“Time like an ever-rolling stream, Bears all its sons away; They fly forgotten, as a dream Dies at the opening day.” Then, with gathering strength, came again the cry for help and hope: “O God, our Help in ages past, Our Hope for years to come, Be Thou our guard while troubles last, And our eternal home.” And all the people said “Amen.” A rustle of expectancy, a settling movement, and, over the heads of the sitting congregation, Herrick and his companion could see the preacher. They exchanged quick glances of pleased surprise. The tall priest looking down with wistful eyes upon the many faces was Father Francis. There were others in the church besides themselves who, in the shadowed after-time, recalled the preacher’s look and words that night. In this narrative, though Father Francis has an honoured place, only the gist of what he said need be recorded. “_Watchman, what of the night?_” There were those, he said--having given out the text--who saw a dark night gathering over England. The growth of luxury and self-indulgence, the follies of the rich, the miseries of the poor, the insatiable thirst for pleasure and excitement, the struggle between capital and labour, and the faltering of national faith in the eternal verities--these converging causes were shaping the materials for a great catastrophe. If righteousness exalted a nation, assuredly unrighteousness would lay it in the dust. In the book of this same prophet Isaiah it was written: “For the nation and kingdom that will not serve Thee shall perish; yea, those nations shall be utterly wasted.” Again and again such prophecies had been fulfilled. The once mighty empires of the East, honeycombed with sensuality and corruption, had long since fallen into decay. The Roman eagle, beneath which the whole world had cowered in awe, no longer soared aloft; Carthage had fallen; Athens and Alexandria, and many another ancient capital of arms or learning, had lost their power and proud pre-eminence. The ruins of Nineveh lay buried beneath the sands and dust of centuries; Babylon the mighty, with its idols of silver and gold, had been laid low. “Come down and sit in the dust, O virgin daughter of Babylon, sit on the ground; there is no throne, O daughter of the Chaldeans; for thou shalt no more be called young and delicate. Take the millstones and grind meal. Sit thou silent, and get thee into darkness ... for thou shalt no more be called the lady of kingdoms.”