The Vicar of Morwenstow: Being a Life of Robert Stephen Hawker, M.A. — John Shaqi
The Vicar of Morwenstow: Being a Life of Robert Stephen Hawker, M.A.Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
General
The Vicar of Morwenstow: Being a Life of Robert Stephen Hawker, M.A.
Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
Hawker, Robert Stephen, 1803?-1875
‘Lord, dismiss us with Thy blessing,
High and low, and rich and poor:
May we all, Thy fear possessing,
Go in peace, and sin no more!
Lord, requite not as we merit;
Thy displeasure all must fear:
As of old, so let Thy Spirit
Still the dove’s resemblance bear.
May that Spirit dwell within us!
May its love our refuge be!
So shall no temptation win us
From the path that leads to Thee.
So when these our lips shall wither,
So when fails each earthly tone,
May we sing once more together
Hymns of glory round Thy throne!’
“Now, listen to the old version, grandfather:—
‘Lord, dismiss us with Thy blessing;
Fill our hearts with joy and peace;
Let us each Thy love possessing,
Triumph in redeeming grace.
Oh, refresh us,
Travelling through this wilderness!
Thanks we give, and adoration,
For the Gospel’s joyous sound;
May the founts of Thy salvation
In our hearts and lives abound!
May Thy presence
With us evermore be found!’
“This one is crude and flat; don’t you think so, grandfather?”
“Crude and flat, sir! Young puppy, it is _mine!_ I wrote that hymn.”
“Oh! I beg your pardon, grandfather; I did not know that: it is a very
nice hymn indeed; but—but _grace_ is a bad rhyme for _peace_, and one
naturally wishes to put grease in its place. Your hymn may be good”—and,
as he went out of the door—“but mine is better.”
Robert was sent to a boarding-school by his grandfather; where, I do not
know, nor does it much matter, for he stayed there only one night. He
arrived in the evening, and was delivered over by the doctor to a very
godly but close-fisted master. Robert did not approve of being sent
supperless to bed, still less did he approve of the bed and bedroom in
which he was placed.
Next morning the dominie was shaving at his window, when he saw his
pupil, with his portmanteau on his back, striding across the lawn, with
reckless indifference to the flower-beds, singing at the top of his
voice, “Lord, dismiss us with Thy blessing.” He shouted after him from
the window, but Robert was deaf. The boy flung his portmanteau over the
hedge, jumped after it, and was seen no more at that school.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account