Christmas at the hall

by T. J. Terrington

An Elegy on Edith.

Place o’er her tomb a simple cross,

The emblem of Redemptive love,

To bid us hope, amidst our loss,

And trace her flight to realms above.

She lies not there—the feeble frame

Alone reposes ’neath the sod;

But her bright soul, that vital flame

Now shines before the throne of God.

Her eye so dark, will glance no more,

Her raven hair in ringlets wave;

The music of her voice is o’er,

And her light step is in the grave.

No more will mortal eye behold

That form so lovely, soft, and fair;

Now blending with the earth’s damp mould,

Or scattered through the realms of air.

Her tears are dried, but she hath left

To us a legacy of tears;

To be of her sweet love bereft

Must dim the eye through future years!

But ah! much deeper grief will wring

And anguish tear that mother’s breast,

Where she in infancy did cling

And slumbered in a holy rest.

But I forbear—and seek to calm

All earthly grief with heavenly hope,

And aided by its healing balm

Give not my hidden sorrow scope.

Then let us raise our thoughts on high,

And trace her spirit’s glorious flight

From sorrow, pain, and agony

To peace and joy in worlds of light.

Is she afar? ah! thin the veil

That hides the spirit-land from view;

Such thoughts instinctively prevail,

And my fond heart believes them true.

The angels’ is an inner world,

Not distant, but in life more high;

Though now in fleshly vestments furled

To us are kindred spirits nigh.

And I can think that when I quit

This “earthly house” for glory bright,

Me first her angel-smile will greet,

And her hand lead through realms of light.

Throughout the strain a mournful sadness breathed,

Yet mixed with elevated hope, and made

All bosoms move in sympathy, and eyes

Suffuse themselves with tears. But not of grief

And sorrow unalloyed. For there are thoughts

So lofty, elevated, pure and sweet,

Linked with affection and devotion, warm

In contemplating loved ones passed from earth,

That the bright tears they strew upon the cheek

Are more like dew-drops, ’neath some twilight sky

All glad and rosy, than the chilling rain

That falls from gloomy clouds. Now sacred thought

Was kindled in each breast, and musings calm

Which suited well the season and the hour;

Then all spoke of retiring, for the time

When the first star that shewed its feeble light,

Whilst day was darkening, in the furthest east,

Should have attained its highest point in heaven

Had come, but oh how swiftly! Happy hours

And peaceful had been spent, and every heart

Was filled with gladness; and a holier love

Warmed every bosom, such sweet fellowship

Had reigned triumphant there. With cheerful looks

And grateful, farewell greetings for the night

To host and hostess, each delighted guest

Went to the room warm hospitality

Had set apart for him; yet with the hope,

The glad and confident hope that day would bring—

And many days succeeding—such pure joys

And pleasures innocent, as o’er his heart

Had softly flowed amid the recent hours

Of social glee. The antique hall was soon

By its gay crowd deserted. On the hearth

The giant yule-log, lessened to a stick,

Burnt with a crimson glow, but through a veil

Of thin white wavering ash. The warmth it gave

Is now diminished, and the keen frost-air

Pierces the lonely room. Farewell old scene

Of oft-remembered joys—to thee, good night!

And now withdrawn to solitude, I may

Let thought make free excursions, and review

The recent hours of pleasure. There are times

When we think inwardly, that is more deep

Within our being, so that images

Distinct and palpable, are scarcely seen

To flit before the mental eye; yet thought

Rolls on in fulness, like a mountain stream

Deep, sweeping, vast, but ’neath the clouds of night

Silent and unrevealed. Such most is felt

When many persons, actions, words, and things

Have passed before us quickly; then they crowd

The mind too fully, to let each stand out

In individual being; but they all

Are lodged within the memory, and come forth

So fresh and vital, during future days,

And oft so unexpectedly, we start

To see them rise again as from the grave.

