Part 3

And when he marked me downcast utterly Where foul I sat and faint, Then more than ever Christ-like kindled he; And welcomed me as I had been a saint, Tenderly stooping low to comfort me.

Christ bade him, “Do thou likewise.” Wherefore he Waxed zealous to acquaint His soul with sin and sorrow, if so be He might retrieve some latent saint:— “Lo, I, with the child God hath given to me!”

MID-LENT.

Is any grieved or tired? Yea, by God’s Will: Surely God’s Will alone is good and best: O weary man, in weariness take rest, O hungry man, by hunger feast thy fill. Discern thy good beneath a mask of ill, Or build of loneliness thy secret nest: At noon take heart, being mindful of the west, At night wake hope, for dawn advances still. At night wake hope. Poor soul, in such sore need Of wakening and of girding up anew, Hast thou that hope which fainting doth pursue? No saint but hath pursued and hath been faint; Bid love wake hope, for both thy steps shall speed, Still faint yet still pursuing, O thou saint.

PASSIONTIDE.

It is the greatness of Thy love, dear Lord, that we would celebrate With sevenfold powers. Our love at best is cold and poor, at best unseemly for Thy state, This best of ours. Creatures that die, we yet are such as Thine own hands deigned to create: We frail as flowers, We bitter bondslaves ransomed at a price incomparably great To grace Heaven’s bowers.

Thou callest: “Come at once”—and still Thou callest us: “Come late, tho’ late”— (The moments fly)— “Come, every one that thirsteth, come”—“Come prove Me, knocking at My gate”— (Some souls draw nigh!)— “Come thou who waiting seekest Me”—“Come thou for whom I seek and wait”— (Why will we die?)— “Come and repent: come and amend: come joy the joys unsatiate”— ——(Christ passeth by...)— Lord, pass not by—I come—and I—and I. Amen.

PALM SUNDAY.

“He treadeth the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God.”

I lift mine eyes, and see Thee, tender Lord, in pain upon the tree, Athirst for my sake and athirst for me.

“Yea, look upon Me there, Compassed with thorns and bleeding everywhere, For thy sake bearing all, and glad to bear.”

I lift my heart to pray: Thou Who didst love me all that darkened day, Wilt Thou not love me to the end alway?

“Yea, thee My wandering sheep, Yea, thee My scarlet sinner slow to weep, Come to Me, I will love thee and will keep.”

Yet am I racked with fear: Behold the unending outer darkness drear, Behold the gulf unbridgeable and near!

“Nay, fix thy heart, thine eyes, Thy hope upon My boundless sacrifice: Will I lose lightly one so dear-bought prize?”

Ah, Lord; it is not Thou, Thou that wilt fail; yet woe is me, for how Shall I endure who half am failing now?

“Nay, weld thy resolute will To Mine: glance not aside for good or ill: I love thee; trust Me still and love Me still.”

Yet Thou Thyself hast said, When Thou shalt sift the living from the dead Some must depart shamed and uncomforted.

“Judge not before that day: Trust Me with all thy heart, even tho’ I slay: Trust Me in love, trust on, love on, and pray.”

MONDAY IN HOLY WEEK.

“The Voice of my Beloved.”

Once I ached for thy dear sake: Wilt thou cause Me now to ache? Once I bled for thee in pain: Wilt thou rend My Heart again? Crown of thorns and shameful tree, Bitter death I bore for thee, Bore My Cross to carry thee, And wilt thou have nought of Me?

TUESDAY IN HOLY WEEK.

By Thy long-drawn anguish to atone, Jesus Christ, show mercy on Thine own: Jesus Christ, show mercy and atone Not for other sake except Thine own.

Thou Who thirsting on the Cross didst see All mankind and all I love and me, Still from Heaven look down in love and see All mankind and all I love and me.

WEDNESDAY IN HOLY WEEK.

Man’s life is death. Yet Christ endured to live, Preaching and teaching, toiling to and fro, Few men accepting what He yearned to give, Few men with eyes to know His Face, that Face of Love He stooped to show.

