The Taper by Hezekiah Butterworth
I stood in the old Cathedral
Amid the gloaming cold;
Before me was the chancel
And unlit lamps of gold.
Amid the gloaming cold;
Before me was the chancel
And unlit lamps of gold.
From the mullioned window's chalice
Was spilled the wine of light,
And across the winter valleys
Was drawn the wing of night.
The frescos of the angels
Above me were unseen,
And viewless were the statues
Each pillared arch between.
The chancel door swung open;
There came a feeble light,
Whose halos like a mantle
Fell over the acolyte.
And one by one he kindled
The silver lamps and gold,
And the old Cathedral's glories
Before my eyes unrolled.
The jet of light was feeble;
The lamps were stars of flame
And I could read behind them
Immanuel's wondrous name.
The taper - light's evangel -
Touched all the chandeliers;
As if by Heaven transfigured.
Appeared the Saints and seers.
Along the sculptured arches
Appeared the statues dim;
And pealed the stormy organ
The peaceful advent hymn.
And as the form retreating
Passed slowly from my sight.
Eclipsed in lights it kindled
Was lost the taper's light.
One taper lights a thousand,
Yet shines as it has shone,
And the humblest light may kindle
A brighter than its own.
And if within these pages,
One touch of sympathy
May to a heart more helpful
An inspiration be,
Not vainly moves the taper
O'er life's cathedral floor,
Though it may pass unheeded
Without the chancel door.
