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TIIE COMMINATION SERVICE. The Vested Priest before the Altar stands ; Shun not this Rite, neglected, yea abhorred, Approach, come gladly, ye prepared, in sight By some of unreflecting mind, as calling Of God and chosen friends, your troth to plight Man to curse man, (thought monstrous and With the symbolic ring, and willing hands

appalling.) Solemnly joined. Now sanctify the bands Go thou and hear the threatenings of the Lord; O Father !—to the Espoused thy blessing give,

Listening within his Temple see his sword That mutually assisted they may live

Unsheathed in wrath to strike the offender's head, Obedient, as here taught, to thy commands. Thy own, if sorrow for thy sin be dead, So prays the Church, to consecrate a Vow

Guilt unrepented, pardon unimplored. “ The which would endless matrimony make;" Two aspects bears Truth needful for salvation ; Union that shadows forth and doth partake

Who knows not that?—yet would this delicate age A mystery potent human love to endow [sake; Look only on the Gospel's brighter page: With heavenly, each more prized for the other's Let light and dark duly our thoughts employ ; Weep not, meek Bride ! uplift thy timid brow. So shall the fearful words of Commination

Yield timely fruit of peace and love and joy.





Woman! the Power who left his throne on high,
And deigned to wear the robe of flesh we wear,
The Power that thro' the straits of Infancy
Did pass dependant on maternal care,
His own humanity with Thee will share,
Pleased with the thanks that in his People's eye
Thou offerest up for safe Delivery
From Childbirth’s perilous throes. And should

the Heir
Of thy fond hopes hereafter walk inclined
To courses fit to make a mother rue
That ever he was born, a glance of mind
Cast upon this observance may renew
A better will; and, in the imagined view
Of thee thus kneeling, safety he may find.

To kneeling Worshippers no earthly floor
Gives holier invitation than the deck
Of a storm-shattered Vessel saved from Wreck
(When all that Man could do avail'd no more)
By him who raised the Tempest and restrains :
Happy the crew who this have felt, and pour
Forth for his mercy, as the Church ordains,
Solemn thanksgiving. Nor will they implore
In vain who, for a rightful cause, give breath
To words the Church prescribes aiding the lip
For the heart's sake, ere ship with hostile ship
Encounters, armed for work of pain and death.
Suppliants ! the God to whom your cause ye trust
Will listen, and ye know that He is just.

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The Sabbath bells renew the inviting peal ;
Glad music! yet there be that, worn with pain
And sickness, listen where they long have lain,
In sadness listen. With maternal zeal
Inspired, the Church sends ministers to kneel
Beside the afflicted; to sustain with prayer,
And soothe the heart confession hath laid bare-
That pardon, from God's throne, may set its seal
On a true Penitent. When breath departs
From one disburthened so, so comforted,
His Spirit Angels greet; and ours be hope
That, if the Sufferer rise from his sick-bed,
Hence he will gain a firmer mind, to cope
With a bad world, and foil the Tempter's arts.

From the Baptismal hour, thro’ weal and woe,
The Church extends her care to thought and deed;
Nor quits the Body when the Soul is freed,
The mortal weight cast off to be laid low.
Blest Rite for him who hears in faith, “ I know
That my Redeemer liveth,”—hears each word
That follows-striking on some kindred chord
Deep in the thankful heart ;-yet tears will flow.
Man is as grass that springeth up at morn,
Grows green, and is cut down and withereth
Ere nightfall-truth that well may claim a sigh,
Its natural echo; but hope comes reborn
At Jesu's bidding. We rejoice, “ O Death
Where is thy Sting ?-0 Grave where is thy Vic-


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Closing the sacred Book which long has fed

Monastic Domes ! following my downward way, Our meditations, give we to a day

Untouched by due regret I marked your fall ! Of annual joy one tributary lay ;

Now, ruin, beauty, ancient stillness, all
This day, when, forth by rustic music led, Dispose to judgments temperate as we lay
The village Children, while the sky is red

On our past selves in life's declining day:
With evening lights, advance in long array [gay, For as, by discipline of Time made wise,
Through the still church-yard, each with garland We learn to tolerate the infirmities
That, carried sceptre-like, o’ertops the head And faults of others-gently as he may,
Of the proud Bearer. To the wide church-door, So with our own the mild Instructor deals,
Charged with these offerings which their fathers bore Teaching us to forget them or forgive.
For decoration in the Papal time,

Perversely curious, then, for hidden ill
The innocent Procession softly moves :-

Why should we break Time's charitable seals? The spiritof Laud is pleased in heaven's pure clime, Once ye were holy, ye are holy still ; And Hooker's voice the spectacle approves ! Your spirit freely let me drink, and live!