Oh wondrous is our being! every thing

That e’er hath passed before us: every thought

That flitted cloud-like o’er our realm of mind;

And every feeling that hath urged the heart,

E’en with a slight vibration, seems to leave

A certain impress stamped upon the soul

As with a seal eternal: sendeth forth

A living substance, from the which is built

Our being and identity; conjoins

By mystic sympathies, and secret links,

Our spirits unto others. Little knows

Philosophy, though brightly on advance,

About the inner world, the world of mind.

The earth’s deep crust she pierced hath, and made

Mankind astonished at its boundless age;

Her outstretched hand has spanned the wilds of space,

And shewn the distance infinite of stars;

Her hawk-like glance hath downward looked, and seen

Whole worlds of vital being in dim grains

As small as summer dust. High are these truths,

And mighty and ennobling; but still more

And greater have to come, when she hath searched

The world of matter more, till its known laws,

And comprehended principles have given

A greater strength, and more divining power

To pierce far deeper mysteries, and scan

The inner world of spirit. Newton learnt

The law that binds the universe in one

From a mere apple’s fall. If sages pore

As thoughtfully on mind, may they not bring

Some hidden things to light, that may reveal

Great laws and simple, that shall elevate

All science far beyond its present flight,

Though eagle-like its wing now seems to reach

The sun of Truth, so loftily it soars.

How warm and pleasant is this curtained room

Assigned for night’s repose. The cheerful fire,

With its bright tongues of flame, illuminates

The walls with fitful gleams, and ruddier light

Than issues from the lamp. ’Twere sweet to sit

And muse for some hours longer, but the night

Is far advanced, and though the stillness round

Invites to contemplation, yet the time

And prudence too forbids. Before I give

Myself to slumber let me draw aside

The heavy curtain, o’er the window hung,

Excluding cold and wind; and thence look forth

Upon the landscape to behold the scene

Arrayed in winter’s garb. Oh gorgeous sight,

Unutterably grand! The morn was black

And dark and dismal; through the middle day

The storm’s white burden was cast down to earth

With strange rapidity; and now the night

Shines bright and glorious, beautiful and fair!

Far o’er the head, so lofty that the eye

Can scarce rise up to view her, glows the moon

With keen intensity of silver light,

And from her heavenly altitude pours down

Such floods of radiance on the snow-clad earth

As fills the heart with rapture. Scarce a star

Can shew its beam amid the purple sky

So rich her bright rays spread. The frosty air,

Sharp, keen, and subtle, hath a delicate haze

That beautifies all objects, giving them

A softer aspect, a more lovely hue,

A spirit-like appearance. On the trees,

Leafless and verdureless, a foliage lies

Of splendid whiteness. A strange stillness holds

Their forms gigantic, and their stretching boughs,

As if they slumbered in the midnight air.

Short shadows cast they on the even ground,

Night’s silver regent hath her throne so nigh

The summit of heaven’s arch. Along the lawn

How softly spreads the radiant plain of snow,

More smooth and level than a temple floor

Of alabaster framed. O’er all the beds

And borders ranged for flowers, no smaller shrub

Or plant can shew a branch; but buried deep

Beneath a downy burden, mark their tombs

By hemispheres of white. When looking far

Across the landscape, every object gleams

As it recedes by distance, more refined,

More unsubstantial, till the veiling mist,

Long ere the eye can reach th’ horizon’s bound,

In softened beauty, blends the earth with heaven.

Far to the left, some cottage roofs appear,

Where lies the village, rearing chimneys tall,

Now smokeless in the moonlight. Nigh the wood

Which swells in highest grandeur, o’er the hill

That rises to the westward, stands the church

All pure and peaceful in the holy light.

On its embattled tower the moonbeams fall,

And seem to hallow it, so fair and calm

It gleams within them. From its summit shoots

The tall and taper spire, and high o’ertops

The loftiest trees around, and stands alone

Amid the ether, whilst its form sublime

With emblematic finger points to heaven!

