"THE BLESSED COMPANY OF ALL FAITHFUL PEOPLE."
BETWEEN the gray dawn and the golden day
Methought low murmurs troubled all the land,—
Disquietude and strife where should be peace,
In the white tents of that sweet Prince of Peace
Whose hosts encamp amidst "a naughty world."
As swelled the murmurs, under all I heard
The sighing of the leaders, men of prayer,
Steadfast in faith, though sometimes faint of voice,
Worn with the heat and burden of the day,
And the half-hearted zeal of many a rank;
And harsh above their sighings louder rose
The sounds of party and opposing speech,
And louder yet the petty-tongued complaints
Of such as had not learned obedience,
That first, last law for these rebellious hearts,
Given of God and taught of Holy Church.
Anon, and piercing all the clamor through,
The Lord's own heralds blew their bugle-notes;
For He would set the faithful in array.
Then sudden silence made a little space
For the One Voice that fills the universe,
And Christ's own roll-call swept the white camp through.
Methought low murmurs troubled all the land,—
Disquietude and strife where should be peace,
In the white tents of that sweet Prince of Peace
Whose hosts encamp amidst "a naughty world."
As swelled the murmurs, under all I heard
The sighing of the leaders, men of prayer,
Steadfast in faith, though sometimes faint of voice,
Worn with the heat and burden of the day,
And the half-hearted zeal of many a rank;
And harsh above their sighings louder rose
The sounds of party and opposing speech,
And louder yet the petty-tongued complaints
Of such as had not learned obedience,
That first, last law for these rebellious hearts,
Given of God and taught of Holy Church.
Anon, and piercing all the clamor through,
The Lord's own heralds blew their bugle-notes;
For He would set the faithful in array.
Then sudden silence made a little space
For the One Voice that fills the universe,
And Christ's own roll-call swept the white camp through.
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