Would that our scrupulous Sires had dared to leave Even while I speak, the sacred roofs of France
Less scanty measure of those graceful rites Are shattered into dust; and self-exiled
And usages, whose due return invites

From altars threatened, levelled, or defiled,
A stir of mind too natural to deceive;

Wander the Ministers of God, as chance
Giving to Memory help when she would weave

Opens a way for life, or consonance
A crown for Hope !—I dread the boasted lights Of faith invites. More welcome to no land
That all too often are but fiery blights,

The fugitives than to the British strand,
Killing the bud o'er which in vain we grieve. Where priest and layman with the vigilance
Go, seek, when Christmas snows discomfort bring, of true compassion greet them. Creed and test
The counter Spirit found in some gay church Vanish before the unreserved embrace
Green with fresh holly, every pew a perch Of catholic humanity :-distrest
In which the linnet or the thrush might sing,

They came,—and, while the moral tempest roars Merry and loud and safe from prying search, Throughout the Country they have left, our shores Strains offered only to the genial Spring.

Give to their Faith a fearless resting-place.





From low to high doth dissolution climb,
And sink from high to low, along a scale
Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail ;
A musical but melancholy chime,
Which they can hear who meddle not with crime,
Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care.
Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear
The longest date do melt like frosty rime,
That in the morning whitened hill and plain
And is no more; drop like the tower sublime
Of yesterday, which royally did wear
His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain
Some casual shout that broke the silent air,
Or the unimaginable touch of Time.

Tuus all things lead to Charity, secured
By them who blessed the soft and happy gale
That landward urged the great Deliverer's sail,
Till in the sunny bay his fleet was moored !
Propitious hour! had we, like them, endured
Sore stress of apprehension *, with a mind
Sickened by injuries, dreading worse designed,
From month to month trembling and unassured,
How had we then rejoiced! But we have felt,
As a loved substance, their futurity :
Good, which they dared not hope for, we have seen;
A State whose generous will through earth is dealt;
A State—which, balancing herself between
Licence and slavish order, dares be free.

* See Note.

* See Note.





But liberty, and triumphs on the Main,

The encircling ground, in native turf arrayed, And laurelled armies, not to be withstood — Is now by solemn consecration given What serve they? if, on transitory good

To social interests, and to favouring Heaven, Intent, and sedulous of abject gain,

And where the rugged colts their gambols played, The State (ah, surely not preserved in vain !) And wild deer bounded through the forest glade, Forbear to shape due channels which the Flood Unchecked as when by merry Outlaw driven, Of sacred truth may enter—till it brood

Shall hymns of praise resound at morn and even; O’er the wide realm, as o'er the Egyptian plain And soon, full soon, the lonely Sexton's spade The all-sustaining Nile. No more—the time Shall wound the tender sod. Encincture small, Is conscious of her want; through England's But infinite its grasp of weal and woe! bounds,

Hopes, fears, in never-ending ebb and flow;In rival haste, the wished-for Temples rise! The spousal trembling, and the 'dust to dust,' I hear their sabbath bells' harmonious chime The prayers, the contrite struggle, and the trust Float on the breeze—the heavenliest of all sounds That to the Almighty Father looks through all. That vale or hill prolongs or multiplies !




Be this the chosen site; the virgin sod,
Moistened from age to age by dewy eve,
Shall disappear, and grateful earth receive
The corner-stone from hands that build to God.
Yon reverend hawthorns, hardened to the rod
Of winter storms, yet budding cheerfully ;
Those forest oaks of Druid memory,
Shall long survive, to shelter the Abode
Of genuine Faith. Where, haply, ʼmid this band
Of daisies, shepherds sate of yore and wove
May-garlands, there let the holy altar stand
For kneeling adoration ;-while-above,
Broods, visibly portrayed, the mystic Dove,
That shall protect from blasphemy the Land.