Man’s death is life. For Christ endured to die In slow unuttered weariness of pain, A curse and an astonishment, passed by, Pointed at, mocked again By men for whom He shed His Blood—in vain?

MAUNDY THURSDAY.

“And the Vine said...Should I leave my wine, which cheereth God and man, and go to be promotes over the trees?”

The great Vine left its glory to reign as Forest King. “Nay,” quoth the lofty forest trees, “we will not have this thing; We will not have this supple one enring us with its ring. Lo, from immemorial time our might towers shadowing: Not we were born to curve and droop, not we to climb and cling: We buffet back the buffeting wind, tough to its buffeting: We screen great beasts, the wild fowl build in our heads and sing, Every bird of every feather from off our tops takes wing: I a king, and thou a king, and what king shall be our king?”

Nevertheless the great Vine stooped to be the Forest King, While the forest swayed and murmured like seas that are tempesting: Stooped and drooped with thousand tendrils in thirsty languishing; Bowed to earth and lay on earth for earth’s replenishing; Put off sweetness, tasted bitterness, endured time’s fashioning; Put off life and put on death: and lo! it was all to bring All its fellows down to a death which hath lost the sting, All its fellows up to a life in endless triumphing,— I a king, and thou a king, and this King to be our King.

GOOD FRIDAY MORNING.

“Bearing His Cross.”

Up Thy Hill of Sorrows Thou all alone, Jesus, man’s Redeemer, Climbing to a Throne: Thro’ the world triumphant, Thro’ the Church in pain, Which think to look upon Thee No more again.

Upon my hill of sorrows I, Lord, with Thee, Cheered, upheld, yea, carried, If a need should be: Cheered, upheld, yea, carried, Never left alone, Carried in Thy heart of hearts To a throne.

GOOD FRIDAY.

Lord Jesus Christ, grown faint upon the Cross, A sorrow beyond sorrow in Thy look, The unutterable craving for my soul: Thy love of me sufficed To load upon Thee and make good my loss In face of darkened heaven and earth that shook:— In face of earth and heaven, take Thou my whole Heart, O Lord Jesus Christ.

GOOD FRIDAY EVENING.

“Bring forth the Spear.”

No Cherub’s heart or hand for us might ache, No Seraph’s heart of fire had half sufficed: Thine own were pierced and broken for our sake, O Jesus Christ.

Therefore we love Thee with our faint good-will, We crave to love Thee not as heretofore. To love Thee much, to love Thee more, and still More and yet more.

“A bundle of myrrh is my Well-beloved unto me.”

Thy Cross cruciferous doth flower in all And every cross, dear Lord, assigned to us: Ours lowly-statured crosses; Thine how tall, Thy Cross cruciferous.

Thy Cross alone life-giving, glorious: For love of Thine, souls love their own when small, Easy and light, or great and ponderous.

Since deep calls deep, Lord, hearken when we call; When cross calls Cross racking and emulous:— Remember us with him who shared Thy gall, Thy Cross cruciferous.

EASTER EVEN.

The tempest over and gone, the calm begun, Lo, “it is finished” and the Strong Man sleeps: All stars keep vigil watching for the sun, The moon her vigil keeps.

A garden full of silence and of dew Beside a virgin cave and entrance stone: Surely a garden full of Angels too, Wondering, on watch, alone.

They who cry “Holy, Holy, Holy,” still Veiling their faces round God’s Throne above, May well keep vigil on this heavenly hill And cry their cry of love,

Adoring God in His new mystery Of Love more deep than bell, more strong than death; Until the day break and the shadows flee, The Shaking and the Breath.

“Our Church palms are budding willow twigs.”

While Christ lay dead the widowed world Wore willow green for hope undone: Till, when bright Easter dews impearled The chilly burial earth, All north and south, all east and west, Flushed rosy in the arising sun; Hope laughed, and Faith resumed her rest, And Love remembered mirth.

