USA > Pennsylvania > Philadelphia County > Philadelphia > An Historical sketch of the origin and progress of the Society of the Sons of St. George : also the charter, by-laws, and permanent resolutions, together with an alphabetical list of the members and associates, list of officers, etc., for one century, from April 23, 1772 to April 23, 1872, to April 23, 1897 > Part 18
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In the solemn ceremony of the Queen's coronation her answer to the last question was, "All this I have promised to do, the things which I have here before promised to do, I will perform and keep, so help me God."
Let me ask you to look this way for a moment at Sully's
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spirituelle, beautiful picture of the Victoria of sixty years gone by. Has not the artist seemed to catch the true conception of that panoply of glory that rested upon this young life? Think for a moment of these calm sixty years of successful reign; be- sides England's stately diadem, surely God crowned her with the grace of Christian womanhood; surely she remembered that solemn vow, and waited upon God and had her strength re- newed.
The fragile girl evolved into the great Queen, and all the world, including our own America, is the better for this peaceful reign. Notwithstanding that Victoria loves peace and hates war, the flag of England still stands for power and glory, as it has done for a thousand years. We pray that the influence of her reign may prove to be a permanent benediction upon her Empire, and of Old England, shall we not pray that
Long, long in hut and hall May hearts of native Truth be reared To guard each hallowed wall. And green forever be the grove, And bright the flowery sod Where first the child's glad spirit Loved its country and its God.
From the picture to the living Queen, who trusting in God has governed the Empire in righteousness, look at her rev- erently. Paraphrasing the words spoken of Luther, "There she stands, superhuman, calm, concentered, and sublime, crowned with the grace of everlasting truth, a more than mon- arch among Queens she stands."
ADDRESS OF REV. H. RICHARD HARRIS, D.D.
The German poet Heine has said somewhere that he never read Plutarch's " Lives of Great Men " without feeling inspired to take the first mail-coach and go forth into the world to do some great and noble deed. I pity the man who has not something of the same inspiration as his thought runs to-day over the great page of history which bears the record of the sixty years of Vic- toria's reign. He must be singularly insensitive to the finest human things who can note the noble characters, the splendid deeds, and the great achievements of that long period without the swell of pride that he, too, is a man, and the thrill of resolu- tion to prove himself worthy of the name by doing something
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great or good. As Englishmen or descendants of Englishmen, I am sure we are all moved by the splendid spectacle of this long reign, which, whatever its shortcomings, has in the person of the venerable Sovereign preserved throughout an ideal of ele- vated character, and an unshaken faith in the righteousness which exalteth a nation.
Some one has said of the city of Rome that as he looked over it from one of its seven hills, the air became filled with the noise of the footsteps of the illustrious men who made its history, and . its streets became populous with the invisible company of those in whom its true glory was to be found. And so it seems to me it must have appeared to those who looked upon that great procession which wended its way to-day through the streets of London town. It was a splendid procession which lay beneath the eye, a procession in which the flower and splendor of Eng- land's greatest sons had their place. It was a procession which unfolded the solid and substantial power which to-day marks the civilization of the Empire. But side by side with that long line of the great and the brave of the present time there went another procession in honor of the sixty years of Victoria's reign, a pro- ' cession greater and even more splendid than that which eyes could see. The air of London town was filled with the sound of the footsteps of all the illustrious men who for sixty years under the genial light of British honor and genius flourished, and added the lustre of their greatness to the splendor of their coun- try. Wellington and Havelock, and the Lawrences, and Gordon were there to represent the military force and courage which have made the British name respected throughout the Eastern world. Of statesmen, Melbourne and Peel, and Bright and Beaconsfield were there to represent the strong and brilliant statesmanship which has guided so long the policy of the nation. Of prelates, Tait and Wilberforce, and Magee and Thorold; of poets, Tennyson and the Brownings and Arnold; of historians, Macaulay and Freeman and Carlyle; of scientists, Darwin and Huxley and Tyndall; of philosophers, Hamilton and Green and Mansel; of scholars, Jowett and Stanley and Maurice; of preach- ers, Kingsley and Liddon and Newman. All these were in that grand invisible procession, not as being there alone, but as sur- rounded by a great host of others who in greater or lesser degree vie with their splendor, and make this period of sixty years as
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brilliant as the midnight sky when studded with its myriad stars. Yes, that is what the deep-seeing eye beheld to-day in London town. There were marshaled all the forms of those who have made Victoria's reign one of the most illustrious and memor- able in all human history. No triumphal procession in Imperial Rome was ever so splendid and inspiring a spectacle as this.
And thus this day focuses and discloses in one great picture the glory of the past and present of British history. It is not simply the glory of arms, the flash of swords and uniforms, and the splendor of warlike deeds. It is the glory of arms, softened and subdued by the noble glory of arts, of science, of learning, of eloquence, of religion, of genius, of character. Great as her warriors have made England in the past sixty years, she has found her greater and truer glory in the great company of those who with no force but that of mind and heart have enriched her with their wonderful discoveries, their profound reasonings, their beautiful fancies, and their religious teachings. Her real glory is that which has come to her from those to whom she has given liberty to think and act and speak as genius and conscience have moved them.
