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Soon will a thousand bells ring out,
may not those glad anthems hear ?
Thou smil'st in sleep :
Who knows how deep
The dream of joy that smile denotes ? Mild as the summer lightning, see, it floats,
As if, the new-born Spirit o'er, Came voices low from where departed babes adore.
Such is thy silent Liturgy,
Howe'er thy mother's dreaming heart
Shapes thy bright doom
In years to come ;
All with that offering would we blend, Which Saints on earth to Angel hands commend
To bear on high, this favoured day, And on the sovereign Babe's unquenched altar lay.
Mysterious are these smiles of thine ;
But, Infant dear,
Unveiled and clear,
Thou shalt behold Him as He died, Thine
the Crucified : In mercy may He meet thy gaze, And all the joy fulfil of all His bright glad days !
eye shall gaze upon
“ They saw the young child with Mary His Mother, and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto Him gifts."
How gaily seems the sun to rise
On christening days and days of birth,
Or faintly warm the wintry earth !
Oh haste we then to-day to greet
Him who is born our glorious King : Of gold and myrrh and incense sweet
Your treasures to His cradle bring.