'STAND FAST IN THE FAITH'

New Zealand Tablet, 3 June 1915, Page 11

'STAND FAST IN THE FAITH'

» --. ... (A Weekly Instruction specially written for the N.Z. Tablet by Ghimel.) A CATHOLIC POET'S VISION. A poet is generally thought to be a visionary, a dreamer of idle dreams, and his writings are often passed by because they are not of the world and are out of touch with the realities of life. Yet time and time again the sleeper's dreams and visions get nearer to the heart of things than the abstruse speculations of the philosopher and the superficial labels of the scientist. Some Catholic papers have recently drawn attention to a striking instance of a poet's foreseeing. In a poem published after his death, Francis Thompson dwells with prophetic insight on these our troubled days, and pictures the place therein occupied by the ' Lily of the King ' —that is, the Catholic Church. ' O Lily of the King ! low lies thy silver wing, And long has been the hour of thine unqueening ; And thy scent of Paradise on the night-wind spills its sighs, . Nor any take the secrets of its meaning. O Lily of the King ! I speak a heavy thing, 0 patience, most sorrowful of daughters! Lo, the hour is at hand for the troubling of the land, And red shall be the breaking of the waters. ' Sit fast upon thy stalk, when the blast shall with thee talk, With the mercies of the King for thine awning: And the just understand that thine hour is at hand, Thine hour at hand with power in the dawning. When the nations lie in blood, and their kings a broken brood, Look up, O most sorrowful of daughters ! Lift lip thy head and hark what sounds are in the dark, For His feet are coming to thee on the waters! ' O Lily of the King ! I shall not see, that sing, 1 shall not see the hour of thy queening ! But my song shall see, and wake like a flower that dawn-winds shake, And sigh with joy the odors of its meaning. O Lily of the King, remember then the thing That this dead mouth sang ; and thy daughters, As they dance before His way, sing there on the Day What I sang when the Night was on the waters!' It is always tempting to quote from a poet like Thompson, with his thorough grasp of Catholic faith and his wonderful expression of Catholic instincts, and some readers to whom sad loss is bringing home the cruelties of war may be glad to read these verses on ' The Passion of Mary ' : ' Thy Son went up the angels' ways, His Passion ended but, ah me ! Thou- found'st the road of further days A longer way of Calvary. ' On the hard cross of hope deferred Thou hung'st in loving agony, Until the mortal-dreaded word Which chills our mirth, spake mirth to thee. ' The Angel Death from this cold tomb Of life did roll the stone away ; And He thou barest in thy womb Caught thee at last into the day. Before the living throne of Whom The Lights of Heaven burning pray.'

Then .follows; the application: '■ . -"*"•. ' O thou who dwellest in the day ! - " .'. Behold, I pace amidst the gloom:. Darkness is ever round nay way With little space for sunbeam-room. Yet Christian sadness is divine, Even as thy patient sadness was: - V The salt tears in our life's dark wine v Fell in it from the saving cross. > '_ ' Bitter the bread of our repast; Yet doth a sweet the bitter leaven: Our sorrow is the shadow cast Around it by the light of heaven.' O light in Light, shine down from Heaven!