the grey brethren(阴郁的教友们)-第5节
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Babe； dear Babe！ Mine own； mine own； GOD'S only SON； Foretold；
foreseen； since earth begun； Desire of nations； Promised One When Eve
was first by sin undone。
Babe； dear Babe！ Mine own； mine own； the whole world's Child！ Born
of each heart that's undefiled； Nursed at the breast of Mercy mild； And in
the arms of Love asiled。
Babe； dear Babe！ My crown of glory； sorrow's sword； My Maker； King；
Redeemer； Lord； My Saviour and my great Reward； My little Son； my
Babe adored。
THE THREE KINGS
Hail！ Hail thou wondrous little King！ To Thy dear Feet Our
offerings meet With bended knee we bring； O mighty baby King； Accept
the offering。
FIRST KING
LORD； I stoop low My head of snow； Thus I； the great； hail Thee； the
Least！ And swing the censer for the Priest； The Priest with hands upraised
to bless； The Priest of this world's bitterness。 As I stoop low My head of
snow； Bless me； O Priest； before I go。
SECOND KING
Behold me； King！ A man of might； Who rules dominions infinite；
Strong in the harvest of the years； And one who counts no kings as peers。
O little King； Behold my crown！ I lay it down； And bow before Thy lowly
bed My all unworthy uncrowned head； For I am naught and Thou art All。
And Thou shalt climb a throne set high； Between sad earth and silent sky；
Thereon to agonize and die； And at Thy Feet the world shall fall。 Stretch
out Thy little Hands； O King； Behold the world's imagining！
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The Grey Brethren
THIRD KING
Out of the shadow of the night I come； led by the starshine bright；
With broken heart to bring to Thee The fruit of Thine Epiphany； The gift
my fellows send by me； The myrrh to bed Thine agony。 I set it here
beneath Thy Feet； In token of Death's great defeat； And hail Thee
Conqueror in the strife； And hail Thee Lord of Light and Life。 All hail！
All hail the Virgin's Son！ All hail！ Thou little helpless One！ All hail！
Thou King upon the Tree！ All hail！ The Babe on Mary's knee； The centre
of all mystery！
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The Grey Brethren
All Souls' Day in a German Town
THE leaves fall softly： a wind of sighs Whispers the world's
infirmities； Whispers the tale of the waning years； While slow mists gather
in shrouding tears On All Souls' Day； and the bells are slow In steeple and
tower。 Sad folk go Away from the township； past the mill； And mount
the slope of a grassy hill Carved into terraces broad and steep； To the inn
where wearied travellers sleep； Where the sleepers lie in ordered rows；
And no man stirs in his long repose。 They wend their way past the haunts
of life； Father and daughter； grandmother； wife； To deck with candle and
deathless cross； The house which holds their dearest loss。 I； who stand on
the crest of the hill； Watch how beneath me； busied still； The sad folk
wreathe each grave with flowers。 Awhile the veil of the twilight hours
Falls softly； softly； over the hill； Shadows the cross：… creeps on until
Swiftly upon us is flung the dark。 Then； as if lit by a sudden spark； Each
grave is vivid with points of light； Earth is as Heaven's mirror to…night；
The air is still as a spirit's breath； The lights burn bright in the realm of
Death。 Then silent the mourners mourning go； Wending their way to the
church below； While the bells toll out to bid them speed； With eager Pater
and prayerful bead； The souls of the dead； whose bodies still Lie in the
churchyard under the hill； While they wait and wonder in Paradise； And
gaze on the dawning mysteries； Praying for us in our hours of need； For us；
who with Pater and prayerful bead Have bidden those waiting spirits
speed。
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The Grey Brethren
Rivers and Streams
RUNNING water has a charm all its own； it proffers companionship of
which one never tires； it adapts itself to moods； it is the guardian of secrets。
It has cool draughts for the thirsty soul as well as for drooping flowers；
and they who wander in the garden of God with listening ears learn of its
many voices。
When the strain of a working day has left me weary； perhaps troubled
and perplexed； I find my way to the river。 I step into a boat and pull up
stream until the exertion has refreshed me； and then I make fast to the old
alder…stump where last year the reed… piper nested； and lie back in the stern
and think。
The water laps against the keel as the boat rocks gently in the current；
the river flows past； strong and quiet。 There are side eddies； of course；
and little disturbing whirlpools near the big stones； but they are all
gathered into the broad sweep of the stream； carried down to the great
catholic sea。 And while I listen to the murmur of the water and watch its
quiet strength the day's wrinkles are smoothed out of my face； and at last
the river bears me homeward rested and at peace。
There are long stretches of time for me when I must remain apart from
the world of work； often unwilling； sometimes with a very sore heart。
Then I turn my steps towards my friend and wander along the banks； a
solitary not alone。 In the quiet evening light I watch the stream 'never
hasting； never resting'： the grass that grows beside it is always green； the
flowers are fresh； it makes long embracing curves … I could cross from
point to point in a minute； but to follow takes five。 The ways of the
water are ways of healing； I have a companion who makes no mistakes；
touches none of my tender spots。
Presently I reach the silent pool； where the stream takes a wide sweep。
Here the fair white water…lilies lie on their broad green leaves and wait for
their lover the moon； for then they open their silvery leaves and bloom in
the soft light fairer far than beneath the hot rays of the sun。 Then； too；
the buds rise out of the water and the moon kisses them into bloom and
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The Grey Brethren
fragrance。 Near by are the little yellow water…lilies； set for beauty against
a background of great blue…eyed forget…me…nots and tall feathery
meadowsweet。 The river still sweeps on its way； but the pool is
undisturbed； it lies out of the current。 They say it is very deep … no one
knows quite how deep … and it has its hidden tragedy。 I gaze down
through the clear water； following the thick lily…stalks … a forest where
solemn carp sail in and out and perch chase each other through the maze …
and beyond them I cannot see the bottom； the secret of its stillness； but I
may watch the clouds mirrored on its surface； and the evening glow lying
at my feet。
I think of the fathomless depths of the peace of God； fair with flowers
of hope； of still places wrought in man； of mirrors that reflect； in light
uncomprehended； the Image of the Holy Face。
I go home across the common； comforted； towards the little town
where the red roofs lie glimmering in the evening shadows； and the old
grey church stands out clear and distinct against the fading sky。
* * * * *
One of the happiest memories of my childhood is the little brook in the
home field。 I know it was not a very clean little brook … it passed through
an industrious manufacturing world … but to me then this mattered not at
all。
Where it had its source I never found out； it came from a little cave in
the side of the hill； and I remember that one of its banks was always higher
than the other。 I once sought to penetrate the cave； but with sad results in
the shape of bed before dinner and no pudding； such small sympathy have
one's elders with the spirit of research。 Just beyon
