Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth

by William Wordsworth

  This Ordinance, whether, loss it would supply, 10

  Prevent omission, help deficiency,

  Or seek to make assurance doubly sure.

  Shame if the consecrated Vow be found

  An idle form, the Word an empty sound!

  CATECHISING

  FROM Little down to Least, in due degree,

  Around the Pastor, each in new-wrought vest,

  Each with a vernal posy at his breast,

  We stood, a trembling, earnest Company!

  With low soft murmur, like a distant bee,

  Some spake, by thought-perplexing fears betrayed;

  And some a bold unerring answer made:

  How fluttered then thy anxious heart for me,

  Beloved Mother! Thou whose happy hand

  Had bound the flowers I wore, with faithful tie: 10

  Sweet flowers! at whose inaudible command

  Her countenance, phantom-like, doth reappear:

  O lost too early for the frequent tear,

  And ill requited by this heartfelt sigh!

  CONFIRMATION

  THE Young-ones gathered in from hill and dale,

  With holiday delight on every brow:

  ‘Tis passed away; far other thoughts prevail;

  For they are taking the baptismal Vow

  Upon their conscious selves; their own lips speak

  The solemn promise. Strongest sinews fail,

  And many a blooming, many a lovely, cheek

  Under the holy fear of God turns pale;

  While on each head his lawn-robed Servant lays

  An apostolic hand, and with prayer seals 10

  The Covenant. The Omnipotent will raise

  Their feeble Souls; and bear with ‘his’ regrets,

  Who, looking round the fair assemblage, feels

  That ere the Sun goes down their childhood sets.

  CONFIRMATION CONTINUED

  I SAW a Mother’s eye intensely bent

  Upon a Maiden trembling as she knelt;

  In and for whom the pious Mother felt

  Things that we judge of by a light too faint:

  Tell, if ye may, some star-crowned Muse, or Saint!

  Tell what rushed in, from what she was relieved—

  Then, when her Child the hallowing touch received,

  And such vibration through the Mother went

  That tears burst forth amain. Did gleams appear?

  Opened a vision of that blissful place 10

  Where dwells a Sister-child? And was power given

  Part of her lost One’s glory back to trace

  Even to this Rite? For thus ‘She’ knelt, and, ere

  The summer-leaf had faded, passed to Heaven.

  SACRAMENT

  BY chain yet stronger must the Soul be tied:

  One duty more, last stage of this ascent,

  Brings to thy food, mysterious Sacrament!

  The Offspring, haply, at the Parent’s side;

  But not till They, with all that do abide

  In Heaven, have lifted up their hearts to laud

  And magnify the glorious name of God,

  Fountain of grace, whose Son for sinners died.

  Ye, who have duly weighed the summons, pause

  No longer; ye, whom to the saving rite 10

  The Altar calls, come early under laws

  That can secure for you a path of light

  Through gloomiest shade; put on (nor dread its weight)

  Armour divine, and conquer in your cause!

  THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY

  THE Vested Priest before the Altar stands;

  Approach, come gladly, ye prepared, in sight

  Of God and chosen friends, your troth to plight

  With the symbolic ring, and willing hands

  Solemnly joined. Now sanctify the bands

  O Father!—to the Espoused thy blessing give,

  That mutually assisted they may live

  Obedient, as here taught, to thy commands.

  So prays the Church, to consecrate a Vow

  “The which would endless matrimony make;” 10

  Union that shadows forth and doth partake

  A mystery potent human love to endow

  With heavenly, each more prized for the other’s sake;

  Weep not, meek Bride! uplift thy timid brow.

  THANKSGIVING AFTER CHILDBIRTH

  WOMAN! the Power who left his throne on high,

  And deigned to wear the robe of flesh we wear,

  The Power that thro’ the straits of Infancy

  Did pass dependent on maternal care,

  His own humanity with Thee will share,

  Pleased with the thanks that in his People’s eye

  Thou offerest up for safe Delivery

  From Childbirth’s perilous throes. And should the Heir

  Of thy fond hopes hereafter walk inclined

  To courses fit to make a mother rue 10

  That ever he was born, a glance of mind

  Cast upon this observance may renew

  A better will; and, in the imagined view

  Of thee thus kneeling, safety he may find.

  VISITATION OF THE SICK

  THE Sabbath bells renew the inviting peal;

  Glad music! yet there be that, worn with pain

  And sickness, listen where they long have lain,

  In sadness listen. With maternal zeal

  Inspired, the Church sends ministers to kneel

  Beside the afflicted; to sustain with prayer,

  And soothe the heart confession hath laid bare—

  That pardon, from God’s throne, may set its seal

  On a true Penitent. When breath departs

  From one disburthened so, so comforted, 10

  His Spirit Angels greet; and ours be hope

  That, if the Sufferer rise from his sick-bed,

  Hence he will gain a firmer mind, to cope

  With a bad world, and foil the Tempter’s arts.

