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;