“Out of the mouth of very babes and sucklings hast Thou ordained strength."

With joy the guardian Angel sees
A duteous child upon his knees,
And writes in his approving book
Each upward, earnest, holy look.

Light from his pure aërial dream
He springs to meet morn's orient beam,
And pours towards the kindling skies
His clear adoring melodies.

Some glorious Seraph, waiting by,
Receives the prayer to waft on high,
And w

nders, as he soars, to read
More than we know, and all we need.

More than we know, and all we need,
Is in

and creed.
They, for their Home, before Him fall,
He, for His Church, receives their call.


They cry with simple voice and clear,
“Bless Father, Mother, Brethren dear :"
He for the Priests of His dread Son
Accounts the blessing ask'd and won.

For holy Priests and Matrons mild,
For penitents and undefiled,
For dying Saints, for babes new-born,
He takes their offering, eve and morn.

He gives the frail and feeble tongue
A doom to speak on sin and wrong ;
Unconscious they stern lightnings aim,
When His ten Precepts they proclaim.

Thus in the Tabernacle shade
At morn and eve young Samuel pray'd,
Nor knew his prayer God's ark would win,
Forfeit by priest's and people's sin.

To Eli thus dread words he spake :-
Ye hearts profane, with penance ache ;-
A wondrous peal o'er Israel rung,
Heaven's thunder from a child's meek tongue.




“ These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication, with the women, and Mary the Mother of Jesus, and with his brethren.”

WHERE are the homes of Paschal Mirth, The bowers where heavenly Joy may rest her wings

on earth, And at her leisure gaze adoring Where out of sight the golden clouds are soaring

Beneath the ascending Saviour's Feet ?

Where may rejoicing Love retreat
To frame a melody for His returning meet

Two homes we know of Love's resort,
One in the upper room, one in the Temple court ;

In glorious Sion both, possessing
Alike her presence, whom the awful blessing

Lifted above all Adam's race :

The royal Twelve are there in place ; Women and duteous friends, awaiting His high


Two homes for us His Love hath found,
One by our quiet couch and one on holy ground.

There in due season meekly kneeling
Learn we our lesson ere His last revealing.

The Mother of our Lord is there,

And Saints are breathing hallow'd air, Living and dead, to waft on high our feeble prayer.

And with His Mother and His Saints

He watches by, who loves the prayer that never faints.

Avaunt, ill thoughts and thoughts of folly ! Where christen’d infants sport, that floor is holy :

Holier the station where they bow,

Adoring Him with daily vow, Till He with ampler grace their youthful hearts




“ And he, trembling and astonished, said, Lord, what wilt thou have me to do? And the Lord said unto him, Arise, and go into the city, and it shall be told thee what thou must do."

“WHAT wouldst thou have me do, O Lord ?”

Darkling he spoke and lowly laid,
With all his heart he spake the word,

The awful Voice mild answer made :
Go, seek one out who thee

may bring
Where healing, holy waters spring,
Then will I show thee speedily
What burthen thou must bear for Me."

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“ What wouldst thou have me do, O Lord ?”

Each morn and eve we seem to say,
And He gives back no doubtful word :

“Remember, little child, all day,
Thine early vows, the hallow'd wave
Where Jesus first His blessing gave :
There stoop, there cleanse thee every hour :
Christ's Laver hath refreshing power."

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