  THE COMMINATlON SERVICE

  SHUN not this Rite, neglected, yea abhorred,

  By some of unreflecting mind, as calling

  Man to curse man, (thought monstrous and appalling.)

  Go thou and hear the threatenings of the LORD;

  Listening within his Temple see his sword

  Unsheathed in wrath to strike the offender’s head,

  Thy own, if sorrow for thy sin be dead,

  Guilt unrepented, pardon unimplored.

  Two aspects bears Truth needful for salvation;

  Who knows not ‘that?’—yet would this delicate age 10

  Look only on the Gospel’s brighter page:

  Let light and dark duly our thoughts employ;

  So shall the fearful words of Commination

  Yield timely fruit of peace and love and joy.

  FORMS OF PRAYER AT SEA

  TO kneeling Worshippers no earthly floor

  Gives holier invitation than the deck

  Of a storm-shattered Vessel saved from Wreck

  (When all that Man could do availed no more)

  By him who raised the Tempest and restrains:

  Happy the crew who this have felt, and pour

  Forth for his mercy, as the Church ordains,

  Solemn thanksgiving. Nor will ‘they’ implore

  In vain who, for a rightful cause, give breath

  To words the Church prescribes aiding the lip 10

  For the heart’s sake, ere ship with hostile ship

  Encounters, armed for work of pain and death.

  Suppliants! the God to whom your cause ye trust

  Will listen, and ye know that He is just.

  FUNERAL SERVICE

  FROM the Baptismal hour, thro’ weal and woe,

  The Church extends her care to thought and deed;

  Nor quits the Body when the Soul is freed,

  The mortal weight cast off to be laid low.

  Blest Rite for him who hears in faith, “I know


  That my Redeemer liveth,”—hears each word

  That follows—striking on some kindred chord

  Deep in the thankful heart;—yet tears will flow.

  Man is as grass that springeth up at morn,

  Grows green, and is cut down and withereth 10

  Ere nightfall—truth that well may claim a sigh,

  Its natural echo; but hope comes reborn

  At Jesu’s bidding. We rejoice, “O Death,

  Where is thy Sting?—O Grave, where is thy Victory?”

  RURAL CEREMONY

  CLOSING the sacred Book which long has fed

  Our meditations, give we to a day

  Of annual joy one tributary lay;

  This day, when, forth by rustic music led,

  The village Children, while the sky is red

  With evening lights, advance in long array

  Through the still churchyard, each with garland gay,

  That, carried sceptre-like, o’ertops the head

  Of the proud Bearer. To the wide church-door,

  Charged with these offerings which their fathers bore 10

  For decoration in the Papal time,

  The innocent procession softly moves:—

  The spirit of Laud is pleased in heaven’s pure clime,

  And Hooker’s voice the spectacle approves!

  REGRETS

  WOULD that our scrupulous Sires had dared to leave

  Less scanty measure of those graceful rites

  And usages, whose due return invites

  A stir of mind too natural to deceive;

  Giving to Memory help when she would weave

  A crown for Hope!—I dread the boasted lights

  That all too often are but fiery blights,

  Killing the bud o’er which in vain we grieve.

  Go, seek, when Christmas snows discomfort bring,

  The counter Spirit found in some gay church 10

  Green with fresh holly, every pew a perch

  In which the linnet or the thrush might sing,

  Merry and loud and safe from prying search,

  Strains offered only to the genial Spring.

  MUTABILITY

  FROM low to high doth dissolution climb,

  And sink from high to low, along a scale

  Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail;

  A musical but melancholy chime,

  Which they can hear who meddle not with crime,

  Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care.

  Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear

  The longest date do melt like frosty rime,

  That in the morning whitened hill and plain

  And is no more; drop like the tower sublime 10

  Of yesterday, which royally did wear

  His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain

  Some casual shout that broke the silent air,

  Or the unimaginable touch of Time.

  OLD ABBEYS

  MONASTIC Domes! following my downward way,

  Untouched by due regret I marked your fall!

  Now, ruin, beauty, ancient stillness, all

  Dispose to judgments temperate as we lay

  On our past selves in life’s declining day:

  For as, by discipline of Time made wise,

  We learn to tolerate the infirmities

  And faults of others—gently as he may,

  So with our own the mild Instructor deals,

  Teaching us to forget them or forgive. 10

  Perversely curious, then, for hidden ill

  Why should we break Time’s charitable seals?

  Once ye were holy, ye are holy still;

  Your spirit freely let me drink, and live!

  EMIGRANT FRENCH CLERGY

  EVEN while I speak, the sacred roofs of France

  Are shattered into dust; and self-exiled

  From altars threatened, levelled, or defiled,

  Wander the Ministers of God, as chance

  Opens a way for life, or consonance

  Of faith invites. More welcome to no land

  The fugitives than to the British strand,

  Where priest and layman with the vigilance

  Of true compassion greet them. Creed and test

  Vanish before the unreserved embrace 10

  Of catholic humanity:—distrest

  They came,—and, while the moral tempest roars

  Throughout the Country they have left, our shores

  Give to their Faith a fearless resting-place.

