Images de page
PDF
ePub

beareth with it Thy HOLY SPIRIT and lyfe to conforte all that hunger or thyrste to drynke thereof, by the vertue of our LORDE JESU CHRIST.

So be it.

O Most Hye and Mighty LORDE God, and Kynge of Peace, which when Thou tokest Thy most holy humanite upon Thee, in the woombe of the mooste holy Virgin Mary, then by the hye provision of Thy Father's devyne power, all the universal world was in peace and concord. Where

fore, bounteful LORDE GOD, we pray Thee to preserve our kynge, his ayders and counsellors, and all governours, and the whole universal commons of this realm in peace and concorde, and not only us, LORDE, but all the realms in the world, that we may keep one GOD, one faythe, and one lawe, by the ordinannce of our LORDE JESU CHRISTE, which reighneth

in the worlde of worldes.

So be it."*

Now in this first Litany of the Reformation you will directly see the germ of our present one. There is precisely the same tone and spirit, and very nearly the same form. I hardly know whether, in some respects, the old one has not the preference.

John. You said you would explain the different parts of it.

Vicar. You mean our present Litany. I will do so. Take the Prayer-Book in your hand and follow me. Observe carefully what I say.

First; I must divide the whole of the Litany into two parts. The former part ending at the versicles just before the LORD's Prayer. And then again both these greater parts I must again subdivide into different lesser parts. Let us take the former division first. It has six subdivisions.

1. The Invocation, in which we call upon the Three Persons of the Holy Trinity, first separately, and then conjointly.

2. The Deprecation, in which we pray against certain evils. From all evil and mischief &c., good LORD, deliver us.

3. The Obsecration, in which we call upon JESUS CHRIST, and appeal to *See Collier's Church History. Part II. Book II

Him, by the great acts of His Life and Death. It stands thus. 66 By the mystery of Thy Holy Incarnation &c. 4. The Intercession, in which we pray for others, all estates and conditions of men,

"That it may please thee," &c. 5. A special Invocation of the Son of God as our Atonement.

"O Lamb of God," &c.

6. Ending with a summary of the Holy Trinity.

"LORD"-The FATHER.
"CHRIST"-The SON.
"LORD"-The HOLY GHOST.

Have mercy upon us.

Here the first part of the Litany ends, and you will observe that it is particularly the part of the people to sing or say it. It is not necessary that a Priest should say it, but any person appointed by the Priest, and so in Cathedrals, the Lay Clerks even at this present day are appointed to sing it, and thus simply because, as you must observe, it contains no special function of the Priesthood. But then the first part being ended, the Priest as such continues it, for the Rubric here directs, which it had not before"Then shall the Priest and the people say the Lord's Prayer.

And then begins the second great division.

Now the second portion, as well as the first, consists of several sub-divisions. Each has a prayer and a versicle added, giving it the character of Psalmody, and this is very remarkable because it the more agrees with the ancient Litanies, which frequently introduced Psalmody at their termination.

1. The LORD's Prayer with its versicle appended.

2.

Two addresses of Prayer with a versicle appended in response to each, the whole summed up as in a Psalm, with the Gloria.

3. Suffrages and Responses, but all, (observe this particularly,) being addressed to our LORD as Mediator, "Christ." "Son of David." "O Lord." "O Lord Christ."

4. Collects and Prayers to conclude. Now I should confidently appeal to you. Can there be a more beautifully constructed offering of prayer than this. It possesses everything that prayer can sug

gest. It rests on the most substantial doctrines of our Faith. The Holy Trinity. The Intercession and Mediation of CHRIST. The acknowledgment of Sin. The Atonement for that sin alone in the blood of the Lamb.

The misfortune is that too frequently this most devotional service is slurred over by the Priest at the end of another office; said with an apathetic and careless voice, and so mutilated by the false tones given to it in reading, that its whole meaning is destroyed, and neither the congregation nor the Priest seem to take the slightest interest in it. Now the Litany should never be joined to the end of any Service. It may be sometimes rightly used before the Holy Communion or before a Sermon, but it is never meant to make the fag end of another Service, merely for the sake of getting rid of it. You observe the Rubric says—

"To be said or sung after Morning Prayer." It does not say when. The simplest and most devotional way is to join in it, as a Service standing alone; a Service of Intercession. When it is used in this manner, on special occasions, as Rogation Days, Ember Days, or special days of Fasting, then it is that we appreciate the deep solemnity of its character, and our hearts. entering into its spirit are moved by the HOLY GHOST to look up to GoD. O my good friend, John, get rid of your foolish prejudices, look upon things as they really are, and standing by themselves. Come to our Litany, and invoke the Son of God to help the Church, and make it once more one. Think how much and how earnestly the Church is daily supplicating GOD for Unity, and Peace, and Love, and let your Litany go up with ours that we may be

one.

