Part 7 (2/2)

The worldly wise, he does not heed,-- What love sees true is true indeed!

Immortal blooms this hardy blossom, And deathless fruits in a deathless creed.

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Unveiled as kinsman, Love did seek His wandering brethren, Jew and Greek.

(That G.o.d made man in His own image Did human life of our G.o.d fore-speak).

Nor mask nor vesture was His mien By man and angels wistly seen, Nor filmy veil, nor apparition, G.o.d's human life as the Nazarene.

A man the Christ of G.o.d earth trod, And showed to man, and worlds abroad, The holy, good, and sorrowing Father, Atoning love, and the heart of G.o.d.

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O glorious light! Thy limpid wave Doth floor of living being pave, And life from out the caves of darkness Waft to His sheltering architrave.

From void of night's lone pall of jet, Yellow and red and violet Into a quivering beam were woven,-- His flying looms are aweaving yet.

If man and beast and tree and flower Unweave not Love's rich beauteous dower, All Danae again earth darkles Beneath His ceaseless and golden shower.

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Hail, Mary, honored of the race!

Light of the Home, its fount of grace, Is woman--sister, wife, and mother-- Circling a towered and a heavenly place.

She sorrowed oft for Love's dear sake, She did the alabaster break; Like Him she knows of pain and anguish, And doth for life of death's cup partake.

Hope of the race! since from Home's throne (Sweet Love's own gift, and His alone,) She giveth laws to coming ages-- Builder from cope to foundation stone!

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Frail Lucia of a mutual love!

Fair little winged cooing dove, Thou'st fluttered down from thy far dovecote, Awhile to nestle in earth's sweet grove.

Would it were sweeter, child, for thee-- Sweet as the silver-breaking sea (When Indian summer broods upon it) Doth flute and fife to the golden tree!

Thine angel listens for thy breath Whene'er he hears the wings of death, Looks in the Father's face and prayeth-- ”For earth's sake spare her,” he softly saith.

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