But now to the revolving sphere We point, and say, No desert here, No waste so dark and lone, Comes daily in its turn, and lies The shrine doth from the Spouse receive While on our couch we listless dream, The holy words are uttered, Earth Its awful way, The Infinite To meek hearts bringing. 'Tis said, of yore some child of pride Would vaunt him how his empire wide The bright sun never left. So in the Name of our dread King We never are bereft. "Tis morning here, 'tis evening there, But evermore through silent air, From earth, the footstool of His feet, Give daily, earth's release to be From daily woe and thrall. Thus to Heaven's Bride, so chaste and sweet, A voice is granted, The notes untiring to repeat In high Heaven chanted." Then mourn we not with drooping heart Our prayers from home and friends. The Eucharist of God's dear Son, Is mighty, worlds and hearts in one Wherefore in solemn cheer we pass (Now that the Church hath turned her glass) From year to dawning year. All years to Him are one: and thou, In virtue of thy first dread vow Signing thyself in fear, Make haste, dear child, and onward press To high Communion :— Thy fragments He will glean, and bless X. Holy Seasons and Days. 1. CHRISTMAS EVE: VESPERS. "If it bear fruit, well: if not, then after that Thou shalt cut it down." THE duteous sun hath ceased to keep The vigil of his wondrous birth, Who in few hours, while sinners sleep, Shall dawn on thankless earth. The sun is set, the stars begin Their stations in His watch on high, As once around that Bethlehem inn; The vesper hour is nigh. A little maid with eager gaze Comes hurrying to the House of Prayer, Shaping in heart a wild green maze Of woodland branches there. One look, a cloud comes o'er her dream : No burnished leaves, so fresh and clear, No berries with their ripe red gleam :— "There is no Christmas here." What if that little maiden's Lord, "Where are the fruits I yearly seek, Eyes turned from ill, lips pure and meek, "Where are the glad and artless smiles, |