Chapter 6

Until on the Mount, with the morn they have found Him-- Christ, the long sought--they have found Him at length, With their sick and their stricken, in faith they flock round Him, As sighing He looks up to Heaven for strength.

He has touched the deaf ears and the blind eyes anointed-- And straightway they hear Him and straightway they see; Laid hands on the lame and they leap, supple-jointed, The devils denounced and affrighted they flee.

Yea? for their faith, from each life-long affliction, Yea, for their faith from their sins they are freed, And therefore have earned His divine benediction--

* * * * *

Stretch forth Thy hand, for as sore is our need.

Lord! we are deaf, we are dumb, lost in blindness, Lepers and lame and by demons possessed! Lord, we are dead! of Thine infinite kindness Restore us, redeem! bear us home on Thy breast.

THE SOWER

A Sower went forth to sow, But His seed on the wayside showered; A bird-flock out of the air flashed low And the goodly grain devoured.

A Sower went forth to sow, O'er hid rocks plying his toil; The seed leaped up at the warm sun's glow, But withered for lack of soil.

A Sower went forth to sow, And his seed took steadfast root; But flaming poppies and thorns in row Sprang up and strangled the fruit.

A Sower went forth to sow, And at last his joy he found; For his good seed's generous overflow Sank deep into gracious ground.

Lord, when we look back on our lives, With penitent sighs and tears, Our evil that with Thee strives and strives In Thy parable's truth appears.

As the wayside hard were our hearts, Where Thy good seed lightly lay, For the Devil's flock, as it downward darts, To bruise and to bear away.

Thy winged words falling nigher Sprang up in our souls with haste, But they could not endure temptation's fire And withered and went to waste.

Within us Thy word once more Thou sowest, but--sore beset With worldly weeds--for Thy threshing floor Shall it ever ripen yet?

Yea, Lord, it shall if Thou please, In passionate, patient prayer, To draw the nation upon its knees And fill it with Heavenly care.

And so shall we all arise In the joy of a soul's re-birth To hold a communion with the skies That shall bring down Heaven to earth.

THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN

(From the Scotch Gaelic)

Tedious grew the time to me Within the Courts of Blessing; My secure felicity, For folly I forswore; Vain delusion wrought my woe Till now, in want distressing, I go begging to and fro Upon an alien shore.

In my dear old home of peace, Around my father's table Many a servant sits at ease And eats and drinks his fill; While within a filthy stall With loathsome swine I stable, Sin-defiled and scorned of all To starve on husk and swill.

Ah, how well I mind me Of the happy days gone over! Love was then behind me, Before me, and around; Then, light as air, I leapt, A laughing little rover, Now dull and heavy-stepped I pace this desert ground.

Sin with flattering offers came; Against my Sire rebelling I yielded my good name At the Tempter's easy smile; In fields that were not ours, Brighter blooming, richer smelling, I ravished virgin flowers With a heart full of guile.

'Twas thus an open shame In the sight of all the Noble, Yea! a monster I became, Till my gold ceased to flow, And my fine fair-weather friends Turned their backs upon my trouble. Now an outcast to Earth's ends Under misery I go.

Yet though bitter my disgrace, Than every ill severer Is the thought of the face Of the Sire for whom I long. I shall see Him no more Though to me he now is dearer Than he ever was, before I wrought him such wrong.

And yet ere I die I will journey forth to meet him. Home I will hie, For he yet may be won. For Pardon and Peace My soul will entreat him, "Father, have grace On thy Prodigal Son!"

Could I get near enough To send him a message-- I keeping far off-- He would not say me nay. In some little nook He would find me a living And let none be driving His shamed son away.

The Penitent arose, His scalding tears blinding him; Hope's ray lit his way As homeward he pressed. Afar off his father's Fond eyes are finding him, And the old man gathers His boy to his breast.

ST. MARY MAGDALEN

They who have loved the most The most have been forgiven, And with the Devil's host Most mightily have striven. And so it was of old With her, once all unclean, Now of the saints white-stoled-- Mary, the Magdalen. For though in Satan's power She seemed for ever fast, Her Saviour in one hour Seven devils from her cast.