But while we dwell thus on the splendor of the reign, we have to remember the one figure around which it all centers. Eng- land's glory to-day gathers round the head of the Queen whose influence for these sixty years has been no less potent because she has ruled only as a Constitutional Monarch. Some may say that she is but a figurehead, and that she has no rightful share in what Great Britain has been and done during this long period. But that is a perversion of the facts. Those who know the his- tory of the reign best, know that beneath all the policies of states- men an invisible influence has constantly made itself felt in favor of justice, of peace, and of righteousness. Victoria has shown with what loyalty a sovereign may submit to constitutional limita- tion, and at the same time by force of moral character exert a governing force which moulds and shapes a realm. England would not have grown to be what she is to-day if for sixty years a George IV. or a William IV. had held the throne. She might have grown great in conquest and trade and diplomacy. She could never have reached that moral glory which is to-day her crown among the nations. No, we do not simply celebrate the greatness of the realm. We celebrate the greatness of the Queen
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who reigns. Around her head rightly are gathered the splen- dors of her reign; and as they gather there they do not belittle her. In some cases the splendor of a reign reveals only the pitiable smallness of the sovereign, the meanness of his character. It is not so here. This flood of light which now beats upon her throne shows us in the Queen a character which is equal to the occasion. She has not grown less good as her country has grown more great. She has remained what she was when she ascended the throne, a pure and high-principled woman, a hum- ble and loyal servant of God. Her best power has not made her unmindful of her obligation to use it for her people's good. Her illustrious Empire has not deafened her with the tramp of its onward movement to the voice of her conscience. She has always been true to herself as a woman, and therefore she has been true to her God and her land. This is her greatness, the greatness of a high character upon which no temptations of power have wrought any harm, and which after sixty years of rule shines as chastely and as beautifully as at the first. We hail her to-night as Victoria the Good. She is no longer as she appears to us in this great portrait before us, young, fresh, un- tried, charming in her girlish beauty. She is now venerable and feeble, and worn with sorrow and with care of Empire. But we greet her in her age as more worthy than ever of the name Vic- toria the Good. She has been tried, and she has not been found wanting. At the start she resolved not to be great, but to be good. And she has been true to her resolve. She has tried to be good herself, and to make her kingdom good; and in her goodness to-day lies her real claim to greatness. She is to-day the greatest monarch in modern history, because she is the best in all that makes character purest, sweetest, and holiest.
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ODE.
BY H. HANBY HAY.
Where Britain rules to-day, blow trumpet ! blow ! Dance freedom's banner ! make a gallant show, Till high on every hill the bonfires glow, And night is beaten back by yellow flame. With prayer and praise, with song and bold hurra, The Lion Isle and subject East proclaim, The Queen ! the Queen ! they cry Victoria !
Victoria ! nor is her presence dumb, Where England waves no flag, and beats no drum ; As some Aurora floods the Milky Way, The shout-Victoria ! Victoria ! Resounds in lands where other nations throng ; All earth is busy with one name to-day, And vivas vie with the deep-mouthed hurra.
In worth surpassing great Elizabeth She governs Shakespeare's land, and rules it well ; She sways the men who guard his Oracle, The favored keepers of that Stratford dell, Where once the very self of thought drew breath, And winged his fancies till they swiftly flew Through every land, and nourished every soul. Who loveth Shakespeare must love England too And love that Queen so rich in self-control, So strong in will, so circumspect in speech. Tutored in wisdom from her spotless youth, And by her love of truth, by fearless truth, Swaying more souls than England's arms may reach.
On this her feast let charity abound. Feed ye the poor, let shotless cannon sound. O love, be marshal of this day of days, And twine her chaplet of twin songs of praise ; The song which wells from men of English birth, The chant which world-wide honor gives to worth.
Sing, soul of England ! With a lusty voice I hear thee cry, "O Empire, rejoice !" Let rapture fill the vast domains Victoria controls, Twelve million miles of land and sea, Three hundred million souls.
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Rejoice, Australia ! Rejoice, O island of the sea ! Victoria, Great Britain's Queen, Now keeps her Jubilee. From Canada to far Natal, From ice to fadeless green, Let loyal prayer and praise arise ; God bless the Empress-Queen.
How like a storm-burst swells the British pride ; But far more lasting, constant as the tide, Is that calm reverence which virtue wins From all mankind. For thoughtful praise begins Where native pomp and heated plaudits cease ; We on thy brow invoke the kiss of peace, Thou gracious Queen. What virtues decked thy prime, As round a rich facade rich roses climb. Friendship and gratitude outliving time, Music long cherished followed and obeyed, The homely page of Dickens closely weighed, A gentle tact which like the very air Controlled men's thoughts who knew not they were swayed : The dying peasant woman soothed with prayer ; Nor was the faithful hound denied thy loving care.
To turn from breezy Scott to toils of State, To waive all girlish pleasure, soon to know One simple purpose free from party hate ; To put by careless joys for labored show And ancient pomp. At duty's stern commands, To close the Tempest, and like Prospero To sit in council, and with gentle hands To disentangle war's disheveled, knotted strands. Widows may weep ! A widowed queen must turn From her dear dead, prepared to moderate, Some curt dispatch, some speech whose phrases burn ; Or with fair words to soothe some alien State. .
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Thy womanhood has set thee in the van, High in the galaxy of changeless fame ; Men call this mighty age Victorian, And seas and cities seek to bear thy name Because truth-doing was thy steadfast aim. One name is thine, thou Majesty serene, It is a name which earth and heaven revere, The great Peace-maker of this vexed sphere And God's peace shall be thine. God save the Queen.
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JUNE 03
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