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Borne as on eagle-wings away

Through ether far, Thy soul outstrips the utmost star, Nor Heaven's own lightning's fiery ray Thy spirit from its God can stay.

Lo! there 'tis thine still on to move
Thy nearer ken,

and eye, and soul of men Turn in mute awe, and shrink to prove The mysteries of redeeming love.

Where ear,

For of that love how vast the sum !

That Deity
Forgetful of itself should be,
And down to earth an exile come,
To lead these wandering exiles home.

'Tis thine Heaven's deepest rites to tell

To seers divining; Thou op'st the light in darkness shining: Thou searchest life's o'erflowing well, And heaven-born light's primæval cell,

All praise to God on high we sing,

To Father, Son,
And Holy Spirit, Three in One.
Lo! this the stedfast creed we bring
Drawn from high Heaven's eternal spring.


Jesus answered and said, Are ye able to drink of the cup that I shall drink of? They say unto him, We are able. And He saith unto them, Ye shall indeed drink of my cup.--ST. MATT. XX.

Oh, for a saint like thee,
To sing thy virgin purity !
Sing thee Apostle, and unroll
Thy heaven-taught truth's far beaming scroll,
Or link thee with the seers divine.
"To sing thee martyr-saint, be mine.

For thou, for thou didst view That death of deaths, companion true! In spirit with thy Lord wert torn By racking cross, and piercing thorn; i The only converse left to thee, Th’ high converse of that agony.

There, as in death He hung, His mantle soft on Thee He flung Of filial love, and nam'd thee son, When now that earthly tie was done; To thy tried faith, and spotless years Consign'd His Virgin-mother's tears.

Could holier charge be given ? True mother of the Lord of Heaven, Hail'd mother by Himself to thee, And thou that mother's son as He ! Call'd, as th’ Immortal deign'd to die That loss of losses to supply!

And when His voice was fled, His lingering look on thee He shed; Thee, His belov'd disciple, taught His dying eye's mysterious thought. When from that blood-stain'd Mercy-throne To all the world His glory shone.

Friend of thy Lord, be mine
My faltering step to match with thine;
To follow onward to the goal
Where love led on thy dauntless soul;
Be mine, as thine, the blessing high,
With Christ to live, with Christ to die.

Glory to Father, Son, And Spirit-Eternal Three in One. Lo! this the stedfast creed we bring Drawn from high Heaven's eternal spring,

The Innocents' Day.


Suffer little children to come unto Me; for of such is the kingdom of Heaven.-Matt, xix.

Little flowers of martyrdom,

Whom the ruthless sword hath torn,
On the threshold of the morn,
Rosebuds by the whirlwind shorn.

All regardless of their doom,

'Neath the altar where they lay,
With their palm and chaplets gay,
Little simple ones they play.

Tyrant, what avails their tomb ?

He shall’scape the bloody blade,
Which hath many childless made,
Infant born of mother-maid.

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