The South Aisle: The Creed VI

The quiet of this Summer Eve,
When birds are on their homeward wing,
Save night's sweet friend that wakes to sing,
Should soothe a heart unus'd to grieve.
But lights, that fall on yonder glade,
Do but disclose a darker shade,
And Nature in her joyous mood
Were but a deeper solitude,
But for the gleams of heavenly Love,
Which fall from our true home above.

The shadow sleeps upon the hill,
In Nature's temple all is still.
With rippling stir the leaflets move,
Tho' not a gale to wake the grove ;
The lake hath caught a silver crest,
Tho' not a breath to break its rest.
Calm tremblings thro' the earth and sky
Speak some approaching Deity ;
Shadows of earth hold me no more,
Ah, glorious light, I see thee now,
Forth issuing from the eastern door,
I turn, and head and heart I bow.

The Creed.
Do I believe in God above ?
Then nought on earth my heart shall move,
Calm I unravel life's dull lore,
That I may so His goodness prove.

Away with sad distrust, no more
Come knocking at my heart's low door !
What shall th' Almighty's power withstand,
What shall withhold a Father's hand,
That hand which made and holds the sky and sea and shore ?

One only son within Thy breast,
In Jesus Christ made manifest,
He is my Heaven-born earth-born Lord,
I see Him and I find my rest ;
Conceiv'd of Holy Ghost— the Word,—
Earth saw, and trembled, and ador'd.
But lest we call on rocks to hide,
A virgin Mother's at Thy side,
The pure in heart behold, and own love's gentle chord.

Oh, that this heart were cleans'd to see !
Go, earthly good, and leave me free,
To see my God by sorrow torn,
In robes of rent humanity.

And now before me that dread morn, —
And that pale form is bleeding borne,
Of blending water and of blood
Flows forth the sacramental flood,
And we without the tomb with Mary sit and mourn.

E'en yet — disarming all our woe,
Thou goest down with us below !
May we behold where Thou hast been,
And night of Thy dark burial know ; —
Thence see Thee by the moon serene ;
Rising behind th' Eternal screen,
Now opening Heaven's ethereal bar,
And golden portals from afar,
On the right hand on high by dying Stephen seen.

O mercy, with strange terrors blended !
Above, around, the skies are rended,
Christ sits on high, and far and wide
Are hurrying Angels, — all is ended !

Ah, hence with indolence and pride,
With vain hope in the Crucified ! —
In those dread truths do I believe ?
Then let me not Thy presence grieve,
But working in calm fear that fiery hour abide !

Spirit, foretelling and foretold,
Lighting upon our Head of old,
And thence through all His priesthood sent,
With power to loose, and power to hold ;
Like oil on Aaron's head besprent,
Till to his clothing's skirts it went :
Thence, to all time diffusing down,
Thou fill'st the Church from that blest crown
With odorous graces sweet, o'erflowing and unspent.

Why mourn we left on earth alone ?
When bound within that mystic zone
The dead and living are brought nigh,
And knit together all in one :
O bond for mortal sense too high !

And, pale Remorse, repress thy sigh ;
See the baptismal seal of Heaven,
The pledge of penitence forgiven ;
Go, sin no more, but learn a better strength to try !

Let me not mourn that stern decay
Is busy with this shed of clay,
And wither'd leaves from off me fall ; —
I shall put on a fairer day
Beyond my wintry funeral. —
O thought that doth the heart appal,
Bidding adieu to laggard time,
The unimagin'd steep to climb,
With bars of night around, or Heaven's eternal hall !