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Why hearts, that true love-tokens need

For brother or for friend,

Count not the cost with careful heed,
But haste their all to spend.

Ask why of old the favoured king
Enquired the Temple's price,
Not bearing to his Lord to bring
An unbought sacrifice.

Yea, lowly fall, and of thy Lord

In silence ask and dread,

Why praised He Mary's ointment, poured Upon His Sacred Head.

Holy Places and Things.

271

'7.

CHURCH WINDOWS.

"The Lord my God shall come, and all the Saints with Thee: and it shall come to pass in that day, that the light shall not be clear, nor dark."

OFT have I heard our elders say,

How sad the autumnal hour,
How rude the touch of stern decay,
How fast the bright hues melt away
In mountain, sky, and bower!

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To heap and toss them wild and free,

Their fragrance breathe, and o'er them see

Soft evening lustre shed.

And some will say, 'tis drear and cold

In holy Church to kneel

With one or two, Christ's little fold,

With blind and lame, with poor and old,

There met for Him to heal.

Nay, look again: the Saints are there :
Christ's ever-glowing Light
Through heavenly features grave and fair
Is gleaming; all the lonely air

Is thronged with shadows bright.

The Saints are there :-the Living Dead, The Mourners glad and strong;

The sacred floor their quiet bed,

Their beams from every window shed,

Their voice in every song.

And haply where I kneel, some day,
From yonder gorgeous pane
The glory of some Saint will play :-
Not lightly may it pass away,

But in my heart remain !

Holy Places and Things.

273

8.

RELICS AND MEMORIALS.

"As the shadow of a great Rock in a weary land."

THE Twelve holy men are gathered in prayer,
The Psalm mounts on high, the Spirit descends :

A keen silent thrilling is round them in air,

A Power from the Highest with thought and word blends.

They pass by the way, to sight poor and mean.

How glorious the train that streams to and fro !

The blind, dumb, halt, withered, by hundreds are

seen,

The prisoners of Satan lie chained where they go.

O lay them but where the shadow may fall
Of Christ's awful Saint, to prayer as he speeds:
The mighty love-token all fiends shall appal,
A gale breathe from Eden, assuaging all needs.

T

Nay, look again: the Saints are there :
Christ's ever-glowing Light
Through heavenly features grave and fair
Is gleaming; all the lonely air

Is thronged with shadows bright.

The Saints are there :—the Living Dead, The Mourners glad and strong;

The sacred floor their quiet bed,

Their beams from every window shed,

Their voice in every song.

And haply where I kneel, some day,
From yonder gorgeous pane

The glory of some Saint will play :-
Not lightly may it pass away,

But in my heart remain !

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