"From all false doctrine, heresy, and Schism" ah yes, and from hardness of heart," which causes all that heresy and Schism,

"GOOD LORD DELIVER US"

The race of mankind would perish did they cease to aid each other. From the time that the mother binds the child's head, till the moment that some kind assistant wipes the death damp from the brow of the dying, we cannot exist without mutual help. All then that need aid, have a right to ask of their fellow mortals; no one who holds the power of granting, can refuse it without guilt.-SIR WALTER SCOTT.

[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]

Behold, my father, here are two Rosebuds! How full they seem, and just ready to burst. And see, they grow on the same stem, like twin-brothers, just alike. Surely they will both be beautiful around, and speak of GOD, and praise flowers ere long, and scent the air all Him for His glory.

But the father turned, and said: “We shall see."

thought no more. And the child Hillel passed away, and

Then came sunny days of June, and gentle showers, and sweet dews of the night; and all nature was beautiful, be

cause it was of GOD.

And then the father of Hillel took the boy by the hand, and said: "Where are the Rose-buds my son? Here is one. Oh how beautiful a flower-but canst thou see the other ?"

And Hillel said: "Ah! how is this! for they both were the same in their bud, so that I could not distinguish them, and now here is one eaten like a canker, sodden, dried Has the sun up, and withered. burnt it up? Ah no, for the sun has shone upon them both. Has the rain washed it away? Ah no, for the rain has descended on them both. Has the dew of the night been too cold and chill? Ah no, for they have rested side by side, and there has been no difference between them."

And then the father of Hillel took his knife, and cut down into the poor, languid withered blossom, and lo, a creeping winding worm. And he said: "Thou seest, my son, what SIN is !"

"THE GRAVE."

THROUGH Sorrow's night, and danger's path,
Amil the deepening gloom,
We, soldiers of an injured King,
Are marching to the tomb.

There, when the turmoil is no more,
And all our powers decay,
Our cold remains, in solitude,
Shall sleep the years away.

Our labours done, securely laid
In this our last retreat,
Unheaded o'er our silent dust

The storms of life shall beat.

Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,
The vital spark shall lie,

For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise,
To see its kindred sky.

These ashes too, this little dust,

Our Father's care shall keep, Till the last angel rise, and break

The long and dreary sleep.

Then love's soft dew o'er every eye,
Shall shed its mildest rays,
And the long silent dust shall burst
With shouts of endless praise.

KIRKE WHITE.

THE FATE OF SACRILEGE.

"PLERUMQUE, CUM TIBI VIDERIS ODISEE INIMICUM FRATREM ODISTI, ET NESCIS." S. Augustine. Very often, when you seem to yourself to be hating an enemy, you are hating a brother, and know it not.

(Continued from page 128.) CHAPTER III.

More than ten years have passed away since Mrs. Latymer Colville remarked that the marriage bells were "cracked," and Miss Rosalia had whispered they said something "sad, so sad." In ten years what changes work around us-and which of us dare look forward to ten years?

During the first two years of their marriage, Mrs. Irwin had presented her husband with two daughters-Sarah, the eldest-born, and Bridget, a year younger. When Sarah was seven years old Mrs. Irwin was thrown from her horse, and for three years lingered in suffering helplessness, until at length the "cracked" bells which had rung on her marriage-day tolled at her funeral. Mr. Northcote had been

for some time established at Irwin, and Mr. Irwin, during his wife's long and tedious illness, sank into a sort of lethargy, a lethargy however which had gradually been creeping over him for some years previously. A member of the Colville family, a Mrs. Martha Colville, a middle-aged automaton, acted deputy at Irwin during the illness of the unfortunate mistress, and was also known as the governess of the two little girls. Of her it can only be said that she inculcated no vice, nor any particular virtues; content with performing her daily tasks, and walking through the world with her eyes shut. There are many in the plight of Mrs. Martha Colville; a person whether present or absent, unnoticed and forgotten. Now, during the three years preceding Mrs. Irwin's death, the gloom at Irwin Hall was so pall-like, and the sick-room of the sufferer presented so terrible an aspect, in consequence of her impatient and delirious agonies, (for, poor soul, she clung with tenacity to this world to the very last), that Mr. Irwin, much shut up in his library, felt grateful to those friends who cherished the little girls, motherless and neglected as they seemed to be.

