Quickly are crumbling the old gray walls,
Soon the last stone will be gone,
The olden church of the Recollects,
We shall look no more upon;
And though, perchance, some stately pile
May rise its place to fill,
With carven piers and lofty towers,
Old Church, we shall miss thee still!
Though not like Europes ancient fanes,
Moss-grown and ivied oer
Bearing long centuries darkened stains
On belfry and turrets hoar
A hundred years and more hast thou
Thy shadow oer us cast;
And we claim thee in our countrys youth
As a land-mark of the past.
Thoust seen the glittering Fleur-de-lys
Fling out its folds on high
From old Dalhousies fortress hill,
Against the morning sky;
And, later, the gleam of an English flag
From its cannon-crowned brow,
That flag which, despite the changing years,
Floateth proudly oer us now.
Thoust seen the dark-browed Indians, too,
Thronging each narrow street,
In their garb so strangely picturesque,
Their gaily moccassined feet;
And beside them gentle helpmates stood,
Dark-hued, with soft black eyes,
In blanket robes, with necklets bright
Large beads of brilliant dyes.
Thoust seen our city far outgrow
The bounds of its ancient walls,
In beauty growing and in wealth,
And free from early thralls,
Till round Mount Royals queenly heights,
That stretch toward the sky,
In pomp and splendor, beauteous homes
Of luxury closely lie.
Within this time-worn portal prayed
The sons of differing creeds,
And unto God, in various ways,
Made known their various needs.
Better dwell thus in brotherly love,
All seeking one common weal,
Than stir the stormy waters of strife
Through hasty and misjudged zeal.
And for many years the exiles lone,
Who landed upon our shore
From Erins green and sunny isle,
Did here their God adore;
And laid their aching sad hearts bare
To His kind, pitying gaze,
And prayed to Him in this new strange land
For better and brighter days.
And humble Recollect Friars here
Their matins recited oer,
And glided with noiseless, sandalled feet
Oer the chapels sacred floor;
Again, at the close of day they met,
Amid clouds of incense dim
And the softened, rays of tapers blaze,
To sing their evening hymn.
They and their order have passed away
From among their fellow-men.
Little recked they for earths joys or gains,
On heaven bent their ken.
The lowly church that has borne their name
So faithfully to the last,
Linked with our citys young days, like them,
Will henceforth be of the past.