When morn arises, from that ancient tower

An anthem-peal will ring, a music rich

And pregnant with deep thoughts. For centuries

The selfsame tones have burst upon the air

And made it thrill with harmony. It fell

On ears that listen on this earth no more,

And when we hear it, it will be a link

Uniting us with them. Oh! mystical

And wonderful is sound. A single note

May call our past life up, and make it live

All vivid in the present. Every thing

Has its own voice, its sound. As once I passed—

Not having passed it for a length of years—

An old park-gate in manhood, which I oft

Had entered when a boy, the simple click

Of its loud latch, was recognised again

In one brief moment, and it brought to sight

All those companions who, in school-boy days,

Had there surrounded me; and heavy thoughts

Pressed on my spirit, for I knew that some

Were carried to the grave; and some were gone

I knew not whither; and the most, perhaps,

I should behold no more! Then what deep thoughts,

What thoughts of piety should Christmas bells

Awake within the soul! Their mighty tones

Teem with the memories of two thousand years

Or nigh thereto. What wonderful events

Since then have happened, how the world hath changed,

And man hath been exalted, since the Words

Divine of Christ were mingled with his lore!

And who is he? “Emanuel, God with us!”

O mighty name and nature, on his arm

“The government shall rest!” In him we see

Jehovah manifest! To us “a child

Is born, a son is given,” and his name

Is “Wonderful!” Oh wonderful indeed

That he who ’habiteth eternity

Should stand revealed in time; that he who dwells

Far o’er the heavens, should yet descend to earth;

That He, enthroned in “unapproached light”

Should visit this world’s darkness! Many names

And titles glorious, hath the Son of God,

In whom we see the Father, one with Him

So true and absolute, whoso beholds

The Son beholds the Father. Search the Word

And see if these things be so; let it tell

The truth in its own language. “In Him dwells

The fullness of the Godhead bodily.” He is

“The true God and Eternal life.” In flesh

Christ came, and he “is over all God blest

For evermore.” Still further it reveals

“God was in Christ,” and “reconciling” there

“The world unto himself.” Jehovah says

Times oft repeated in the elder Word

He is the Saviour, and none else but He;

He is Redeemer, and he will not give

His glory to another. We should hold

Exalted notions of that Saviour who

Was born to David, and is “Christ the Lord.”

Whom prophecy hath named “the Mighty God,

The everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

What mighty words, and wonderful are these

To waken thought within the humble mind

And make it strive to apprehend and know

The mystery sublime. But comprehend

It never can, such lies not in the power

Of finite mind, its feeble grasp can ne’er

Include infinity. Then let us pause

And ponder deeply, for the truth is not

More difficult to hold, or to believe,

Than that creation at the first sprang forth

Beneath the fiat of Almighty Will,

And finitude was born, and time began!

Ring out ye bells! and with glad notes proclaim

The glorious advent of the Prince of Peace.

And let your melodies resound aloud

Till every heart with pious joy is filled!

Princes of war have desolated earth

And ravaged nations, cities, homes, and hearths,

Till men cried out in misery, and made

The vaulted heaven re-echo to their cries.

But wars shall cease, and men shall beat at length

Their swords to ploughshares; and all peaceful arts

Shall flourish on the earth. Then Truth shall shine

With her own cheerful radiant light, and bless

The kingdoms of the World, and Goodness dwell

Enthroned in every heart. Then life shall run

In one pure current, as a crystal stream,

And every deed in excellence shall shine

Like stars of heaven. A bond of holy love

Shall make a glorious brotherhood of man,

And heaven-descended charity shall link

The nations into one. Then holy joy

Shall elevate each heart, the song of praise

Burst gladly from each lip, and men shall lift

Their voice in anthems, whose ascending notes

Shall fill the skies with harmony sublime.

Oh! that the bright and happy hour were come

When earth exulting shall behold the reign

Of Christ the great Messiah! Once he came,

In deep humility, to taste of death,

In weakness and in weariness; but soon

As prophecy foretells, he shall appear

Revealed to men, in majesty and might.

In spirit and in power, to build his church,

His kingdom, on the earth, and stablish it

In peace profound, in holiness secure,

In truth unshaken, happiness supreme

And rich with glory that shall know no end!

