Presumption.

With motion free as mountain cloud

He trode where mists the moorland shroud,
From bear and lion tore the prey,

Nor deem'd he e'er should rend as they.

Such was his dawn: but O! how grieve
Good Angels o'er his noon and eve!
He that with oil of joy began

In sackcloth ends, a fallen man.

Then wherefore trust youth's eager thought?
Wait till thine arm all day hath wrought:
Wait humbly till thy matin psalm

Due cadence find in evening calm.

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3.

DANGER OF PRAISE.

"And he confessed, and denied not; but confessed, I am not the Christ."

WHEN mortals praise thee, hide thine eyes,

Nor in thy Master's wrong

Take to thyself His crown and prize;
Yet more in heart than tongue.

None holier than the Desert Priest
Beneath the Law's dim sky,

Yet in Heaven's kingdom with the least,
We read, he might not vie.

No member, yet, of Christ the Son,

No gospel Prophet he;

Only a voice from out the Throne

Of dread yet blest decree.

Danger of Praise.

If he confessed, nor dared deny,
Woe to that Christian's heart,

Who in man's praise would walk on high,
And steal his Saviour's part!

And ah! to him what tenfold woe,
Who hides so well his sin,
Through earth he seems a saint to go,
Yet dies impure within!

Pray we our Lord, one pang to send
Of deep remorseful fear

For

every smile of partial friend.—

Praise be our Penance here!

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4.

ENVY.

"If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him."

WHAT is this cloud upon thy brow?
"The Lord accepts my brother's vow,
But turns no ear to mine.

High in the liquid heaven behold

His altar-flames in many an airy fold,

But where I kneel, the Almighty makes no sign."

Yes welcome to the pure bright air,

And dear to Angels, is his prayer,

For the sweet fragrance' sake

Of loving deeds: bring thou the same, Thine altar too shall feel the gracious flame :

Haste, ere the monster at thy door awake.

Envy.

Beside thine hearth, thine home within,
Lies couched and still a deadly sin,

O chain it while 'tis time.

Learn on thy brother's joy to gaze

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With thankful eye; and heaven's high counsel praise, That crowned him with the forfeit of thy crime.

Thy forehead yet awhile must bear

His wrathful mark; but alms and prayer,

And penance true and stern,

May wear it out: thine evil eye

May melt in dews of holy charity,

Thy sullen tones to meek confessions turn.