Sarah was a fair and most lovely child; her white skin, blue eyes, and golden hair, with a proud bearing and a sort of defiant step, marked her from earliest years as a true Colville. Pride was in every glance, and a determination and obstinacy of will inherent in the child's nature, which required the strong firm hand of judicious training to bend aright-but which, if allowed to shoot forth in a wrong direction, might darken and obscure all nobler qualities. Yet she was a winsome child, graceful in a singular degree, caressing too where she liked, and quick to apprehend all teaching. So very lovely and delicate in person, too, that it seemed almost impossible to treat this fragile child with severity, even where severity was palpably required; but the delicacy was more in outward appearance than in physical reality; for Sarah, though not what is termed robust, was not by any means an exotic, nor otherwise than well in bodily health. From the time when her tiny footfall first sought the Glen, Sarah had been the idol of Miss Tammy's existence; she-neither wife or mother-the cold, hard, supercilious woman, flung her whole

affection on this beautiful little girl; an affection, strong in its way, if not warm or tender. Sarah reverenced Miss Tammy more than any one else on earth, watched her countenance, sought to win her approbation, and obeyed her behests. Hence an attachment sprang up between the old and young which increased with years; and Miss Tammy was restless and unhappy if the child were long absent from her side. Mr. Irwin, only too thankful in knowing that his eldest-born was so well cared for in all respects, Miss Tammy having taken her education in hand, gladly permitted Sarah to sojourn at the Glen for long periods during her mother's illness; and the child learnt to regard it as almost an home. She imbibed Miss Tammy's precepts; her pride was fostered; her reasoning powers, too, precociously developed; and her obstinacy of disposition emphatically denominated "firmness."

:

Bridget presented a singular contrast to her fair sister; for she was plain, tall, and thin, silent and shy, timid and retiring; and Bridget had her father's dark eyes, but darker and larger than Mr. Irwin's, but she had nothing else that could be called beautiful about her. Indeed Bridget was a very unattractive and unpopular girl in manner, for she had an awkward way with her, and shrank into herself when addressed by strangers but her old nurse Bestie loved her dearly, and Bestie said that Miss Bridget was a child of the angels; but then Bestie did talk a great deal of nonsense, as old nurses will; and though she had been nurse in the Colville family all her life, yet she had queer, silly fancies of her own, had old Bestie, like poor Miss Rosalia; talking about angels, and old usages, and signs, and emblems, until Mrs. Irwin had often bid old Bestie "hold her tongue."

Bridget was sometimes taken to the Glen with her sister; but she was terribly afraid of Mrs. Latymer Colville, who once shook her staff at the little girl for laughing merrily when a honey-bee perched on Miss Tammy's prominent nose. Bridget did not understand Miss Tammy either, and was fond of romping in the field by the river, where the linen bleached; so was pronounced a "disorderly child," and though a co-heiress of Irwin, scarcely recognised as a "proud Colville," for so this race of puny worms liked to be

called. But on more than one occasion Bridget had clung to Miss Rosalia, and no one but Rosalia could pacify the damsel; for Bridget had her tempers like the rest of us, and would sob long and passionately when wonnded in spirit. Then Rosalia sang the weeping child to sleep, all by themselves; ancient hymns and chants no one else ever heard, how learnt who may tell? She sang in a feeble, cracked voice, yet with dulcet echoes lingering-and Bridget's tears by degrees ceased to flow, as quiet slumber closed her weary eye-lids. And since Mr. Northcote had come to Irwin, Bridget was also a frequent visitor at the parsonage. James Northcote, the incumbent's only child, was about Bridget's age, but an afflicted boy, having met with a sad accident in infancy, which had rendered him lame for life, and entailed much physical suffering. Bridget never cared for the companionship of other children, but she liked to be with Jamie, or Rosalia, or with Bestie and her book. Sarah rather looked down patronizingly on Jamie, and even on Mr. and Mrs. Northcote; she had heard them spoken slightingly of at the Glen, as people who were going the wrong way in Church matters. And as Sarah soon was taught to regard Miss Rosalia as silly, and to think highly of herself in proportion, she at last came to regard her sister also as inferior in all respects to herself. Bridget thought Sarah very beautiful and clever, and meekly endured her neglect; she was very glad however that her own dear papa respected and liked poor Miss Rosalia, and also that he liked the dear Northcotes; and it was too much of a puzzle for her little head, to understand or unravel the cause of prejudices or divisions in families, or amongst acquaintances.

