Religion: In the Midst of His Sea

Put into port, the Shoals are calling;

Come where the lighthouse gleams.

Come in to rest, and furl your sails,

And lose yourself in dreams. . . .

To a world-weary outsider, these sentimental lines would scarcely seem to fit the barren, rocky acres of Star Island, one of the nine Isles of Shoals off New Hampshire’s brief coast. But to the religiously liberal Unitarian Fellowship, these and the other two stanzas of the song Gosport Harbor, explain the intangible atmosphere of peace that makes Star Island a favorite summer retreat. For half a century Unitarians have gone from some 24 states “to worship God here in the midst of His sea to take counsel together of the deep thing that abide, to share the friendship and the hope of a common faith. . . .”

Last week the Unitarians ended their 50th anniversary summer meeting, turned the Island over to 165 Congregationalists. Like the Unitarians, they poked for gulls’ eggs in the Island’s scarred, flumed granite listened to lectures, held seminars and attended services in the little Gosport Meeting House. But, also like the Unitarians, they spent much of their time sitting in silent meditation.

Isolated Charm. Star Island’s chief attraction to both sects is its remoteness. Nine miles from the mainland, it has only one link with the world: a ferry which makes the trip twice daily. Nowhere is there a radio, a telephone or a newspaper; the Island’s ancient Oceanic Hotel, built in 1873 by mustard tycoon John R. Poor (a Unitarian), has no running water, no baths. Said Congregationalist “Shoaler” Donald A. Adams: “You have nothing else to think about except religion.”

Every night at 10 o’clock, the Shoalers hold a candlelight service in the spirit of their hymn:

We leave our sadness and unrest

Down by the restless tide;

We climb a hill of love to find

Our crosses glorified.

Carrying candles protected by glass chimneys, the worshipers file silently from the hotel along the rocky pathway to the little church, whose bell tolls solemnly above the rumble of the surf. At service’s end the worshipers take up their candles and walk out, the last to leave shutting the door upon the darkened church. Silently all file back to the hotel.