Behold, the Virgin blest

Calls on her Babe to wake

From His sweet slumber on her breast;
How should her heart not ache?

From her pure bosom, where all night
He softly slept, that Maiden bright
Resigns her Well-beloved at morn

To shed His blood; for therefore was He born.

Pierc'd is her heart, yet still

For why? that Mother's love Is one with His Almighty will,

Chang'd by the o'ershadowing Dove.

O freely then your treasures yield,
With the dread Cross so lately seal'd,
Yield to the chastenings of th' Unseen,

The Saviour's Presence-tokens, sweet as keen.

12.

ANTICIPATION AND RETROSPECTION.

"And ye now therefore have sorrow; but I will see you again, and your

heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you."

A FRAGMENT of a rainbow bright

Through the moist air I see,

All dark and damp on yonder height,
All clear and gay to me.

An hour ago the storm was here,
The gleam was far behind.
So will our joys and griefs appear
When earth has ceased to blind.

Grief will be joy, if on its edge
Fall soft that holiest ray;
Joy will be grief, if no faint pledge
Be there of heavenly day.

Christ's Passion eve fell dark and drear

Upon His faithful few,

But brighter, each returning year,

In memory gleam'd anew.

And loud the chant of hope and glee
O'er Adam's eldest born,

But, hapless mother, who like thee
Her travail pangs might mourn?

F

13.

JUDAS'S INFANCY.

"The Son of man goeth as it is written of him: but woe unto that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed! it had been good for that man if he had not been born."

ALAS! that e'er the pangs of birth,
The consecrated throes, whereby
Eden revives, should breed on earth
Untemper'd agony !

Yet sure as frail repenting Eve
For pardon knelt of yore, and now
Adoring kneels, there to receive,

Where all the world shall bow,

From fruit of her own favour'd womb,

The peace, the home, her wandering lost :—

Sure as to blessed Mary come

The Saints' and Martyrs' host,

Το

own,

with

many a

thankful strain,

The channel of undying bliss,

The bosom where the Lord hath laid,
The hand that held by His ;-

Sure as her form for evermore

The glory and the joy shall wear, That rob'd her, bending to adore

The Babe her chaste womb bare ;-

So surely throes unblest have been,
And cradles where no kindly star
Look'd down-no Angel's eye serene,
To gleam through years afar.

Did not our Lord speak out His ban,
The Christ for His betrayer mourn?
"Alas! good were it for that man
If he had ne'er been born."

Nor may we doubt, His Mother mild
Upon that bosom pitying thought,
Where Judas lay, a harmless Child,

By gold as yet unbought.