O'erburthened by the weight Of her black bosom sin, As Christ with Simon sate At meat, she had stolen in. Toward her Lord she drew; She knelt by Him unchid; The latchet of His shoe Her trembling hands undid. Foot-water none was by Nor towel, as was meet, To comfort and to dry His hot way-weary feet; But with her blinding tears She bathes them now instead, And dries them with the hairs Of her abased head.

And so, when Simon looked, And pondered, evil-eyed, No longer Jesus brooked His thought, but thus replied; "Simon, no kiss of peace Thou gav'st me at thy door, No oil, my head to ease, Didst thou upon it pour, Nay, for thy bidden guest So little hast thou cared, His weary feet to rest No bath hadst thou prepared; Yet hath this woman here, By thee with scorn decried, Washed them with many a tear, And with her tresses dried, And given them, from her store Of spikenard, cool relief, And kissed them o'er and o'er In penitential grief. Therefore her joy begins, Her prayer is heard in heaven; Though many are her sins, They all shall be forgiven!" Scant mercy he receives Whose love for God is small; But he whom God forgives The most, loves most of all.

IV. CHURCH FESTIVALS

A CHRISTMAS COMMUNION HYMN

(After the Meditation for Communion on Christmas Day in _Eucharistica_)

Welcome, thrice blessed day! thrice blessed hour! To hail you, every heart to Heaven is climbing, The while the snow in softly circling shower Draws down to meet them 'mid the joybell's chiming; Like blessed morsels of that manna bread Wherewith of old the Lord His People fed.

Welcome, dear dawn! if now no Angel Song With sudden ravishing acclaim salute thee, Yet everywhere Our Church's white-robed throng Shall to thy first exultancy transmute thee. Peace and Good Will again with holy mirth Proclaiming to the Universal Earth.

Then, too, my soul, forth summoning all thy powers, Thyself from worldly schemes and wishes sunder, To worship and admire this hour of hours That is all miracle and the height of wonder; Infinity itself shrinks to a span, Since God, remaining God, becometh Man.

Here is a mother with no mortal mate! Here is a son that hath no earthly father! A graft, on Adam's stock incorporate, Who yet therefrom no mortal taint can gather! A Babe to whom a new and glorious Star Earth's Wisest Kings for worship draws from far.

All hail! then, sweetest Saviour, thrice all hail! The King of Kings, by David's prophesying; Yet on no royal couch Thy first weak wail Awoke, for in a manger Thou wast lying: Still for that condescension more a King Than having all the whole world's wealth could bring.

Thus with Earth's humblest brothering thy estate, Thus to Earth's mightiest giving meek example, The lowly Thou exaltest to be great, The proud thou teachest on their pride to trample. So, turning poor men rich and rich men poor, For each Thou makest his salvation sure.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL OF THE EPIPHANY

Now who are these who from afar Follow yon solitary star? Whence journey they and what the quest That turns their faces towards the west?

Three Kings are they and Mages three, Who in their camel company, With offerings rich, still onward press, Across the wintry wilderness.

Nine months agone, Isaiah's page They pondered o'er with questioning sage, When underneath their wondering eyes His words were altered in this wise:

"Behold a Virgin hath conceived!" They saw, and marvelled, and believed, And hasted forth upon the morn To greet the King that should be born.

Afar they fared by land and flood, The while they saw, with bounding blood, A star that did all stars exceed In wonder still their footsteps lead.

Until, amid the falling snow, They found the Highest laid most low; His palace but a cattle shed, A manger for His princely bed.

And there they bent with holy joy And hope before the new-born Boy; And opened, at His infant feet, Their royal offerings rich and sweet.

A FOURTEENTH-CENTURY CAROL

When God came down on Earth to dwell, Great cold befell: Yet Mary on the road hath seen A fig-tree green. Said Joseph: "O Mary, let the fruit hang; For thirty good mile we have still to gang, Lest we be late!"

When Mary unto a village door At last did win, She thus bespake the cottager: "Sir, take us in! Since for this young Child's tender sake A pitying heart must surely ache, The night's so cold."

