Baptismal Promises: The Right-hand Door (Faith)

A wanderer thro' the vale of years,
And westward bent her pilgrim feet,
Here Faith hath made her last retreat.

A wondrous key her shoulder bears,
The blue of Heaven the stole she wears :
When Angels left sad Eden's seat,
She stay'd, fall'n man's companion meet
Again his downcast head she rears,
And seeks the lost to bear their woes ;
'Twas she at Jordan vigils kept,
And by Euphrates sat and wept : —
To them who will her secret prove
A hidden cross she doth disclose,
A word that may the mountains move.

Here now the Church's pillar'd shrine
She hath her habitation made,
And sanctified the solemn shade ;
Bidding celestial brightness shine,
Where else were but a formless mine.
When these dead walls her heaven-born aid,
And secret spirit shall pervade,
Terrestrial things become divine :
'Tis on her breath the Collect soars,
And Psalms attain the eternal doors ;
No health in the baptismal wave,
In hallowed cup no power to save,
Without her— Life a cheerless noon,
And Death a night without a moon.

Here when her rapt eye heavenward streams
In calm and holy Litanies,
She bringeth down the pitying skies ;
The dove upon the fountain gleams,
In broad mysterious blessing teems.
Thence going forth she to chaste eyes
Clothes Nature with her sympathies ;
When night's dark curtains fall, she seems
On mountain tops with silvery feet,
Holding with Heaven communion sweet ;
When clouds Heaven's moving surface wield,
She opes beyond her bright-blue shield ;
When warring tumults gather near,