EASTER DAY.

Words cannot utter Christ His returning: Mankind, keep jubilee, Strip off your mourning, Crown you with garlands, Set your lamps burning.

Speech is left speechless; Set you to singing, Fling your hearts open wide, Set your bells ringing: Christ the Chief Reaper Comes, His sheaf bringing.

Earth wakes her song-birds, Puts on her flowers, Leads out her lambkins, Builds up her bowers: This is man’s spousal day, Christ’s day and ours.

EASTER MONDAY.

Out in the rain a world is growing green, On half the trees quick buds are seen Where glued-up buds have been. Out in the rain God’s Acre stretches green, Its harvest quick tho’ still unseen: For there the Life hath been.

If Christ hath died His brethren well may die, Sing in the gale of death, lay by This life without a sigh: For Christ hath died and good it is to die; To sleep whenso He lays us by, Then wake without a sigh.

Yea, Christ hath died, yea, Christ is risen again: Wherefore both life and death grow plain To us who wax and wane; For Christ Who rose shall die no more again: Amen: till He makes all things plain Let us wax on and wane.

EASTER TUESDAY.

“Together with my dead body shall they arise.”

Shall my dead body arise? then amen and yea On track of a home beyond the uttermost skies Together with my dead body shall they.

We know the way: thank God Who hath showed us the way! Jesus Christ our Way to beautiful Paradise, Jesus Christ the Same for ever, the Same to-day.

Five Virgins replenish with oil their lamps, being wise, Five Virgins awaiting the Bridegroom watch and pray: And if I one day spring from my grave to the prize, Together with my dead body shall they.

ROGATIONTIDE.

Who scatters tares shall reap no wheat, But go hungry while others eat.

Who sows the wind shall not reap grain; The sown wind whirleth back again.

What God opens must open be, Tho’ man pile the sand of the sea.

What God shuts is opened no more, Tho’ man weary himself to find the door.

ASCENSION EVE.

O Lord Almighty, Who hast formed us weak, With us whom Thou hast formed deal fatherly; Be found of us whom Thou hast deigned to seek, Be found that we the more may seek for Thee; Lord, speak and grant us ears to hear Thee speak Lord, come to us and grant us eyes to see; Lord, make us meek, for Thou Thyself art meek; Lord, Thou art Love, fill us with charity. O Thou the Life of living and of dead, Who givest more the more Thyself hast given, Suffice us as Thy saints Thou hast sufficed; That beautified, replenished, comforted, Still gazing off from earth and up at heaven We may pursue Thy steps, Lord Jesus Christ.

ASCENSION DAY.

“A Cloud received Him out of their sight.”

When Christ went up to Heaven the Apostles stayed Gazing at Heaven with souls and wills on fire, Their hearts on flight along the track He made, Winged by desire.

Their silence spake: “Lord, why not follow Thee? Home is not home without Thy Blessed Face, Life is not life. Remember, Lord, and see, Look back, embrace.

“Earth is one desert waste of banishment, Life is one long-drawn anguish of decay. Where Thou wert wont to go we also went: Why not to-day?”

Nevertheless a cloud cut off their gaze: They tarry to build up Jerusalem, Watching for Him, while thro’ the appointed days He watches them.

They do His Will, and doing it rejoice, Patiently glad to spend and to be spent: Still He speaks to them, still they hear His Voice And are content.

For as a cloud received Him from their sight, So with a cloud will He return ere long: Therefore they stand on guard by day, by night, Strenuous and strong.

They do, they dare, they beyond seven times seven Forgive, they cry God’s mighty word aloud: Yet sometimes haply lift tired eyes to Heaven— “Is that His cloud?”

WHITSUN EVE.

“As many as I love.”—Ah, Lord, Who lovest all, If thus it is with Thee why sit remote above, Beholding from afar, stumbling and marred and small, So many Thou dost love?

Whom sin and sorrow make their worn reluctant thrall; Who fain would flee away but lack the wings of dove; Who long for love and rest; who look to Thee, and call To Thee for rest and love.

