The second day, God stood on high, And who the pure glad drops may tell, Faith to revive upon her way, Hope's weary thirst allay? The third day dawn'd:—at His command With herb and flower the green earth smil'd,- So art thou rescued, Christian Child, From tossings of the world's rude sea, In vernal Peace to be. Bright rose the fourth triumphant morn, And the soft moon, whose chaste cold ray Tells tidings of a purer day. Christ in the font became one Noon, The holy Church, one Moon. 'To the fifth dawn and eve belong The sixth dread day, the last in place Thee, awful Image of the All-good, For the whole world-the fontal wave Washing us clean, that we might hide In His love-pierced side. Thus in each day of toil we read What if the day of holy rest The sleep foreshow of infant blest, Borne from the font, the seal new given, Perchance to wake in Heaven? 3. GUARDIAN ANGELS. "TELL me now thy morning dream." Whereby thousand angels glide; In an ever-living well. Far within the unearthly Fount Showed the pure Heaven's steadfast rays, Stars beyond what eye can count Deepening on the unwearied gaze. Whoso of those springs would draw, Wondrous joy and wondrous awe, On his soul together rise, Starlight keen and dark blue skies. Round the margin breath'd and bloom'd Gems from Heaven the sides illum'd: But nor flower nor gem might show Half so fair as your soft charms, Who in you wore seraph's arms Here are wafted, in pure vest, Robed, and wash'd, and seal'd, and bless'd. There one moment lay immers'd Each bright form, and ere it rose, Rose regenerate, Light would burst From where golden morning glows, With a sudden, silent thrill, Over that mysterious rill. Ne'er so bright, so gentle, sweep Lightnings o'er the summer deep. Came but went not every sprite, Through its veil of mortal clay, Now is drench'd in quickening light; |