6.

LENT.

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Sanctify a fast..gather the children, and those that suck the breasts."

'Tis said, the immortal Powers on high Might envy Saints on earth, for they can die; They for their Lord may suffer loss;

Those but adore, these taste, the healing Cross.
So while in all beside, dear babe, we pine

For hope as pure as thine,

One gift we have, one token more than thou,

With choice of heart beneath the Saviour's yoke to bow.

No deep of joy to thee is lost.

From Christmas, Easter, or bright Pentecost:

No memory-cloud in air, to dim

The unfolding heavens, or mar the Seraphs' hymn.

The gladsome days are thine: to us are sent
The wan soft gleams of Lent,

The kindly waters from the heavens above,
From earth to be exhal'd in dews of tearful love.

Our portion in Christ's awful year,
Not thine, is Lent: and yet He calls thee near.
Come, spotless one, He seems to say,
Come with thy pure white robe, and kneel to-day
Beside the fallen and defil'd, and learn

How keen the fires must burn

Of the dread Spirit, purging contrite hearts
With penitential pains, Truth in the inward parts.

Oft have we mark'd thy wistful eye

Fix'd upon ours when evil news came nigh,

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As who should say, "My dreams are bright, 'Why should the cloud of woe on thee alight?" Then sweeter grew thy smile, thy soft caress

Would closer seem to press,

And for the woe, to thee yet unreveal'd,

Pure balm of kindly hope thou didst unknowing yield.

So be it now: the secret dark

Of wasting sin here in God's awful ark

In mercy may He keep from thee,
Yet be thou near, our penance-hour to see,
Our penance-hour to see, and deeply thrill
At sense of unknown ill.

Thou look'st an Angel: be thy presence found
Like a bright Angel's here, guarding the holy ground.

Oh much we need a loving spell,
To scare away the Powers unclean and fell,
Whom we too oft have tempted nigh,

To bind our burden, dim our upward eye.
Thou from the Font art fresh and undefiled.
O surely, happy child,

More than angelic power is where thou art,

More than angelic love, to melt the cold dry heart.

7.

EASTER EVE.

"It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord."

THE Primroses with kindly gleam

Are looking out from bower and brake :

As bright and quiet all things seem

As if no heart on earth could ache,

Yet He, the Sun who yester even

Set in that wild tempestuous gloom,
When graves flew wide, and rocks were riven,
Still lingers in the dreary tomb.

Nor blame our peace: for He will rise,

His veil for evermore withdrawn.

O never yet shone vernal skies

So pure, as shall to-morrow dawn.

"Tis in that faith the flowers of Earth

Their very best make speed to wear, And e'en the funeral mound gives birth To wild thyme fresh and violets fair.

Stoop, little child, nor fear to kiss

The green buds on this bed of death. Thou hast thy first baptismal bliss,

Like new-born babe's, thy fragrant breath.

Thy fragrant breath with this sweet air
From briar and turf may duly blend :
But keep it pure with Fast and Prayer,
Come early near, and lowly bend.