WHITSUN DAY.

“When the day of Pentecost was fully come.”

At sound as of rushing wind, and sight as of fire, Lo! flesh and blood made spirit and fiery flame, Ambassadors in Christ’s and the Father’s Name, To woo back a world’s desire.

These men chose death for their life and shame for their boast, For fear courage, for doubt intuition of faith, Chose love that is strong as death and stronger than death In the power of the Holy Ghost.

WHITSUN MONDAY.

“A pure River of Water of Life.”

We know not a voice of that River, If vocal or silent it be, Where for ever and ever and ever It flows to no sea.

More deep than the seas is that River, More full than their manifold tides, Where for ever and ever and ever It flows and abides.

Pure gold is the bed of that River (The gold of that land is the best), Where for ever and ever and ever It flows on at rest.

Oh goodly the banks of that River, Oh goodly the fruits that they bear, Where for ever and ever and ever It flows and is fair.

For lo! on each bank of that River The Tree of Life life-giving grows, Where for ever and ever and ever The Pure River flows.

WHITSUN TUESDAY.

Lord Jesus Christ, our Wisdom and our Rest, Who wisely dost reveal and wisely hide, Grant us such grace in wisdom to abide According to Thy Will whose Will is best. Contented with Thine uttermost behest, Too sweet for envy and too high for pride; All simple-souled, dove-hearted and dove-eyed, Soft-voiced, and satisfied in humble nest. Wondering at the bounty of Thy Love Which gives us wings of silver and of gold; Wings folded close, yet ready to unfold When Thou shalt say, “Winter is past and gone:” When Thou shalt say, “Spouse, sister, love and dove, Come hither, sit with Me upon My Throne.”

TRINITY SUNDAY.

My God, Thyself being Love Thy heart is love, And love Thy Will and love Thy Word to us, Whether Thou show us depths calamitous Or heights and flights of rapturous peace above. O Christ the Lamb, O Holy Ghost the Dove, Reveal the Almighty Father unto us; That we may tread Thy courts felicitous, Loving Who loves us, for our God is Love. Lo, if our God be Love thro’ heaven’s long day, Love is He thro’ our mortal pilgrimage, Love was He thro’ all aeons that are told. We change, but Thou remainest; for Thine age Is, Was, and Is to come, nor new nor old; We change, but Thou remainest; yea and yea!

CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL.

O blessed Paul elect to grace, Arise and wash away thy sin, Anoint thy head and wash thy face, Thy gracious course begin. To start thee on thy outrunning race Christ shows the splendour of His Face: What will that Face of splendour be When at the goal He welcomes thee?

In weariness and painfulness St. Paul Served God and pleased Him: after-saints no less Can wait on and can please Him, one and all In weariness and painfulness,

By faith and hope triumphant thro distress: Not with the rankling service of a thrall; But even as loving children trust and bless.

Weep and rejoice, answering their Father’s call, Work with tired hands, and forward upward press On sore tired feet still rising when they fall, In weariness and painfulness.

VIGIL OF THE PRESENTATION.

Long and dark the nights, dim and short the days, Mounting weary heights on our weary ways, Thee our God we praise. Scaling heavenly heights by unearthly ways, Thee our God we praise all our nights and days, Thee our God we praise.

FEAST OF THE PRESENTATION.

O firstfruits of our grain, Infant and Lamb appointed to be slain, A Virgin and two doves were all Thy train, With one old man for state, When Thou didst enter first Thy Father’s gate.

Since then Thy train hath been Freeman and bondman, bishop, king and queen, With flaming candles and with garlands green: Oh happy all who wait One day or thousand days around Thy gate.

And these have offered Thee, Beside their hearts, great stores for charity, Gold, frankincense and myrrh; if such may be For savour or for state Within the threshold of Thy golden gate.

Then snowdrops and my heart I’ll bring, to find those blacker than Thou art: Yet, loving Lord, accept us in good part; And give me grace to wait A bruised reed bowed low before Thy gate.