Thus matters were when Mrs. Irwin died; beloved as she had been, there was not a creature who did not feel her dissolution but as a welcome release from suffering; for thrilling down the grand old staircase sometimes came sounds so appalling, that stout hearts quailed and shrank. When the sick-room door opened, at the end of the long corridor, sweeping down the gallery, and down the dark steps, came shrieks of human agony, stifled and suppressed indeed, but still telling the dreadful tale of shattered humanity; and then, shut in ;-muffled from the world,

as it were, by double doors, thick and close. But Bridget heard these sounds more than once as she lingered on the staircase, wistfully waiting to gather tidings of her poor mamma; and Bridget cowered down in terror and dismay, and fancied that in the twilight dark shadows swept past her with moanings inexpressible. She imparted her feelings to Miss Rosalia when they were alone together. Rosalia gravely listened, and replied in this wise:" You must remember, my dear child, that from the hour of your birth to that of your death, good and guardian angels are appointed to watch over you, and that celestial wings are spread around the tender steps of childhood. It is very comforting, my dear little Bridget, to think that we are ever attended by GoD's own bright messengers, and that when evil spirits try to work us shame and woe, the Paradise angels sustain us. Therefore fear not dark shadows on your dear papa's grand old staircase at Irwin: I will tell you what I should rather fancy; that, like Jacob's ladder, angels ascend and descend on it; because, you know, it is built of consecrated wood from hallowed ground."

"Then it is good to have it at Irwin," broke in Bridget eagerly; "I thought nurse Bestie told me once that it was not good for it to be in our house at all, and that some shocking story was told about the stairs; but if angels, good and kind, go up and down on it, it cannot be bad to be there."

Angels may haunt your house ladder, dear, and ascend and descend, because it is made of a tree, venerated and venerable, and once ballowed, ever hallowed. Yet may the angels weep and compassionate, and grieve over us and our misdeeds; but, O, my dear child, I wish the staircase was not there."

"And are the good angels always round poor mamma's bed?" whispered Bridget in an awe-struck tone." Do they weep over her ?"

"They are constant to us in death," replied Miss Rosalia, also whispering and looking uneasy," and when the departing soul is purified and repentant unto salvation, they bear it to the bosom of our dear Saviour."

"I wish that I could see an angel, dear Rosalia," said Bridget, fervently.

"By faith you will, dear, I hope, as you grow older; but now remember never to be afraid in the dark, or when you are alone, for the guardians I have told you of never slumber or sleep. slumber or sleep. And when you are praying to JESUS, the angels watch near you smilingly, and tell all the thoughts that are in your little heart, and would kiss away your penitent tears as they fall, like pearl drops, because true tears of penitence are precious, and JESUS loves them; and He it is that sends His holy angels to watch over, and guard you. You can pray for your poor dear mamma, my dear," continued Rosalia in a low tone; "you are not too young to pray for others, and if you can do nothing else for her, you can do that."

"That is just what Mr. Northcote says, and Mrs. Northcote," said Bridget, gravely, "and I do, indeed I do; but I only tell you and them," added the child, sinking her voice to the softest whisper, "because Sarah would call me presump

tuous."

A deep sigh was Rosalia's only reply as she folded Bridget in her arms; silence was often her best safeguard, the "goldern" silence, which is eloquent of persuasion.

Sarah and Bridget were at the Glen when Mrs. Irwin died. "And have the angels carried my mamma's spirit to heaven ?" asked Bridget of those around her, when Mrs. Latymer Colville, in set terms, informed the little girls of their mother's death.

"Who has been putting such ideas into the child's head ?" said Miss Tammy, angrily. "That's Rosalia's nonsense, I'm

sure.

[ocr errors]

"But do people always go to Heaven when they die, Miss Tammy ?" persisted Bridget, as if speaking to herself; for she was an eccentric child, so dream-like, and yet so matter-of-fact.

"All good people do, of course," tartly answered Miss Tammy, "but you had better learn your catechism Miss Bridget Irwin, and be a good child now your mamma is dead, or nobody will love you." And Bridget then gave way, and sobbed herself to sleep in Rosalia's arms, who alone could pacify her violent grief, as in a half hysteric whisper the child kept repeating-"O! how dreadful, if nobody loved me-but you love me, and Mrs. Northcote loves me, and dear Jamie loves me."

« PrécédentContinuer »