The Steeple Ringeth A Knell,
But The Fairies' Silvery Bell
Is The Voice Of That Gentle Folk,
Or Else The Horizon That Spoke.
Its metal is not of brass,
But air, and water, and glass,
And under a cloud it is swung,
And by the wind it is rung.
When the steeple tolleth the noon,
It soundeth not so soon,
Yet it rings a far earlier hour,
And the sun has not reached its tower.
On the other hand, the road runs up to Carlisle, city of the
woods, which, if it is less civil, is the more natural. It does
well hold the earth together. It gets laughed at because it is a
small town, I know, but nevertheless it is a place where great
men may be born any day, for fair winds and foul blow right on
over it without distinction. It has a meeting-house and
horse-sheds, a tavern and a blacksmith's shop, for centre, and a
good deal of wood to cut and cord yet. And
"Bedford, most noble Bedford,
I shall not thee forget."
History has remembered thee; especially that meek and humble
petition of thy old planters, like the wailing of the Lord's own
people, "To the gentlemen, the selectmen" of Concord, praying to
be erected into a separate parish. We can hardly credit that so
plaintive a psalm resounded but little more than a century ago
along these Babylonish waters. "In the extreme difficult seasons
of heat and cold," said they, "we were ready to say of the
Sabbath, Behold what a weariness is it." - "Gentlemen, if our
seeking to draw off proceed from any disaffection to our present
Reverend Pastor, or the Christian Society with whom we have taken
such sweet counsel together, and walked unto the house of God in
company, then hear us not this day, but we greatly desire, if God
please, to be eased of our burden on the Sabbath, the travel and
fatigue thereof, that the word of God may be nigh to us, near to
our houses and in our hearts, that we and our little ones may
serve the Lord.
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