Page:The Christian Year 1887.djvu/185



That, dearest of Thy bosom Friends, Into the wavering heart descends:- "What? fallen again? yet cheerful rise. Thine Intercessor never dies."

The eye of Faith, that waxes bright Each moment by thine altar's light, Sees them e'en now: they still abide In mystery kneeling at our side:

And with them every spirit blest, From realms of triumph or of rest, From Him who saw creation's morn, Of all Thine angels eldest born,

To the poor babe, who died to-day, Take part in our thanksgiving lay, Watching the tearful joy and calm, While sinners taste Thine heavenly balm.

Sweet awful hour! the only sound One gentle footstep gliding round, Offering by turns on Jesus' part The Cross to every hand and heart.

Refresh us, Lord, to hold it fast; And when Thy veil is drawn at last, Let us depart where shadows cease, With words of blessing and of peace.

Where is it mothers learn their love? -  In every Church a fountain springs O'er which th' Eternal Dove Hovers out softest wings.

What sparkles in that lucid flood Is water, by gross mortals eyed: But seen by Faith, 'tis blood Out of a dear Friend's side.

A few calm words of faith and prayer, A few bright drops of holy dew, Shall work a wonder there Earth's charmers never knew.