Praying for all in those appointed phrases,
Like a vast river, from a thousand fountains
Swoll'n with the waters of the lakes and mountains,
The pastor bears along the prayers and praises
Of many souls in channel well defined,
Yet leaves no drop of prayer or praise behind.
We cannot but sympathize with the poet: so powerful and attractive are the ancient words that have come to us down the ages fraught with the memories of man's need and spiritual striving, so unworthy often do we feel the language of extempore prayer. Yet if we have only once or twice experienced what unpremeditated prayer may be, when it is offered in the true priestly spirit, in deep sympathy with the needs and longings of those present, diverse though they be, and in close harmony with the peculiar demands of the time and place, we know how such prayer can, as nothing else, gather up our hidden desires and bring our whole souls with it into the sense of communion with the source of the strength and help that we need, towards which our arms stretch out as we listen, and are not stretched in vain.
It is easy for us to see how often priesthood in worship has come short of its ideal; still sadder surely has been our failure to make real the priest- hood of daily life. A family priesthood of the simplest kind has been for centuries characteristic of Hebrew religious life, and this household priest- [p.111] hood of the father, or of both father and mother, is a very real thing in Christendom, especially where the influence of the Reformation is strongest. But we need not only this intimate and beautiful priesthood, but one which shall extend to the wider families of the city, the nation and mankind. We have to remember that our lives are not our own, that we are each representatives, and that every act of ours must have pontifical significance for others; more than that our very thoughts and desires go out far beyond our own lives and help to weave cords which shall pull others upwards or drag them down to our level. The words of Christ's prayer in the Gospel "For their sakes I sanctify myself" are full of significance. If the Master thus consecrates his life and overcomes the evil, thrusting aside the temptation to take the lower and easier path and dedicating his whole will and nature to the Divine will, in order that his disciples may be helped to reach unity with each other and with him, then must the disciples too understand that their own efforts after a better and cleaner and more unselfish life are not made for themselves alone. There is no man that fights in the secret of his own life against evils and temptations, of which others can know nothing, but may feel cheered to remember that his is, after all, no lonely battle. He is an outpost, hidden from his fellow combatants perhaps, but his welfare concerns the whole company, his victory is not for one life, but for all. In this spirit surely [p.112] in every act and thought of life a man may be made a priest.
How beautiful an idea that was which in ancient Rome made of bridge-building a religious deed, so that the chief bridge-builder, the Pontifex Maximus, was also the chief priest. Nor was the thought that bridge-building was a sacred act wholly lost with Paganism, for in the middle ages amongst the many religious societies which existed to promote human welfare and to lessen by sharing them the burdens of life, was the Order of Pontiff Brothers or bridge-builders. Perhaps such societies as this came into being more especially to make easier the perilous pilgrims' roads along which men must pass to visit the holy places and shrines of the Saints. Sometimes a pilgrim who had made the journey would join himself with others who had realized its hardships to make the way lighter for those who should follow in their steps. Sometimes, it may be, men who had not the time or money and perhaps lacked even the courage to make the perilous voyage themselves, yet gladly gave of their labour to help to build the bridge. They could never make use of it, but they hoped that others, better men and more fortunate than they, would pass over it to behold the holy sights which they themselves might never see, and long after they were dead their work would thus stand fast. Thus the great bridge of Avignon still rests on the piers built seven hundred years ago by the Pontiff Brothers, and the feet of [p.113] the little children dance over the arches which the pilgrims used to tread.
To many of the early bridges there still cling memories which tell of some noble founder, but there is a peculiar beauty in the story of the building of the Bridge of Avignon by Saint Benezet. Of this Saint Benezet, or Little St. Benedict, for the friendly pet name can but imperfectly be rendered into English, we know only a little; but across the mists of tradition we catch a glimpse of him, a boy tending the sheep upon the distant hillside and there receiving a strange heavenly call, bidding him go build a bridge where none had yet been, across the broad river at Avignon, where hitherto men had crossed the Rhone often with peril, and always with toil. Shepherd's staff in hand, the lad came to Avignon and entered the church; there he spoke his message to bishop and people, and pleaded with them to help build the bridge. Bishop and people were incredulous, and so too was the mayor when appeal was made to him, but Benezet persisted, and little by little men began to help him. They tell of how he was in some way able to raise the big stones and to lift weights which others failed to move. The first piers began to rise; Benezet and others joined the Order of Pontiff Brothers and under his guidance the work went on. It was the labour of years, and of immense effort, and before the bridge was completed its boy builder died and they buried him in a little chapel above one of the great piers. But [p.114] the building went on, the spirit that Benezet had brought to it did not die with him, and in due time the bridge was built, where men would have toiled and struggled still with the waters, but for the faithfulness of a shepherd boy.