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النشر الإلكتروني

THE TEMPLE BUILDER.

(Lines Written for a Sacerdotal Jubilee.)

How shall we greet this Day of Jubilee?
Shall the full pulse with deeper joyance bound
To the loud clash of ancient minstrelsy-

The cymbal's clamorous song, the softer sound
Of lyre and psaltery, tinkling faint around?

Ah no! the Temple-choirs have passed away:
The smoke of sacrifice no more shall send
Its prophecy into the welkin gray:
For ministering Angels now defend

A royal Priesthood that can never end.

O Kingly Priesthood! who may sing thy praise?
What sound of psaltery, or what swelling tone
Of deep vibrating organ-throats shall raise
The chant whose theme of Christ-like power, alone
In Angel choirs a fitting voice may own?

And yet the heart too full must overflow:

Sing we to-day, not glory then, but love!

Sing we the sturdy faith, through weal and woe
Looking with steady gaze to Him above

Who wills in sacrifice its depth to prove.

Sing we the Jubilee each bosom yields:
Sing we the burden of thy Priestly years!

Thou cam'st to labor in the Saviour's fields

White with the harvest! What though thronging fears

Peopled thy soul with doubt too deep for tears?

God's helping grace, at Ordination poured
Into thy heart, and the divine desire

For laborers in the vineyard of the Lord,
Thee but to greater efforts could inspire,
And quicken thy intent with spurs of fire.
And so thou cam'st to build the temple grand
Not made with hands: and yet like him of old
Who in the desert waste of Jewry's land
Built first an earthly temple-so, white-stoled
To offer sacrifice amongst thy fold,

Thou, too, didst patiently the burden bear
Of earthly building! For those walls must rise,
Here in our midst, which, as a golden stair,
Should wed the earth unto the arching skies,
And bring down Heaven itself in sacrifice.

Not thine the need, but ours: and still thy zeal
For God's high glory made the task thine own.
O patient workman, or in woe or weal

We thank Thee for love's labor which alone
Hath raised to God a Temple and a Throne.

Still, as in silent watches of the night,
The gentle dews of heaven refresh the sod
And melt its sullen heart for morn's delight—
So didst thou strive to make each fainting clod
Of human earth, a garden unto God.

Sermon and Sacrament were warp and woof
Of that celestial web where thou didst trace
Designs of heavenly beauty, unto proof

Of the delights of holiness, and place

The splendid tints of sanctifying grace.

So, while the outer temple slowly raised

Its stately fabric, thy dear care would build

A house not made with hands, where God is praised
In every Christian heart; a temple filled
With chants of love to silent rapture stilled.

Blessed thy people!-yet more blessed Thou,
For whom they weave such tender memories,
And place the living chaplet on thy brow.
Earth hath its many conquerors; but these
Are blest of all, who win such ministries.

God's people led to God; the hosts of hell
Vainly besieging with a frenzied power
The stately walls of God's high citadel-
These are the gains, not of a passing hour,
That shall thy Jubilee with sweetness dower.

All praise to God, through whom the fight is won,
And who to earth hath given such victory;
Him do we pray through His Redeeming Son,
To grant, when strife no more can weary thee,
The peace and joy of endless Jubilee.

TRANSLATIONS

LAUDA SION.

Lauda, Sion, Salvatorem,
Lauda ducem et pastorem

In hymnis et canticis.
Quantum potes, tantum aude:
Quia major omni laude,
Nec laudare sufficis.

Laudis thema specialis,

Panis vivus et vitalis

Hodie proponitur.

Quem in sacrae mensa coenae, Turbae fratrum duodenae

Datum non ambigitur.

Sit laus plena, sit sonora,
Sit jucunda, sit decora

Mentis jubilatio.

Dies enim solemnis agitur,

In qua mensae prima recolitur Hujus institutio.

In hac mensa novi Regis,
Novum Pascha novae legis

Phase vetus terminat.

Vetustatem novitas,

Umbram fugat veritas,

Noctem lux eliminat.

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