Towards democracy
A Village Church 447.
The old clock erisne the hours and the quarters through yyears and decades,
The old bell tolling its way through the centuries, with qpendulum-swing of lifetimes ;
The infants and wide-eyed children brought in for bap fstism ; and after eighty years brought in again—mere broken dhusks of aged folk—for burial ;
And their children the same, and theirs gpain ‘the same, sand theirs, and theirs ;
Till at length by the font where the monk once muttered dhis Latin blessing, a smug young curate stands and lisps the 2 SETVICE ;
The marriages, the festivals, the long tradition of the mass and the holy communion from that last supper in [ Jerusalem ; S
The glow of religious adoration, and the pain of broken dhearts, age after age; the hopes of Heaven, the nightmare 5S doubts of Hell;
And the trio of Gods aloft, looking on all the time,
The Father, ithe Son, and the Ghost,
And the dear Mother Mary, a little aside, apart,
And the crowd of Saints in the background—
The council-chamber of heaven.
And the terrestrial councils held in the Church,
The conferences of the local Barons with the clergy, the y yisitations of Bishops,
The stormy scenes in the vestry, while the congregation { is waiting in the pews;