"You're welcome all to my ox-stall!" The good man cried. But in the middle of the night He rose and sighed: "Where are ye now, poor hapless ones? That ye're not frozen to the bones, I marvel much."

Then back into his house he runs From forth the byre-- "Rouse up, rouse up, my dearest wife, And light a fire, As fine as ever sent up smoke, Whereat these poor and perishing folk May comfort them."

Mary with joy into the house The Babe has brought, Joseph her just and faithful spouse, His wallet sought. Therefrom he took a kettle small; Some snow the Child therein let fall, And lo 'tis flour!

Thereto the Babe has added ice; 'Tis sugar straight! Now water drops, and, in a trice, 'Tis milk most sweet! The kettle, fast as you could look, They hung upon the kitchen hook A meal to cook.

The godly Joseph carved a spoon From out a brand; To ivory it changed full soon And adamant. When Mary gave the Babe the food, He became Jesus, Son of God. Before their eyes.

EARTH'S EASTER

She the long sought for and sighed for in vain, the enchantress immortal-- Spring, in our very despair, out of inviolate air Charioting summons the Eastern gate; the obedient portal Opes, and a vision blest yields to the wondering West.

High on her crystal car she trembles in halycon tissues, Gently with golden curb checking her coursers superb-- All her ethereal beauty elate with Love's infinite issues, Whilst this enchantment slips forth from her sibylline lips: "Herb and tree in your kinds, free lives of the mountain and forest, Shoals of the stream and the flood, flights of the welkin and wood, Herd and flock of the field, and ye, whose need is the sorest, Suffering spirits of men, lo! I am with you again. Fear no more for the tyrant hoar as he rushes to battle Armoured in ice, and darts lance after lance at your hearts, Fear not his flaming bolts as they hurtle with horrible rattle Out of the lurid inane fulminant over the plain. Fear not his wizardry white that circles and circles and settles Stealthily hour by hour, feathery flower upon flower, Over the spell-bound sleeper, till last the pitiless petals Darkly in icy death stifle his labouring breath.

"Late upon yon white height the despot his fugitives rallied, Deeming the crest snow-crowned still inaccessibly frowned; Idly, for instant upon him my bright-speared chivalry sallied, Smote and far into the North swept him discomfited forth, Therefore, from root unto hole, from hole into burgeoning branches, Tendril and tassel and cup now let the ichor leap up: Therefore, with flowering drift and with fluttering bloom avalanches, Snowdrop and silver thorn laugh baffled winter to scorn; Primrose, daffodil, cowslip, shine back to my shimmering sandals, Hyacinth host, o'er the green flash your cerulean sheen, Lilac, your perfumed lamps, light, chestnut, your clustering candles, Broom and laburnum, untold torches of tremulous gold! Therefore gold-gather again from the honeyed heath and the bean field, Snatching no instant of ease, bright, multitudinous bees! Therefore, ye butterflies, float and flicker from garden to green field, Flicker and float and stay, settle and sip and away!

"Therefore race it and chase it, ye colts, in the emerald meadow! Round your serious dams frisk, ye fantastical lambs! Therefore, bird unto bird, from the woodland's wavering shadow Pipe and 'plain and protest, flutter together and nest.

"Therefore, ye skylarks, in shivering circle still higher and higher Soar, and the palpitant blue drench with delirious dew. Therefore, nightingale, lost in the leaves, or lone on the brier, Under the magic moon lift your tumultuous tune. Therefore refresh you, faint hearts, take comfort, ye souls sorrow-stricken, Winning from nature relief, courage and counsel in grief, Judging that He, whose handmaid I am, out of death to requicken Year after year His earth into more exquisite birth, Shadows thereby to your souls through what drear and perilous places Into what Paradise blest beacons His searching behest-- Even the Heaven of Heavens where fond, long-hungered-for faces Into your own shall shine radiant with rapture divine."

EASTER DAY, 1915

I

The stars die out on Avon's watchful breast, While simple shepherds climb through shadows grey, With beating bosoms up the Wrekin's Crest To see the sun "dance in" an Easter Day Whose dawning consummates three centuries-- Since Shakespeare's death and entrance to the skies-- Resolved the radiant miracle not to miss Reserved alone to earliest opened eyes. We, too, with faces set towards the East, Our joyful orison offerings yielding up Keep with our risen Lord His Pascal feast From Paten Blest and Consecrated Cup, And give Him thanks Who of all realms of Earth Made England richest by her Shakespeare's birth.

