Project Canterbury

Christian Ballads

By A. Cleveland Coxe, D.D.

New York: D. Appleton, 1865.


And the disciples were called CHRISTIANS first in Antioch.--Acts of the Apostles.


OLD Antioch shall answer ye
What title I would claim!
Old Antioch--whence Christian men
Confess their Christian name.
I wear no other name but CHRIST'S,
And His is name enow,
Writ by our mother's spousal hand
On all her children's brow.


Yet something doth that mother give,
A token to her sons,
And Catholic doth she surname
Her Lord's begotten ones:
And such, the children of her love
Are children all of Heaven:
Lo!--she answereth to GOD,
And these that Thou hast given.


I know that many martyrs died
At rack and cruel stake,
And Cranmer laid his prelate hand
On fire, for JESU's sake;
And many a bishop's burning heart,
Like flame was lost in flame:
But CHRIST--none other died for me;
I'll wear no other name.


I wear the name of CHRIST my GOD,
So name me not from man!
And my broad country Catholic,
It hath nor tribe nor clan:
And one and endless is the line
Through all the world that went,
Commissioned from that Holy Hill
Of CHRIST's sublime ascent.


For there, our great Melchizedek
Ordained of GOD that came,
And not Himself did glorify
To wear His priestly name,
His mantle--as He went on high,
To chosen sons bequeathed,
And bade Apostles feed His lambs,
As o'er them all He breathed.


'Twas there, as GOD had sent the Son,
The Son His own did send,
And with them promised to abide
For ever--to the end:
And faithful to His plighted love,
The LORD is with us yet,
Where our apostles bear the keys
He left on Olivet.


Then call me not to other folds;
No greener fields I see;
The shepherds of my LORD alone
Can feed a lamb like me:
I cannot wander, if I will,
For whensoever wooed,
Out-flames a burning chronicle
In Peter and in Jude.


I read how Korah boldly swung
The censer GOD abhorr'd,
And spurned old Aaron's litanies,
Commanded of the LORD.
Those bold Apostles echo it,
And while their voice I hear,
If your strange folds seemed Eden's gate
That waving sword I fear.


I hear my Saviour's earnest prayer,
That one we all may be,
And--oh, how can I go with them
Who tear Him bodily?
I see the heralds of His cross
Whom JESUS sent of yore;
And can I spurn anointed hands?
I love my Saviour more.


Dear Lamb of GOD! I know full well
All power to Thee was given,
And oh there is no other Name,
To name us, under heaven!
I know when Thou didst send a line
Through all the world to run,
No arm of flesh, if that hath failed,
Can weave a surer one!


Thou, Priest and Prophet art for us,
Our great High Priest in heaven;
While to Thy lowly priests on earth,
Thy prophet voice is given:
Thank GOD, it never failed, nor shall!
That long unbroken chain
Begun in Thee--in Thee shall end,
When Thou shalt come again.


So CHRIST forbid that I should boast,
Save in His blood-red cross;
And let me, for the Crucified,
Count other gain but loss;
And ye that scorn His follower,
And deem my glory shame,
Forget not, in upbraiding me,
To name me by His name.

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