Thou prayest without the veil as yet;
But kneel in faith: an arm benign

Such prayer will duly set

Within the holiest shrine.

And Prayer has might to spread and grow. Thy childish darts, right-aim'd on high, May catch Heaven's fire, and glow Far in the eternal sky:

Even as He made that stripling's store
Type of the Feast by Him decreed,

Where Angels might adore,

And souls for ever feed.

10.

THE MOURNERS FOLLOWING THE CROSS.

"Weep not for me, but for yourselves and for

your children."

THERE is no grief that ever wasted man,
But finds its hour here in Thine awful week,
And since all Mother's love from Thee began,
Sure none, like Thee, of Mother's woe can speak.
Thine ear prophetic, Lord, while angels wreak
The vengeance on Thine heritage defil'd,
While temples crash, and towers in ashes reek,
And with each gust some kingdom strews the wild,
Loses no lowly moan, no sigh of sobbing child.

Even so might seamen's wives at midnight drear
Lie listening to the blast, and tell aright
The tale of all the waves, that far and near
Break on the reef, yet miss no wailing slight
Of nestling babe, for wonder or delight
Uttering faint cries in sleep.-O restless care!
Oh all foreseeing pity!—be our flight

In winter, soothing spells will He prepare,

And for His lambs allay the bleak heart-killing air.

The Mourners following the Cross.

247

Or if the holy Day the few brief hours

Of flight abridge, for nursing-mother frail,

For tender babe, Thou send'st Thine unseen powers To help or hide :-hide in the lowly vale,

Help o'er the

weary mountain.-Ne'er may fail
The prayer of helpless Faith ;-but she must pray,
Her forceful knocking must Heaven's door assail :
For so of old He taught: "Pray that your way
Be not in winter wild, nor on the Sabbath Day."

The season He bids choose, who in strong hand
Winter and summer holds, and day and night,
Binding His sovereign will in Love's soft band;-
As parents teach their little ones to write
With gently-guiding finger, and delight

The wish and prayer to mould, then grant the boon :Such is Thy silent grace, framing aright

Our lowly orisons in time and tune

To Litanies on high, controlling sun and moon.

And as the heart maternal evermore

Must rise in prayer, so the maternal feet
Must feel their dim way on the lonely shore,
Ere o'er the path the unpitying surges beat.

At early dawn, the fresh spring dews to greet, I bid thee haste, else vainly wilt thou crave An hour in winter. Fast the week-days fleet, Slow speeds the work: the lingerers who shall save? Thy task ere Sunday end, thy life before the grave.

Who may the horror but in dream abide,
Breathless to knock, and by the portal wait
Where Saints have past behind their glorious Guide,
Then feel, not hear, the sad drear word, "Too late?"
Woe, in that hour, to souls that seek the gate
Alone! but deeper anguish, direr gloom,

If to thy bosom clinging, child or mate,

Pupil or friend, the heaven-prepared room,

Tardy through thee, should miss, and share the hopeless doom!

11.

ST. ANDREW AND HIS CROSS.

"Where I am, there shall also my servant be."

O Holy Cross, on thee to hang

At JESUS' side, and feel the sweet,

And taste aright each healing pang,
What Saint, what Virgin Martyr e'er was meet?

Two only of His own found grace

The very death He died to die.

Joyful they rush'd to thine embrace,

While Angel choirs, half envying, waited by.

Joyful they speed;-but how is this?

Why doubt they yet, in JESUS' power

To grasp their crown of hard won bliss ?

Well have ye fought; why faint in Victory's hour?