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In view of all the talk (and actions) regarding the finding and re-interment of various Monarchs, who gives thought to the 'common, people whose bones lay scattered throughout the land?
I thought that was appropriate
WHAT ’s hallowed ground? Has earth a clod
Its Maker meant not should be trod
By man, the image of his God,
Erect and free,
Unscourged by Superstition’s rod
To bow the knee?
That ’s hallowed ground where, mourned and missed,
The lips repose our love has kissed;—
But where ’s their memory’s mansion? Is ’t
Yon churchyard’s bowers?
No! in ourselves their souls exist,
A part of ours.
A kiss can consecrate the ground
Where mated hearts are mutual bound:
The spot where love’s first links were wound,
That ne’er are riven,
Is hallowed down to earth’s profound,
And up to heaven!
For time makes all but true love old;
The burning thoughts that then were told
Run molten still in memory’s mould;
And will not cool
Until the heart itself be cold
In Lethe’s pool.
What hallows ground where heroes sleep?
’T is not the sculptured piles you heap!
In dews that heavens far distant weep
Their turf may bloom;
Or Genii twine beneath the deep
Their coral tomb.
But strew his ashes to the wind
Whose sword or voice has served mankind,—
And is he dead, whose glorious mind
Lifts thine on high?—
To live in hearts we leave behind
Is not to die.
Is ’t death to fall for Freedom’s right?
He ’s dead alone that lacks her light!
And murder sullies in heaven’s sight
The sword he draws:—
What can alone ennoble fight?
A noble cause!
Give that,—and welcome War to brace
Her drums, and rend heaven’s reeking space!
The colors planted face to face,
The charging cheer,
Though Death’s pale horse lead on the chase,
Shall still be dear.
And place our trophies where men kneel
To Heaven!—but Heaven rebukes my zeal!
The cause of Truth and human weal,
O God above!
Transfer it from the sword’s appeal
To Peace and Love.
Peace, Love! the cherubim, that join
Their spread wings o’er Devotion’s shrine,
Prayers sound in vain, and temples shine,
Where they are not,—
The heart alone can make divine
Religion’s spot.
To incantations dost thou trust,
And pompous rites in domes august?
See mouldering stones and metal’s rust
Belie the vaunt,
That man can bless one pile of dust
With chime or chant.
The ticking wood-worm mocks thee, man!
Thy temples,—creeds themselves grow wan!
But there ’s a dome of nobler span,
A temple given
Thy faith, that bigots dare not ban,—
Its space is heaven!
Its roof, star-pictured Nature’s ceiling,
Where, trancing the rapt spirit’s feeling,
And God himself to man revealing,
The harmonious spheres
Make music, though unheard their pealing
By mortal ears.
Fair stars! are not your beings pure?
Can sin, can death, your worlds obscure?
Else why so swell the thoughts at your
Aspect above?
Ye must be heavens that make us sure
Of heavenly love!
And in your harmony sublime
I read the doom of distant time;
That man’s regenerate soul from crime
Shall yet be drawn,
And reason on his mortal clime
Immortal dawn.
What ’s hallowed ground? ’T is what gives birth
To sacred thoughts in souls of worth!—
Peace! Independence! Truth! go forth
Earth’s compass round;
And your high-priesthood shall make earth
All hallowed ground.
Thomas Campbell
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From my youth, I have a memory of a baby being buried outside the cemetery walls. The baby's only 'fault' was that he surprised his parents by dying before he was baptised.
Un-baptised were excluded from the concentrated ground. That was the cruel backward custom of the time. That sort of pseudo religious culture is no longer tolerated. And a good thing too!
His & several other similar little graves remain undisturbed to this very day.
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Totally agree with you, Dermot.
On my routine travels through outback WA I often came across graves, usually children's, not in graveyards, but in the bush.
Churches were very few and far between in the early days.
Hence, all Hallowed Ground
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My great- aunt used to talk about her grandmother's sister who was not quite the ticket, intellectualy challenged I suppose, but she lived in the workhouse. It seems that the family would kindly have her home when there was a bit of heavy housework neccessary and then send her back in.
According to great- aunt, she was buried in the ditch of the churchyard. I don't know why but it evidently stuck in ga's mind.
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I was born premature, and not expected to live, so a Catholic nurse took it upon herself to 'baptise' me in the sink. She 'named' me Olivia.
She told mum it was so my sins would be forgiven and I'd be buried in the churchyard.
My mum was furious (and not a Catholic), so sent my dad to register me immediately - as Margaret, after my gran's sister who died aged 4.
There's confidence :-(
My three siblings were christened properly - I never have been.
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Actually Maggie, you have been baptised if the nurse baptised you according to the rites of her church.
I found this advice given to someone else on a Roman Catholic forum :
"Anyone can validly baptize with the intention to do what the Church does...with the right matter (water) and form "I baptize you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit" while pouring the water on the person's head...otherwise it is not valid.
But a lay person is not to do this unless it is an emergency (the child is in danger of death etc)
In this case...she and the Grandmother should go see the Catholic Priest with the Child...he can investigate etc...
it is important that the child be really baptized..but this can not be done more than once...in case of doubt the priest can do a conditional one.
But in any case she needs to contact the Parish Priest.
Baptism IS a Sacrament..the most fundamental one without which no other may be received.....it makes a person a new Creation in Christ etc "
Mind you, I can understand your mother's reaction........
Cx :-)
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No priest was involved, Cynthia, just an over-zealous nurse.
Grandmother wasn't involved, either, neither was I taken to a priest - and we aren't Catholic!!
Also, as I have nothing to prove I was 'baptised', how would it have been proved if I had died? My mum certainly wouldn't have had anything more to do with the nurse!!
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If you had died Maggie, I guess the nurse may have come forward and said something. Thankfully, you are here to tell the tale... :-D
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My sister was a midwife and I know of several babies that she has baptised when it was thought they might not survive.
In a case like yours where you survived your parents could have taken you to church to be "received into the church" and your baptism record would indicate that you were "privately baptised" and "received into the church" with the appropriate dates given.
Kath. x
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My parents weren't church-goers.
My elder siblings were christened, as 'that was what was expected'.
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