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38 Strange to his ways and his commands,

Seek at his unforgiving hands?"

"Drink but this cup," said the Padre, straight,

"And thou shalt know whose mercy bore

These aching limbs to your heathen door,

And purged my soul of its gross estate.

Drink in His name, and thou shalt see

The hidden depths of this mystery.

Drink!" and he held the cup. One blow

From the heathen dashed to the ground below

The sacred cup that the Padre bore;

And the thirsty soil drank the precious store

Of sacramental and holy wine,

That emblem and consecrated sign

And blessed symbol of blood divine.

Then, says the legend—(and they who doubt

The same as heretics be accurst)—

From the dry and feverish soil leaped out

A living fountain; a well-spring burst

Over the dusty and broad champaign,

Over the sandy and sterile plain,