The Ordinal

Alas for me if I forget
The memory of that day
Which fills my waking thoughts, nor yet
E'en sleep can take away!
In dreams I still renew the rites
Whose strong but mystic chain
The spirit to its God unites,
And none can part again.
How oft the bishop's form I see,
And hear that thrilling tone
Demanding with authority
The heart for God alone;
Again I kneel as then I knelt,
While he above me stands,
And seem to feel, as then I felt,
The pressure of his hands.
Again the priests in meet array,
As my weak spirit fails,
Beside me bend them down to pray
Before the chancel-rails;
As then, the sacramental host
Of God's elect are by,
When many a voice its utterance lost,
And tears dimm'd many an eye.
As then they on my vision rose,
The vaulted aisles I see,
And desk and cushion'd book repose
In solemn sanctity, —
The mitre o'er the marble niche,
The broken crook and key,
That from a bishop's tomb shone rich
With polished tracery;
The hangings, the baptismal font,
All, all, save me unchanged,
The holy table, as was wont,
With decency arranged;
The linen cloth, the plate, the cup,
Beneath their covering shine,
Ere priestly hands are lifted up
To bless the bread and wine.
The solemn ceremonial past,
And I am set apart
To serve the Loud, from first to last,
With undivided heart;
And I have sworn, with pledges dire,
Which God and man have heard,
To speak the holy truth entire,
In action and in word.
O Thou, who in thy holy place
Hast set thine orders three,
Grant me, thy meanest servant, grace
To win a good degree;
That so, replenished from above,
And in ray office tried,
Thou mayst be honoured, and in love
Thy church be edified!