  “When the Son of Man cometh, shall he find faith in the earth?” Luke xviii. 8. The merry Christmas time, With song and silvery chime, Had come at last; And brightly glowed each hearth, While winter, o’er the earth, Its snows had cast. High in the old cathedral tower, The ponderous bell majestic swung, And with its voice of solemn power A summons to the people rung. Then, forth from lowly walls, And proud, ancestral halls, Came rich and poor, And faces wreathed with smiles Thronged the cathedral aisles As ne’er before. And costly jewels glittered bright, For groined arch and spacious nave Were radiant with excess of light. The deep-toned organ’s swell Like billows rose and fell, In floods of sound; And the “Te Deum” rung, As if by angels sung, In space profound. Forth the majestic anthem rolled In harmony complete, and then Pealed forth the angels’ song of old, Of “peace on earth, good will to men.” As the full chorus ceased, Up rose the white-robed priest, With solemn air; With hands toward heaven outspread, He bowed his stately head In formal prayer. Then, like some breathless, holy spell, Upon the hushed and reverent crowd, A deep, impressive silence fell, And hands were clasped, and heads were bowed. “Saviour of All!” he cried, “Thou who wast crucified For sinful man! We worship at thy feet, For thou hast made complete Salvation’s plan. Come to thy people, Lord, once more, And let the nations hear again The song the angels sung of yore, Of ‘peace on earth, good will to men.’” As if his prayer was heard, A sudden trembling stirred The walls around. The doors, wide open flung, On ponderous hinges swung, With solemn sound. And then, straight up the foot-worn aisle, A strange procession made its way, In garments coarse, of simplest style, A strange, incongruous array. The first, most rudely clad, A leathern girdle had About him bound. The next, in humblest guise, Raised not his mournful eyes From off the ground. And others, flushed with sin and shame, And women, with their faces bowed In deep contrition, slowly came. No voice was heard, or sound, From the vast concourse round, Outspreading wide. But onward still they passed, Until they gained at last The altar side. Then said the lowly one, “O ye! Who celebrate a Saviour’s birth, Should he return again, would he Find faith among the sons of earth?” Quick, with an angry frown, The haughty priest looked down Upon the crowd. “Who are ye, that ye dare Invade this house of prayer?” He cried aloud. “This temple, sacred to the Lord, Not thus shall be profaned by you: Your deeds with his do not accord— Begone! Begone, ye vagrant crew! The lowly one replied, “These, standing by my side, Came at my call; Nor need they have one fear, With me to enter here— God loves them all. Thou hypocrite! thou dost reject Me, through thy most unchristian creed, And making truth of none effect, Thou dost dishonor me indeed.” Around the stranger’s head A radiant halo spread Its glories bright; His meek and tender face Beamed with transcendent grace, And heavenly light. There, mighty in his power for good, So gentle and divinely sweet, The “Christus Consolator” stood, With weeping sinners at his feet. “We must go hence,” he said, “To find the living bread. Come, follow me! My Father’s house above Is full of light and love, And all is free. The brazen bell majestic swung, As if some strange, mysterious power To sudden speech had moved its tongue. O Christ! thou friend of men! When thou shalt come again, Through Truth’s new birth, May all the fruits of peace Be found in rich increase Upon the earth. Then shall the song of sweet accord, Sung by the heavenly hosts of yore, To hail the coming of their Lord, Sound through the ages evermore. |
|
