THE PREACHER'S THEME
sacrifice of praise would rise to God, if all worshippers knew themselves in very truth to be sons and daughters of the Resurrection!
Alfred Noyes has a striking poem. The Lord of Misrule which confronts us with the challenging thought that if the facts of our holy religion and our supernatural faith no longer move us to exultation, then the pagan world itself will rise up and condemn us—that pagan world which revels in the lesser gifts of nature. The poem is based on the tradition reported by an old Puritan writer that "on May-days the wild heads of the parish would choose a Lord of Misrule, whom they would follow even into the Church, though the minister were at prayer or preaching, dancing and swinging their may-boughs about."
Come up, come in with streamers!
Come in, with boughs of may!
Now by the gold upon your toe
You walked the primrose way.
Come up, with white and crimson!
O, shake your bells and sing;
Let the porch bend, the pillars bow,
Before our Lord, the Spring!
Then into the pulpit itself, where a few moments before the preacher had been droning his drowsy flock to sleep, the Lord of Misrule pushes his way, and faces the congregation:
"You chatter in Church like jackdaws,
Words that would wake the dead,
Were there one breath of life in you,
One drop of blood," he said.
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