What if the world our two or three despise?

They in His name are here,

To Whom in suppliant guise

Of old the blind and lame drew near.

Beside His royal courts they wait

And ask His healing Hand: we dare not close the

gate.

6.

CHURCH DECORATIONS.

"I will not offer burnt-offerings without cost."

"WHY deck the high cathedral roof
With foliage rich and rare,

With crowns and flowerets far aloof,
To none but Angels fair?

"Why for the lofty Altar hide
Thy gems and gold in store?
Why spread the burnished pall so wide
Upon the chancel floor?"

Nay, rather ask, why duteous boy

And mother-loving maid

Scarce in their filial gifts find joy,

If nought of theirs be paid:

Why hearts, that true love-tokens need

For brother or for friend,

Count not the cost with careful heed,

But haste their all to spend:

Ask why of old the favoured king

Enquired the Temple's price, Not bearing to his Lord to bring An unbought sacrifice.

Yea, lowly fall, and of thy Lord

In silence ask and dread,

Why praised He Mary's ointment, poured Upon His Sacred Head.

7.

CHURCH WINDOWS.

"The Lord my God shall come, and all the Saints with Thee and it shall come to pass in that day, that the light shall not be clear, nor dark."

OFT have I heard our elders say,
How sad the autumnal hour,
How rude the touch of stern decay,
How fast the bright hues melt away
In mountain, sky, and bower!

Yet is it dear delight to me

The rustling leaves to tread,

To heap and toss them wild and free,
Their fragrance breathe, and o'er them see

Soft evening lustre shed.

And some will say, 'tis drear and cold

In holy Church to kneel

With one or two, Christ's little fold,

With blind and lame, with poor and old,

There met for Him to heal.

Nay, look again: the Saints are there;
Christ's ever-glowing Light

Through heavenly features grave and fair
Is gleaming; all the lonely air

Is thronged with shadows bright.

The Saints are there the Living Dead,
The Mourners glad and strong ;
The sacred floor their quiet bed,

Their beams from every window shed,
Their voice in every song.

And haply where I kneel, some day,
From yonder gorgeous pane

The glory of some Saint will play :--
Not lightly may it pass away,

But in my heart remain.

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