My Queen is dead. Long live my King.
It is somehow typical of the only earthly Sovereign I have hitherto known that death should visit her so swiftly, and without fuss. How frail she looked on Tuesday of this week, leaning heavily on her stick yet beaming her trademark smile, as she appointed the fifteenth Prime Minister of her reign over the United Kingdom. Light still streamed from that tiny candle even as its wick was almost consumed and its wax was fragile in the extreme. According to a senior minister of the Church of Scotland who stayed at Balmoral this past weekend to preach at Crathie Church to local parishioners and members of the Royal Household, Her beloved Majesty was the life and soul of the party, her mental powers undiminished, her humour intact. Reaction to Her Majesty’s passing in the UK, the Commonwealth Realms, and around the world attests her happy knack of bringing out the best in people. Pope Francis felicitously gave thanks for ‘her steadfast witness of faith in Jesus Christ and her firm hope in his promises.’ I make my own the prayer issued by the Most Revd Foley Beach, Archbishop of ACNA and Primate of the GAFCON Anglicans:
Into Your hands, O merciful Saviour, we commend Your servant Elizabeth. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech You, a sheep of Your own fold, a lamb of Your own flock, a sinner of Your own redeeming. Receive her into the arms of Your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen.
And how smoothly the transition has gone from one monarch to the next, not a minute going by without a Sovereign in place. It may take some time automatically to sing God Save The King, but the former Prince of Wales has stepped without fanfare and with full consent into the office for which he was born, and I gladly render in my heart the homage he rightfully claims. Bless my soul, I am such a dyed-in-the wool monarchist that I should undoubtedly send a deferential bow in the direction of Camilla his Queen in the unlikely event of ever meeting her. As he tours the four nations of the United Kingdom in the period of official mourning for his late mother prior to her funeral, His Majesty must move at a pace that would tax the strength of many a man decades his junior. He begins the most demanding work of his life at a time when most men his age have been enjoying retirement for some years. Given St Paul’s command that we pray ‘for kings and those in authority,’ the loyal Canadian subjects of King Charles III may fitly and fervently pray, beginning this coming Sunday:
Almighty God, whose kingdom is everlasting and power infinite; Have mercy upon the whole Church; and so rule the heart of Your chosen Servant Charles, our King and Governor, that he (knowing whose minister he is) may above all things seek Your honour and glory: and that we, and all his subjects (duly considering whose authority he has) may faithfully serve, honour, and humbly obey him, in You, and for You, according to Your blessed Word and ordinance; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with You and the Holy Spirit live and reign, ever one God, world without end. Amen.
Vivat Rex!