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The holy sabbath rites are o'er,
And through the consecrated door,
With voices hushed, the shepherds pour.
The weary pastor, only, turns
Not homeward yet ; his spirit yearns
To soothe the wretched father reft
Of the last hope that time had left.
Still in the narrow porch he stands,
His eye o'ersweeps the ebb-land wide,
Then of the westering sun demands
How soon returns the treacherous tide.
Another hour — his wary foot
their hay-crop, and they then rush to the fields in their Sunday garments.
A Hallig preacher told me he had once just began his sermon, when he
observed a movement in the congregation. One of the people soon came
up the pulpit steps, and, pulling him by the cassock, whispered, " Pastor,
the water is coming ! " He therefore dismissed the congregation, requesting
them to return to the church after the work was ended, and went with
them to the meadows. In about three hours they secured their hay, and
met again at the church, to thank God for the saving of their only source
of income.
In the island of Helgoland, the arrival of the snipes authorizes the interruption
of worship. When the flocks alight, no time must be lost ; and
if the watchman calls at the church door, " Herr, pastor, do snipp is do ! "
" Pastor, the snipes are here ! " the clergyman breaks off the service. —
Kohl Ins. u. Marsch. I. 325.