II

"St. George for Merrie England!" let us cry And each a red rose pin upon his breast, Then face the foe with fearless front and eye Through all our frowning leaguer in the West. For not alone his Patron Day it is Wherefrom our noble George hath drawn his name; Three centuries and a half gone by ere this; By Shakespeare's birth it won a second fame. A greater glory is its crown to-day Since at its first and faintest uttered breath A mighty angel rolled the stone away That sealed His tomb Who captive now leads death, And thereby did the great example give. That they who die for others most shall live.

THE ASCENSION

When Christ their Lord, to Heaven upraised, Was wafted from the Apostles' sight, And upwards wistfully they gazed Into the far, blue Infinite, Behold two men in white apparel dressed Who thus bespake them on the mountain crest:

"Why stand ye, men of Galilee, So sadly gazing on the skies? For this same Jesus, whom ye see Caught in the clouds to Paradise, Shall in like manner from the starry height Return again to greet your joyful sight."

Would, O Lord Jesus! thus to hear Thy farewell words we too had met, Among Thine own Disciples dear, Upon the brow of Olivet! Yet are we blest, though of that joy bereaved, Who having seen Thee not, have yet believed.

O, then in each succeeding year When Thine Ascension Day draws round, With hearts so full of holy fear May we within Thy Church be found, That in the spirit we may see Thee rise And bless us with pierced hands from out the skies!

Christ, if our gaze for ever thus Is fixed upon Thy Heavenward way, Death shall but bring to each of us At last his soul's Ascension Day, Till in Thy mercy Thou descend once more And quick and dead to meet Thy coming soar.

WHITSUNTIDE

When Christ from off the mountain crest Before their marvelling eyes, Whilst His disciples still He blessed, Was caught into the skies-- The Angels, whose harmonious breath Erstwhile proclaimed His birth, Now hailed Him Victor over Death, Redeemer of the Earth; "Lift up your heads, ye Heavenly Gates!" Rang forth their joyful strain; "For lo! the King of Glory waits To enter you again!"

Thus, heralded, from Heaven to Heaven Magnifical He goes, Until the last of all the seven To greet His coming glows; While He the Eternal long left lone To meet Him doth upstand, Then sets His Son upon the Throne Once more at His right hand. Whereat with one triumphal hymn Majestically blent The Cherubim and Seraphim The Universe have rent. Last, from the splendrous mercy seat, Of Father and of Son, To Earth, their purpose to complete, Descends the Promised One.

Like to a mighty rushing wind He falls, subduing space, To where Christ's chosen with one mind Are gathered in one place. With tongues of flame He lights on each, Whose wonder-working spell Fires them in every human speech Heaven's message forth to tell. The coward brood of doubt and fear And hesitance are fled; Before the quickening Comforter They rise as from the dead. The bolted door is yawning wide, The barred gate backward flung; And forth unarmed and fearless-eyed, They fare their foes among.

HARVEST HYMN

CAST THY BREAD UPON THE WATERS

O ye weeping sons and daughters, Trust the Heavenly Harvest Giver, Cast your bread upon the waters Of His overflowing river; Cast the good seed, nothing doubting That your tears shall turn to praise, Ye shall yet behold it sprouting Heavenward, after many days.

Hope and love, long frost-withholden, Into laughing life upleaping, Blade and ear, from green to golden, Yet shall ripen for your reaping; Till some radiant summer morrow, Wheresoe'er your sickle cleaves, Ye, who sow to-day in sorrow, Shout for joy amid your sheaves.

O then, learn the inmost meaning Of your harvest's rich redundance, Bid the famished ones come gleaning In the fields of your abundance; So in overrunning measure Shall your thankful fellow-men Give you, of their hearts' hid treasure, All your good gifts back again.

Till, ye faithful sons and daughters, God your golden lives deliver, Like the good grain to the waters Of death's overflowing river; Till up-caught amid His sleepers, Heavenly fruit from earthly loam, At the last, His angel reapers On their bosoms bear you home.

V. GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANTS

FATHER O'FLYNN

Of priests we can offer a charming variety, Far renowned for larning and piety; Still, I'd advance you, widout impropriety, Father O'Flynn as the flower of them all.

_Chorus_: Here's a health to you, Father O'Flynn, Slainté and slainté, and slainté agin; Powerfullest preacher, and Tenderest teacher, and Kindliest creature in ould Donegal.

Don't talk of your Provost and Fellows of Trinity, Famous for ever for Greek and Latinity, Dad, and the divels and all at Divinity, Father O'Flynn 'd make hares of them all. Come, I vinture to give you my word, Never the likes of his logic was heard. Down from Mythology Into Thayology, Troth! and Conchology, if he'd the call. _Chorus_: Here's a health to you, etc.

Och! Father O'Flynn, you've the wonderful way wid you, All the ould sinners are wishful to pray wid you, All the young childer are wild for to play wid you, You've such a way wid you, Father avick! Still, for all you've so gentle a soul, Gad, you've your flock in the grandest conthroul Checkin' the crazy ones, Coaxin' onaisy ones, Liftin' the lazy ones on wid the stick. _Chorus_: Here's a health to you, etc.

And though quite avoidin' all foolish frivolity, Still at all saisons of innocent jollity, Where was the play-boy could claim an equality At comicality, Father, wid you? Once the Bishop looked grave at your jest, Till this remark set him off wid the rest: "Is it lave gaiety All to the laity? Cannot the clargy be Irishmen too?" _Chorus_: Here's a health to you, etc.

LADY GWENNY

County by county for beauty and bounty Go search! and this pound to a penny, When you've one woman to show us as human And lovely as our Lady Gwenny; For she has the scorn for all scorners, And she has the tear for all mourners, Yet joying with joy, With no crabb'd annoy To pull down her mouth at the corners.

Up with the lark in the pasture you'll meet with her, Songs like his own sweetly trilling, Carrying now for some poor folk a treat with her, Small mouths with lollypops filling: And while, as he stands in a puzzle, She strokes the fierce bull on his muzzle, The calves and the lambs Run deserting their dams In her kind hands their noses to nuzzle.

Now with her maidens a sweet Cymric cadence She leads, just to lighten their sewing; Now at the farm, her food basket on arm, She has set all the cock'rels a-crowing. The turkey-cock strutting and strumming, His bagpipe puts by at her humming, And even the old gander, The fowl-yard's commander, He winks his sly eye at her coming.

Never to wandering minstrel or pondering Poet her castle gate closes: Ever her kindly cheer--ever her praise sincere Falls like the dew on faint roses. And when her Pennillions rhyming She mates to her triple harp's chiming, In her green Gorsedd gown-- The half of the town Up the fences to hear her are climbing.

Men in all fashions have pleaded their passions-- The scholar, the saint, and the sinner, Pleaded in vain Lady Gwenny to gain,-- For only a hero shall win her: And to share his strong work and sweet leisure He'll have no keen chaser of pleasure, But a loving young beauty With a soul set on duty, And a heart full of heaven's hid treasure.

OLD DOCTOR MACK

Ye may tramp the world over from Delhi to Dover, And sail the salt say from Archangel to Arragon; Circumvint back through the whole Zodiack, But to ould Docther Mack ye can't furnish a paragon. Have ye the dropsy, the gout, the autopsy? Fresh livers and limbs instantaneous he'll shape yez; No way infarior in skill, but suparior And lineal postarior to ould Aysculapius.

_Chorus_: He and his wig wid the curls so carroty, Aigle eye and complexion clarety; Here's to his health, Honour and wealth, The king of his kind and the cream of all charity.

How the rich and the poor, to consult for a cure, Crowd on to his door in their carts and their carriages, Showin' their tongues or unlacin' their lungs, For divel wan sympton the docther disparages, Troth an' he'll tumble for high or for humble From his warm feather-bed wid no cross contrariety; Makin' as light of nursin' all night The beggar in rags as the belle of society.

_Chorus_: He and his wig wid the curls, etc.