# Pleasant Memories of Pleasant Lands 1842/Divine Service, at the Church for the Blind

DIVINE SERVICE
AT THE CHURCH FOR THE BLIND, IN LIVERPOOL.
One day, the ocean's might to dare,
 While the lone ship with rushing prow
Adventurous cuts her doubtful way,
 With clouds above and waves below,
One day, the booming surge to hear,
 Mid wrecking rocks' impetuous roar,
And press the next with speechless joy
 Our mother Albion's verdant shore,
To list her Sabbath's tuneful chimes,
 And join the throng, whose ceaseless streams
Flow toward the temples of her God,
 Seem like the mockery of dreams.
Yet thus it is. And here we stand
 Within that consecrated dome,
Which blest Benevolence hath reared
 To yield the sightless poor a home.
Yes, thus it is. How passing sweet,
 Ye stricken blind, your chanted lays,
Those breathings of a chastened soul,
 That turns its discipline to praise.
Yet think not, though in heart you mourn
 The shrouded charms of hill and plain,
That all your lot withholds is loss,
 Or all our boasted pleasures, gain.
Ye miss the sight of wan decay,
 The wrinkle on the brow so dear,
The sunny ringlet changed to gray,
 The flush of youth to sorrow's tear.
Ye miss the cold averted eye,
 The scowl of passion's fierce control,
The leer of pride, the frown of hate,
 The glance of scorn that stings the soul.
Ye miss the fading of the rose,
 The lily drooping on its stalk,
The frosty blight, that autumn throws
 O'er vine-wreathed bower and summer walk.
We see indeed the form, the smile,
 The lip, that gives affection's kiss;
Yet thoughtless oft, or thankless grow,
 Even from the fulness of our bliss.
We roam amid creation's wealth,
 Vale, grove, and stream and flower-decked plain,
Yet heedless of their Maker's voice,
 Become desultory and vain.
But musing contemplation seeks
 Well pleased your bosom's inmost cell,
And Memory lauds the thoughtful train,
 Who guard her precious gold so well.
Then be not sad; for Knowledge holds
 High converse with the hermit mind,
And tenderest Sympathy is yours,
 And heaven-born Music loves the blind.
She loves and claims you for her own,
 And strives melodiously to pay,
With rapturous thrill and dulcet tone,
 For what stern Nature takes away.
Say, hath there not been partial praise
 Dealt to that orb, whose skill refined
Collects the tints of earth and sky,
 And paints their picture for the mind?
While the reporter of the soul,
 That patient friend since life was young,
Who links reverberated sound,
 Still toils unhonored and unsung.
The eye, with all its mystic lore,
 Its sparkling glance, its varying die,
From lover's lute and minstrel's strain
 Hath drunk of old high eulogy;
While in its clustering thicket hid,
 The ear unchronicled remained,
Yet ever with the ruling mind
 Close league and covenant maintained.
For what were eloquence, shouldst thou,
 Harp of the soul, thine aid deny?
And how would love's soft errand speed,
 Shouldst thou forget his whispered sigh?
And how must high Devotion droop,
 If all his glorious themes should be
Lost in thy labyrinthine maze,
 Or misinterpreted by thee?
Oh peaceful blind! the wheels of life,
 That with their dust-clouds dim the soul,
Ye see not their revolving strife,
 But catch their music as they roll;
Ye see not how the scythe of time
 Cuts the young blossom ere it springs,
Yet may you trace with skill sublime
 The heavenward movement of his wings.
Chant on! Chant on! ye sightless choir;
 Still bow the heart to music's sway,
And fill the stranger's eye with tears,
 As ye have done for us this day.
Liverpool,
Sunday, August 23, 1840.
It is impossible to listen without emotion to the sacred music of the blind, in their Church at Liverpool. They chant as in the cathedral-service, accompanied by the organ, and sing anthems and other compositions with a soul-thrilling sweetness. Of course, all these performances are acts of memory, which is doubtless rendered more retentive by the concentrativeness of thought, which blindness promotes. The noble Asylum for these sightless worshippers is well patronized. Their Church is adorned with two large paintings, and a transparency; and was filled by a respectable audience. The seats for the objects of the Institution are in the gallery. Sweet and heaven- born is that Charity, which, if she may not like her Master open the blind eye to the works of nature, pours upon the afflicted mind the light of knowledge, and lifts up the soul to the "clear shining of the sun of righteousness."
We were taken by the kindness of a friend to the afternoon worship in the Chapel of the Blue Coat Hospital. Two hundred and fifty boys, and one hundred girls, were assembled there, in the neat uniforms ​of the Institution. To our surprise the whole service was performed by them. A boy of very grave deportment read the Liturgy with a solemn intonation, and the others distinctly responded. Another officiated as organist, and all joined zealously in the singing. Catechisms and portions of Scripture were recited by a selection of the scholars, and the exercises conducted and closed decorously.
The building appropriated to the Institution is spacious, and perfectly neat. In one apartment are portraits of its benefactors, among whom are some, who were once pensioners of its bounty. The advantages for an extended education are not so great here, as in the establishment for the Blue Coat Boys in London, which has produced some literary men of note. The Liverpool beneficiaries are prepared for the practical walks of life, and become apprentices to artisans, or tradesmen. Before leaving, we were invited to see the children taking their Sunday supper. Each had on a wooden plate a huge mass of bread, with a modicum of cheese, and by its side a small cup of ale; all of which elements they were discussing with a visible relish. Their appearance was healthful, and their deportment quiet, and in perfect subordination. How true is that benevolence, which rescues the young from ignorance and poverty, and inspires them with motives to become useful here, and happy hereafter. It is peculiarly honorable in a commercial city, to de​vote time and attention to these departments of philanthropy.
Liverpool possesses objects of interest of a different nature. The magnitude of its Docks astonishes every stranger. Its New Cemetery is beautiful. We visited also its Bazaar, Custom-House, and Town-Hall. The latter has a noble stair-case, and good prospect from the dome, and in some of its apartments are portraits, by Sir Thomas Lawrence, of various members of the royal family. Opposite the Exchange is a bronze statue of Nelson. He is depicted in the death-struggle, Fame and Victory holding over his head several crowns. The pedestal is surrounded by nine colossal figures in chains, representing the various nations, which he had either subjugated, or compelled to acknowledge the supremacy of Great Britain.
We were gratified by seeing some of the descendants of Roscoe, who ennobled the mercantile profession by elegant literature, and his native city by his fame. On the fifth day after our arrival we left Liverpool for the Lakes of Cumberland, well pleased with the kindness and polite attentions, which had met us at the threshold of the Mother-Land.