  CONGRATULATION

  THUS all things lead to Charity secured

  By THEM who blessed the soft and happy gale

  That landward urged the great Deliverer’s sail,

  Till in the sunny bay his fleet was moored!

  Propitious hour!—had we, like them, endured

  Sore stress of apprehension, with a mind

  Sickened by injuries, dreading worse designed,

  From month to month trembling and unassured,

  How had we then rejoiced! But we have felt,

  As a loved substance, their futurity: 10

  Good, which they dared not hope for, we have seen;

  A State whose generous will through earth is dealt;

  A State—which, balancing herself between

  Licence and slavish order, dares be free.

  NEW CHURCHES

  BUT liberty, and triumphs on the Main,

  And laurelled armies, not to be withstood—

  What serve they? if, on transitory good

  Intent, and sedulous of abject gain,

  The State (ah, surely not preserved in vain!)

  Forbear to shape due channels which the Flood

  Of sacred truth may enter—till it brood

  O’er the wide realm, as o’er the Egyptian plain

  The all-sustaining Nile. No more—the time

  Is conscious of her want; through England’s bounds, 10

  In rival haste, the wished-for Temples rise!

  I hear their sabbath bells’ harmonious chime

  Float on the breeze—the heavenliest of all sounds

  That vale or hill prolongs or multiplies!

  CHURCH TO BE ERECTED

  BE this the chosen site; the virgin sod,

  Moistened from age to age by dewy eve,

  Shall disappear, and grateful earth receive

  The corner-stone from hands that build to God.

  Yon reverend hawthorns, hardened to the rod

  Of winter storms, yet budding cheerfully;

  Those forest oaks of Druid memory,

  Shall long survive, to shelter the Abode

  Of genuine Faith. Where, haply, ‘mid this band

  Of daisies, shepherds sate of yore and wove 10

  May-garlands, there let the holy altar stand

  For kneeling adoration;—while—above,

  Broods, visibly portrayed, the mystic Dove,

  That shall protect from blasphemy the Land.

  CONTINUED

  MINE ear has rung, my spirit sunk subdued,

  Sharing the strong emotion of the crowd,

  When each pale brow to dread hosannas bowed

  While clouds of incense mounting veiled the rood,

  That glimmered like a pine-tree dimly viewed

  Through Alpine vapours. Such appalling rite

  Our Church prepares not, trusting to the might

  Of simple truth with grace divine imbued;

  Yet will we not conceal the precious Cross,

  Like men ashamed: the Sun with his first smile 10

  Shall greet that symbol crowning the low Pile:

  And the fresh air of incense-breathing morn

  Shall wooingly embrace it; and green moss

  Creep round its arms through centuries unborn.

  NEW CHURCHYARD

  THE encircling ground, in native turf arrayed,

  Is now by solemn consecration given

  To social interests, and to f
avouring Heaven;

  And where the rugged colts their gambols played,

  And wild deer bounded through the forest glade,

  Unchecked as when by merry Outlaw driven,

  Shall hymns of praise resound at morn and even;

  And soon, full soon, the lonely Sexton’s spade

  Shall wound the tender sod. Encincture small,

  But infinite its grasp of weal and woe! 10

  Hopes, fears, in never-ending ebb and flow;—

  The spousal trembling, and the “dust to dust,”

  The prayers, the contrite struggle, and the trust

  That to the Almighty Father looks through all

  CATHEDRALS, ETC.

  OPEN your gates, ye everlasting Piles!

  Types of the spiritual Church which God hath reared;

  Not loth we quit the newly-hallowed sward

  And humble altar, ‘mid your sumptuous aisles

  To kneel, or thrid your intricate defiles,

  Or down the nave to pace in motion slow;

  Watching, with upward eye, the tall tower grow

  And mount, at every step, with living wiles

  Instinct—to rouse the heart and lead the will

  By a bright ladder to the world above.

  Open your gates, ye Monuments of love

  Divine! thou Lincoln, on thy sovereign hill!

  Thou, stately York! and Ye, whose splendours cheer

  Isis and Cam, to patient Science dear!

  INSIDE OF KING’S COLLEGE CHAPEL, CAMBRIDGE

  TAX not the royal Saint with vain expense,

  With ill-matched aims the Architect who planned—

  Albeit labouring for a scanty band

  Of white robed Scholars only—this immense

  And glorious Work of fine intelligence!

  Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore

  Of nicely-calculated less or more;

  So deemed the man who fashioned for the sense

  These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof

  Self-poised, and scooped into ten thousand cells, 10

  Where light and shade repose, where music dwells