St. Mark's Day

O for the Evangelic faith and love,
That graced the golden Apostolic days,
That drew down gifts uncounted from above,
And souls unnumbered up to Heaven could raise.

When, burning to reclaim a ransomed world,
'Apostles, Prophets, Pastors, Teachers,' all
Blew with one breath the Gospel trumpet's call,
And the bright banner of the Cross unfurled.

Then Apostolic order did not keep
Men from the work of God, where'er it lay;
They watched the fold, but if one went astray,
Love Evangelic sought the wand'ring sheep:

No church can truly Apostolic prove,
That wants the fire of Evangelic love!
I love my Church, for in her walls I see
Shelter, not only for the souls of men,

But for those dear, and deathless truths, which we
Hold as the charter of our faith; and when
The lamp of truth, placed elsewhere, hath been driven
By every ' wind of doctrine,' I have seen

Its flame without one flicker rise to Heaven,
Within her precincts tranquil and serene.
Yet if I thought one soul, without her bound
Wand'ring 'mid gloom and darkness, might be found,

I'd from her very altar snatch that Light,
And bear it forth amid the gusts of night,
Without one fear that, 'neath the wildest sky,
'Twould even tremble, much less fail or die.

So when this solemn day, each year, returns,
And, toss'd about with winds, the sacred ark
Seeks ' the Rock's' shelter, and there duly learns
All that we owe th' ' Evangelist St. Mark;'

'The Heavenly doctrine' of that blessed Word,
Which he embalmed in Holy Scripture's page,
To be lisp'd out by youth, conn'd o'er by age,
Bead by the learn'd, by the unlearned heard;

Then, let the fervour of Thy Gospel truth
Fill every heart, O Lord, throughout the land,
Until ‘young men and maidens,' age and youth,
Swell, with one voice, that great prophetic band,

Which must be found amid the sons of men,
Ere Thou, O Saviour Christ, to earth return again.