THE PURIFICATION OF ST. MARY THE VIRGIN.

Purity born of a Maid: Was such a Virgin defiled? Nay, by no shade of a shade. She offered her gift of pure love, A dove with a fair fellow-dove. She offered her Innocent Child The Essence and Author of Love; The Lamb that indwelt by the Dove Was spotless and holy and mild; More pure than all other, More pure than His Mother, Her God and Redeemer and Child.

VIGIL OF THE ANNUNCIATION.

All weareth, all wasteth, All flitteth, all hasteth, All of flesh and time:— Sound, sweet heavenly chime, Ring in the unutterable eternal prime.

Man hopeth, man feareth, Man droopeth:—Christ cheereth, Compassing release, Comforting with peace, Promising rest where strife and anguish cease.

Saints waking, saints sleeping, Rest well in safe keeping; Well they rest to-day While they watch and pray,— But their to-morrow’s rest what tongue shall say?

FEAST OF THE ANNUNCIATION.

Whereto shall we liken this Blessed Mary Virgin, Fruitful shoot from Jesse’s root graciously emerging? Lily we might call her, but Christ alone is white; Rose delicious, but that Jesus is the one Delight; Flower of women, but her Firstborn is mankind’s one flower: He the Sun lights up all moons thro’ their radiant hour. “Blessed among women, highly favoured,” thus Glorious Gabriel hailed her, teaching words to us: Whom devoutly copying we too cry “All hail!” Echoing on the music of glorious Gabriel.

Herself a rose, who bore the Rose, She bore the Rose and felt its thorn. All Loveliness new-born Took on her bosom its repose, And slept and woke there night and morn.

Lily herself, she bore the one Fair Lily; sweeter, whiter, far Than she or others are: The Sun of Righteousness her Son, She was His morning star.

She gracious, He essential Grace, He was the Fountain, she the rill: Her goodness to fulfil And gladness, with proportioned pace He led her steps thro’ good and ill.

Christ’s mirror she of grace and love, Of beauty and of life and death: By hope and love and faith Transfigured to His Likeness, “Dove, Spouse, Sister, Mother,” Jesus saith.

ST. MARK.

Once like a broken bow Mark sprang aside: Yet grace recalled him to a worthier course, To feeble hands and knees increasing force, Till God was magnified.

And now a strong Evangelist, St. Mark Hath for his sign a Lion in his strength; And thro’ the stormy water’s breadth and length He helps to steer God’s Ark.

Thus calls he sinners to be penitents, He kindles penitents to high desire, He mounts before them to the sphere of saints, And bids them come up higher.

ST. BARNABAS.

“Now when we had discovered Cyprus, we left it on the left band.” —Acts xxi. 3.

“We sailed under Cyprus, because the winds were contrary.” —Acts xxvii. 4.

St. Barnabas, with John his sister’s son, Set sail for Cyprus; leaving in their wake That chosen Vessel, who for Jesus’ sake Proclaimed the Gentiles and the Jews at one. Divided while united, each must run His mighty course not hell should overtake; And pressing toward the mark must own the ache Of love, and sigh for heaven not yet begun. For saints in life-long exile yearn to touch Warm human hands, and commune face to face; But these we know not ever met again: Yet once St. Paul at distance overmuch Just sighted Cyprus; and once more in vain Neared it and passed;—not there his landing place.

VIGIL OF ST. PETER.

O Jesu, gone so far apart Only my heart can follow Thee, That look which pierced St. Peter’s heart Turn now on me.

Thou who dost search me thro’ and thro’ And mark the crooked ways I went, Look on me, Lord, and make me too Thy penitent.

ST. PETER.

“Launch out into the deep,” Christ spake of old To Peter: and he launched into the deep; Strengthened should tempest wake which lay asleep, Strengthened to suffer heat or suffer cold. Thus, in Christ’s Prescience: patient to behold A fall, a rise, a scaling Heaven’s high steep; Prescience of Love, which deigned to overleap The mire of human errors manifold.

