A Catholic aspect may sometimes be observed in a single word. "And so thou lean on our fair father Christ," (Idylls, Guinevere, p. 254,) may perhaps sound strange to some ears, and is familiar to Catholics only. "He alone is our inward life," says Dr. Newman, speaking of Christ; "He not only regenerates us, but (to allude to a higher mystery) semper gignit; he is ever renewing our new birth and our heavenly sonship. In this sense he may be called, as in nature so in grace, our real Father." (Letter to Dr. Pusey, p. 89.) Hence, in the Litany of the Holy Name we say, "Jesu, Pater futuri seculi," and "Jesu, Pater pauperum."
The Catholic who well understands his own faith will always be very scrupulous about disturbing that of others. If there is anything abhorrent to him, "it is the scattering doubt and unsettling consciences without necessity." (Newman's Apologia, p. 344.) There is a well-known poem in In Memoriam, (xxxiii.,) which admirably illustrates this feeling. We quote but one verse, as the reader's memory will no doubt supply the rest.
"Leave thou thy sister, when she prays,
Her early heaven, her happy views;
Nor thou with shadowed hint confuse
A life that leads melodious ways."
The theory and practice of the wisest Catholics conform to the spirit and letter of this injunction. Their devotional life, too, is perfectly reflected in Tennyson whenever he writes of prayer. There is a depth of feeling in his expressions on this subject which reaches to the fact that prayer is the truest religion—that it is the link which unites man more closely to his Creator than any outward acts, any meditations, any professed creed, and is the spring and current of religious life.
"Evermore
Prayer from a living source within the will,
And beating up through all the bitter world,
Like fountains of sweet water in the sea,
Kept him a living soul"
Enoch Arden, p. 44.
"Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers.
Whose loves in higher love endure:
What souls possess themselves so pure?
Or is there blessedness like theirs?"
In Memoriam, xxxii.
Thus again, in the Morte d'Arthur, which was a forecast of The Idylls of the King, we are reminded of the efficacy of prayer in language worthy of being put into a Catholic's lips:
"Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice
Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
For what are men better than sheep or goats.
That nourish a blind life within the brain,
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer
Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
For so the whole round earth is every way
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God."
In the following lines, on the rarity of repentance, there is a reference to the coöperation of human will with divine grace, which equals the precision of a Catholic theologian:
"Full seldom does a man repent, or use Both grace and will to pick the vicious quitch
Of blood and custom wholly out of him.
And make all clean, and plant himself afresh."
Idylls of the King, p. 93.
In the same poem we find lines of a distinctly Catholic tone on the repentant queen's entering a convent, and on a knight who had long been the tenant of a hermitage. Guinevere speaks as follows: