene!

Where, safe upon the swell of this rude sea,
I might survey the stars thy towers between,
And might pray always; not that I would be
Uplifted, or would fain not dwell with thee
On the rough waters, but in soul within

I sigh for thy pure calm, serene and free;
I too would prove thy temple, 'mid the din
Of earthly things, unstained by care or sin.

VII.

Into the deeps where Evening holds her court
A feather'd flock are winging their wild flight;
Now gradual fading far, now borne athwart
And seen again, now lost in infinite
And sea of purple; we with eager sight
Would match their soaring wing, as on the swell
Of music lingering in some vaulted height,
Then sink, and feel our chain and earthly cell ;-
When shall the soul be free, and in those glories dwell!

THE DOXOLOGY.

1.

THE threefold heavens, of glorious height,

Are made one dwelling for thy might,
Set upon pillars of the light.

The earth, and sea, and blue-arch'd air,

Do form below one temple fair,
Thy footstool 'neath the heavenly stair.

The sun, and moon, and silent stars,
One sentry form of living spars,
Which walks without thy palace bars.

II.

Angels and men, and brutes beneath,
Make up creation's triple wreath,
Which only liveth in thy breath.

In fish, and birds, and beasts around,
One wondrous character is found,
The skirt which doth thy mantle bound.

And Nature's three fair realms convey
One note through this our earthly day,
Dying in distance far away.

I've heard it said, by such as take delight
To seek for new things in the ancient way,
And love old truth in changeful garb t' array,
And scorn the ordered prayer and decent rite,
That o'er us hangs Formality's dull night;

Treading from week to week one weary round,
Where no upspringing novelty is found,

As by the drear way-side the flow'ret bright;
It may be as they speak-yet if it be,

Why is my inmost soul within me stirred

Whene'er the church's time-worn creeds are heard?
Why then, if all be formal, do I find,

As though on Truth's unsealed treasury
I gazed, the movements of a miser's mind.

II.

THE THREE CREEDS.

SIMPLE the strain at first; weak fence avails,
And bonds unlaboured for that little flock,
One body and one soul; the world may mock,
But unlearn'd Faith makes answer and prevails.
Turn yet a further page; the world assails

In rudeness and in cunning; line on line,
The church must now elaborate and define;
And so the Sophist's guile, unharming, fails.
And still, as swells the war cry, Faith must toil
To raise new outworks 'gainst the foemen fell
Who swarm around her 'leagured citadel;
Yea, plant her standards on th' aggressors soil.
First in that conflict-saint of fearless brow-
Oh may thy mantle fold our leaders now.

ERRATA in the June Number-Page 633, for "a Presbyter" read “ tery;" page 636, for " fam'd by the press" read "fann'd."

+ Athanasius.

a Presby

III.

PRESENT STATE.

FOR still, a troubled sea which cannot rest,
Around us break the waves of earthly change,
And with our steadfast language whispers strange
Are mingling, and loud tones from lips unblest,
Demanding still things new for things outworn;
We live, they say, as in a world new-born,
And it were good that we that creed profest
Which the most hold; good, too, that Faith her crest
Should stoop to new-born science; for the Truth
Mistaking its own symbols. Weary crowd!
Pass on, nor vex us with your clamour loud.
Ye seek the new and changing; we, in sooth,
Dwell in the fixed and ancient, looking through
Their ever widening portals on the true.

IV.

LIGHTEN OUR DARKNESS.

LIGHTEN our darkness-such the word of cheer
(Even as a gleam in a November sky

From out its dim clouds breaks forth suddenly)
That night by night our mother bids us hear,

Whene'er our toil-worn frames and hearts, forespent,
With pains unpaid and love disowned, are bent
As to the earth, and, dimmed with doubt and fear,
Lie down as night brings on the bright day's bier.
Lighten our darkness-and there shall be light
At evening tide, from weary day to day,
For those who, toiling in the narrow way,
Yet rest them on the Church's word of might.
She shall prevail who hath th' Eternal Son,
Though yet the fight be fierce, the goal unwon.

"Granting to us in this world knowledge of thy truth, and in the world to come life everlasting."

On that these spirit-stirring sounds to me
Revealed their depth of meaning!-Wo the hour
Recurring oft, wherein their hidden power

Has slumbered, cased in dull formality;
And so I listed not in earthly trance
Thy words, old saint of golden utterance.
I listed not-and so Truth passed me by,
Light broke not in on my captivity.

Eternal life it is the truth to learn

Those words have reached me now, but prayer and tears
May not fill up the void of wasted years-

Yet, surely, now my heart would fain discern
All thy dear teaching, late and weak I kneel
Duly to seek what thy high words reveal.

VI.

CHURCHING OF WOMEN.

WHO has not felt the kindly fostering care
That bids thee kneel, from travail pains set free,
And bids us raise the song of praise with thee,
And whisper for thy weal the Church's prayer?
Who has not felt nor known in that dear tie
His portion in a deeper mystery?

In that the bridegroom doth not shun to bear
The anguish of his bride, and bids us share..
High privilege, did we but know our bliss!

His mind of love, and ever-watchful thought,
Of them that mourn the Comforter-dear bought

For us that high communion! Do we miss

On earth its holy bonds?—our endless lot,
Ah, woe!-the Lord hath told-"I know ye not."

CORRESPONDENCE.

The Editor begs to remind his readers that he is not responsible for the opinions
of his Correspondents.

like

ON KEEPING CHURCHES OPEN.

SIR,-Although the legislative authority of the English church is (for the present) suspended by "pressure from without," yet, in works yours, among others, we have some vestige of deliberative functions. It may not, therefore, be indecent to canvass in your pages subjects which might more properly come under the notice of an ecclesiastical synod, were such a body in the habit of meeting.

With this feeling, I would suggest it to the consideration of your readers, whether the existing practice of closing our churches, except during the hours of common prayer, be not an abuse? My impression is, that it is so; and I believe most churchmen who, in travelling on the continent, have had an opportunity of comparing the two systems, will agree with me. The first effect of our system is, that no man among us thinks of resorting to the house of God for private prayer. In fact, however he might desire to do so, we preclude the possibility. It is not in the power of every man, like the venerable Hooker, "every Ember week to take from the parish clerk the key of the church door, into which place he retired every day, and locked himself up for many hours; and did the like most Fridays and other days of fasting." I believe it would require some experience to enable any man to estimate the degree of injury which has resulted to the devotion of our church from the disuse of this habit. It is the remark of one skilled in the practice of devotion,* "If you were to use yourself, as far as you can, to pray always in the same place; if you were to reserve that place for devotion, and not allow yourself to do anything common

• Law.