_Hark! for the Master calls, Child, I have need of thee; Man in thy pride of strength, Youth in thy beauteous glee, Aged and young, and rich and poor, Trifles and toys no more pursue; The world is wide, and time is short; There"s work for all to do._
These thoughts have revived in my memory Scott"s poem in which he records an ancient custom found amongst the traditions of Scottish history. A chieftain desired to summon his clansmen to war in great urgency. The shrill blast of the bugle called together his immediate followers, but those at a distance must be summoned by other means.
Before sending out a swift and trusty messenger, the priest was called and certain rites which had been observed from time immemorial performed.
A cross was constructed from the branches of the yew tree, and then held aloft by the priest, whilst he p.r.o.nounced awful curses on the men who, at the sight of the signal, failed to obey the summons of their chief. The cross was then held in the fire until it blazed, was again uplifted and fresh curses added; then it was plunged in the blood of a newly-slain sacrifice, and, smoking and reeking with gore, the charred and b.l.o.o.d.y cross was given into the hands of a swift messenger, who leaping away as an arrow sped from a bow, flies along the mountain-path, and, holding the crimson sign before the eyes of the clansmen, names the place of a.s.sembly, and pa.s.ses the signal on throughout the borders.
I have no yew-tree cross, no bleeding sacrifice visible to outward eyes, but before the eyes of your souls, I lift up the cross of Calvary, charred by the fires of sin, and reeking with the Blood of the Divine Victim, and in G.o.d"s name I charge you to go forth to rescue the needy souls of men.
_See the brazen hosts of h.e.l.l Art and power employing, More than human tongue can tell Blood-bought souls destroying; Hark! from ruin"s ghastly road Victims groan beneath their load, Forward, O ye sons of G.o.d, And dare or die for Jesus._