Lord, Lover of Thy Peter, and of him Beloved with craving of a humbled heart Which eighteen hundred years have satisfied; Hath he his throne among Thy Seraphim Who love? or sits he on a throne apart, Unique, near Thee, to love Thee human-eyed?

St. Peter once: “Lord, dost Thou wash my feet?”— Much more I say: Lord, dost Thou stand and knock At my closed heart more rugged than a rock, Bolted and barred, for Thy soft touch unmeet, Nor garnished nor in any wise made sweet? Owls roost within and dancing satyrs mock. Lord, I have heard the crowing of the cock And have not wept: ah, Lord, Thou knowest it. Yet still I hear Thee knocking, still I hear: “Open to Me, look on Me eye to eye, That I may wring thy heart and make it whole; And teach thee love because I hold thee dear, And sup with thee in gladness soul with soul, And sup with thee in glory by and by.”

I followed Thee, my God, I followed Thee To see the end: I turned back flying from Gethsemane, Turned back on flying steps to see Thy Face, my God, my Friend.

Even fleeing from Thee my heart clave to Thee: I turned perforce Constrained, yea chained by love which maketh free; I turned perforce, and silently Followed along Thy course.

Lord, didst Thou know that I was following Thee? I weak and small Yet Thy true lover, mean tho’ I must be, Sinning and sorrowing—didst Thou see? O Lord, Thou sawest all.

I thought I had been strong to die for Thee; I disbelieved Thy word of warning spoken patiently: My heart cried, “That be far from me,” Till Thy bruised heart I grieved.

Once I had urged: “Lord, this be far from Thee:”— Rebel to light, It needed first that Thou shouldst die for me Or ever I could plumb and see Love’s lovely depth and height.

Alas that I should trust myself, not Thee; Not trust Thy word: I faithless slumberer in Gethsemane, Blinded and rash; who instantly Put trust, but in a sword.

Ah Lord, if even at the last in Thee I had put faith, I might even at the last have counselled me, And not have heaped up cruelty To sting Thee in Thy death.

Alas for me, who bore to think on Thee And yet to lie: While Thou, O Lord, didst bear to look on me Goaded by fear to blasphemy, And break my heart and die.

No balm I find in Gilead, yet in Thee Nailed to Thy palm I find a balm that wrings and comforts me: Balm wrung from Thee by agony, My balm, mine only balm.

Oh blessed John who standeth close to Thee, With Magdalene, And Thine own Mother praying silently, Yea, blessed above women she, Now blessed even as then.

And blessed the scorned thief who hangs by Thee, Whose thirsting mouth Thirsts for Thee more than water, whose eyes see, Whose lips confess in ecstasy Nor feel their parching drouth.

Like as the hart the water-brooks I Thee Desire, my hands I stretch to Thee; O kind Lord, pity me: Lord, I have wept, wept bitterly, I driest of dry lands.

Lord, I am standing far far off from Thee; Yet is my heart Hanging with Thee upon the accursed tree; The nails, the thorns, pierce Thee and me: My God, I claim my part.

Scarce in Thy throne and kingdom; yet with Thee In shame, in loss, In Thy forsaking, in Thine agony: Love crucified, behold even me, Me also bear Thy cross.

VIGIL OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW.

Lord, to Thine own grant watchful hearts and eyes; Hearts strung to prayer, awake while eyelids sleep; Eyes patient till the end to watch and weep. So will sleep nourish power to wake and rise With Virgins who keep vigil and are wise, To sow among all sowers who shall reap, From out man’s deep to call Thy vaster deep, And tread the uphill track to Paradise. Sweet souls! so patient that they make no moan, So calm on journey that they seem at rest, So rapt in prayer that half they dwell in heaven Thankful for all withheld and all things given; So lit by love that Christ shines manifest Transfiguring their aspects to His own.

ST. BARTHOLOMEW.