Then shall Jerusalem lift up her voice

In songs of gladness, when she is arrayed

In garments fair of righteousness; her head

Encrowned with wisdom’s sparkling diadem,

And she rejoiced o’er as a beauteous bride

By Him who framed her. Then her sun no more

Shall set in darkness, or her moon withdraw,

But God shall be her everlasting light,

Her walls Salvation, her wide portals Praise,

And her deep mourning cease for evermore!

My meditations have ascended high,

Yet are they fitting to the time; it brings

Unnumbered thoughts like these! The human soul

Created in God’s image seems to share

In His infinity. Evolving thought,

For ever growing, can within it dwell,

And oft ascending and ascending still

To higher points of elevated Truth,

View things around it with extended glance,

And with more god-like insight. What can fill

Its vast capacity, or quench the thirst

It bears for knowledge. It was born to rise

For ever upward into brighter light!

Lift high the banner of “Excelsior.”

On! on! the watchword! Let us search for Truth

With steadfast heart, and holy trust in God,

Then never can we fail! Where shall we find

The thing we look for? In the musty tomes

Of darkening ages, in the harsh decrees

Of priests king-ruling, in the twilight dim

That settles on the past! Ah! no, not there

Look to the future, to the morning light

Appearing in the east! Three books are writ,

Three books divine; their pages rightly conned

Will blend their full triunity of Truth

In one bright blaze of wisdom. Pierce within,

And read the volume there, and it will tell

Of something higher than the world around,

More living, more substantial; look abroad,

O’er the vast universe of worlds and suns,

That border on infinitude; then turn

Another page, and read inscribed thereon,

A like infinitude, within the small

And tiny measurements of living grains

And vital atoms, all disposed by laws

Sublime in their simplicity, that bind

The great and little in one mighty whole.

Lessons like these will fit the mind to see

That in a written book, indeed divine,

A like infinitude of Truth must dwell

Concealed within the letter. Human minds

That have enlodged themselves in books, leave there

A record of their greatness. Learned men

Have conned the documents, that sages writ,

With care unceasing, and at last confessed

They had not reached the ultimate of thought

Embodied in them. What must be the depths,

The vast profundities of pages penned

From perfect inspiration? Christ hath said

Flesh profits nothing, but the words I speak

Are spirit and are life. The letter kills,

The spirit giveth life, hath Paul announced.

How shall we pierce this body to let forth

The spirit of pure truth. From whence attain

The “key of knowledge” to unlock the stores

Of hidden wisdom in the word divine.

The promise saith that brighter light shall come,

And many hearts now need it! Thought, with them,

Hath been enlarged by pure philosophy,

From nature’s pregnant book. They yearn to see

Its perfect harmony with truth divine,

And find all streamlets from the Fount of Truth

Blend in one lucid river. Let us wait

In patience and humility the time

Of this grand consummation! Let us up

To the high mountain tops, from thence to watch

The dawning sunlight of earth’s brighter day.

Such day shall come, though it hath tarred long,

And yet may tarry, for the certain harp

Of sacred prophecy hath oft foretold

Its glorious advent—let us watch, and wait!

It is full time that I should now arrest

Thought’s current in the midst. Though on a theme

So full and teeming, it might swiftly run

Its rapid course for ever. O’er the earth

The cold increases, and the bitter frost

Draws flowers upon each pane. I must retire

From this unsullied prospect, fair and calm

And eminently beautiful. The fire

Burns low within the grate, and embers lie

In darkness on the hearth, that but of late

Were red and glowing. In the shade of sleep,

And night’s oblivion, I must seek to quench

The fire of thought, and for awhile forego

A life of consciousness. Yet with a hope

Of sweet refreshment, and with strength renewed,

To spring up cheerful when the morning sun

Makes bright the winter landscape, and enjoy

That intellectual pleasure, pure delight,

And social intercourse, that ever form

The banquet rich of Christmas at the Hall!

END OF CHRISTMAS AT THE HALL.