From a Recent Acquisition

Look on her ruined her altars;

He dwelleth there no more:

Think what her empty Churches

Have been in times of yore;

She knows the names no longer

Of her own sainted dead,

Denies the faith they once held,

The cause for which they bled.

From the poem "Jubilee of 1850" by Adelaide Procter

Oh, mighty Mother, hearken! for thy foes

Gather round thee, and exulting cry

That thine old strength is gone and thou must die

Pointing with fierce rejoing to thy woes

And is it so? The raging whirlwind blows

No stranger now than it has done of yore

Rebellion, strife and sin have been before

The same companions whom thy Master chose

We too rejoice: we know thy might is more

When to the world thy glory seemeth dim

Nor can Hell's gates prevail against Thee,

Who hearest over all th voice of Him

Who chose thy first and greatest Prince should be

A fisher on the lake of Galiee

From the poem "The Church in 1849" by Adelaide Procter