And if in festive hour, beside

The laughing waves and tuneful tide,
Parental eyes for joy grow dim,

What notes may trace the heart's deep hymn,

In silence mingling with the breath

Of child by prayer recall'd from death,
Or with the pulse's healthier chime
In praise melodious keeping time?
O, when its flower seems fain to die,
The full heart grudges smile or sigh
To aught beside, though fair and dear.
Like a bruis'd leaf, at touch of Fear
Its hidden fragrance Love gives out.
Therefore, this one dear couch about

We linger hour by hour.

The love that each to each we bear,
All treasures of endearing care,

Into her lap we pour.

Type of that holiest Family,
When smitten souls, at point to die,
Come darkling home, prepar'd to wait
In doubt and dimness by the gate.

Then far along the mournful way
Paternal Love speeds out, to say
The words of welcome; Angels bear

The robe, sweet pledge of pardoning care;
And as he daily seeks aright

His lowly station in their sight,

They watch th' all-ruling Eye, for leave

Some flower of Paradise to give,

Bid amaranth odours round him float,
Or breathe into his ear one note

Of that high loving strain,

Which rings from all the harps of Heaven,
When from the Shrine the word is given,
"The dead soul lives again.”

O, if the Powers and Thrones above
Hover with crowns of joy and love,
Ungrudg'd, unsparing, over brows
That mourn in dust their broken vows,
Rather than where the Saints are seen
Each reigning in his place serene :—
If in Love's earthly home and bower
The mournful or the dangerous hour

Unbalm'd each prayer and longing guides
To the one couch where Pain abides :-

He who is Love, and owns Love's Name,
Is in His ocean springs the same

As in each little murmuring rill

That cheers soft mead or pastoral hill:
Brighter the joy, be sure,

Before Him, where one sinner weeps,
Than where, in Heaven's unchanging deeps,

A thousand orbs endure.

All gorgeous hues are in the pure white beam
Alone, apart from Mother dear

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136

Behold me, Lord, a worthless Gibeonite
Behold the treasure of the nest

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But what if chrisom robes be sin-defiled

Christ before thy door is waiting
Christian Child, whoe'er thou be
Come and with us by summer seas
Come hear with duteous mind.
Come take a woodland walk with me
Come, ye little revellers gay

Comrades, haste; the tents' tall shading