OPEN your gates, ye everlasting Piles !
Types of the spiritual Church which God hath reared;
Not loth we quit the newly-hallowed sward
And humble altar, ʼmid your sumptuous aisles
To kneel, or thrid your intricate defiles,
Or down the nave to pace in motion slow;
Watching, with upward eye, the tall tower grow
And mount, at every step, with living wiles
Instinct-to rouse the heart and lead the will
By a bright ladder to the world above.
Open your gates, ye Monuments of love
Divine ! thou Lincoln, on thy sovereign hill !
Thou, stately York! and Ye, whose splendours cheer
Isis and Cam, to patient Science dear!




INSIDE OP KING'S COLLEGE CHAPEL, CAMBRIDGE. MINE ear has rung, my spirit sunk subdued, Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense, Sharing the strong emotion of the crowd,

With ill-matched aims the Architect who planned When each pale brow to dread hosannas bowed Albeit labouring for a scanty band While clouds of incense mounting veiled the rood, of white robed Scholars only—this immense That glimmered like a pine-tree dimly viewed And glorious Work of fine intelligence! Through Alpine vapours. Such appalling rite Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore Our Church prepares not, trusting to the might Of nicely-calculated less or more ; Of simple truth with grace divine imbued ; So deemed the man who fashioned for the sense Yet will we not conceal the precious Cross, These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof Like men ashamed: the Sun with his first smile Self-poised, and scooped into ten thousand cells, Shall greet that symbol crowning the low Pile : Where light and shade repose, where music dwells And the fresh air of incense-breathing morn Lingering—and wandering on as loth to die ; Shall wooingly embrace it; and green moss Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof Creep round its arms through centuries unborn. That they were born for immortality.

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What awful perspective ! while from our sight GLORY to God! and to the Power who came
With gradual stealth the lateral windows hide In filial duty, clothed with love divine,
Their Portraitures, their stone-work glimmers, That made his human tabernacle shine

Like Ocean burning with purpureal flame ;
In the soft chequerings of a sleepy light.

Or like the Alpine Mount, that takes its name Martyr, or King, or sainted Eremite,

From roseate hues, far kenned at morn and even, Whoe'er ye be, that thus, yourselves unseen, In hours of peace, or when the storm is driven Imbue your prison-bars with solemn sheen, Along the nether region's rugged frame ! Shine on, until ye fade with coming Night !- Earth prompts—Heaven urges ; let us seek the But, from the arms of silence-list ! O list !

light, The music bursteth into second life ;

Studious of that pure intercourse begun The notes luxuriate, every stone is kissed

When first our infant brows their lustre won ; By sound, or ghost of sound, in mazy strife ; So, like the Mountain, may we grow more bright Heart-thrilling strains, that cast, before the eye From unimpeded commerce with the Sun, Of the devout, a veil of ecstasy!

At the approach of all-involving night.

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They dreamt not of a perishable home
Who thus could build. Be mine, in hours of fear
Or grovelling thought, to seek a refuge here ;
Or through the aisles of Westminster to roam;
Where bubbles burst, and folly's dancing foam
Melts, if it cross the threshold ; where the wreath
Of awe-struck wisdom droops : or let my path
Lead to that younger Pile, whose sky-like dome
Hath typified by reach of daring art
Infinity's embrace ; whose guardian crest,
The silent Cross, among the stars shall spread
As now, when She hath also seen her breast
Filled with mementos, satiate with its part
Of grateful England's overflowing Dead.

Why sleeps the future, as a snake enrolled,
Coil within coil, at noon-tide? For the WORD
Yields, if with unpresumptuous faith explored,
Power at whose touch the sluggard shall unfold
His drowsy rings. Look forth !-that Stream

That STREAM upon whose bosom we have passed
Floating at ease while nations have effaced
Nations, and Death has gathered to his fold
Long lines of mighty Kings-look forth, my Soul !
(Nor in this vision be thou slow to trust)
The living Waters, less and less by guilt
Stained and polluted, brighten as they roll,
Till they have reached the eternal City-built
For the perfected Spirits of the just !








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