No fading frail memorial give To soothe his soul when thou art gone, But wreaths of hope for aye to live, And thoughts of good together done.

That so, before the judgment-seat, Though changed and glorified each face, Not unremembered ye may meet For endless ages to embrace.

St. Thomas' Day.

Thomas, because thou hast seen Me, thou hast believed; blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed. _St. John_ xx. 29.

WE were not by when Jesus came, But round us, far and near, We see His trophies, and His name In choral echoes hear.

In a fair ground our lot is cast, As in the solemn week that past, While some might doubt, but all adored, Ere the whole widowed Church had seen her risen Lord.

Slowly, as then, His bounteous hand The golden chain unwinds, Drawing to Heaven with gentlest band Wise hearts and loving minds.

Love sought Him first-at dawn of morn From her sad couch she sprang forlorn, She sought to weep with Thee alone, And saw Thine open grave, and knew that thou wert gone.

Reason and Faith at once set out To search the SAVIOUR'S tomb; Faith faster runs, but waits without, As fearing to presume, Till Reason enter in, and trace Christ's relics round the holy place- "Here lay His limbs, and here His sacred head, And who was by, to make His new-forsaken bed?"

Both wonder, one believes-but while They muse on all at home, No thought can tender Love beguile From Jesus' grave to roam.

Weeping she stays till He appear- Her witness first the Church must hear- All joy to souls that can rejoice With her at earliest call of His dear gracious voice.

Joy too to those, who love to talk In secret how He died, Though with sealed eyes awhile they walk, Nor see him at their side: Most like the faithful pair are they, Who once to Emmaus took their way, Half darkling, till their Master shied His glory on their souls, made known in breaking bread.

Thus, ever brighter and more bright, On those He came to save The Lord of new-created light Dawned gradual from the grave; Till pa.s.sed th' enquiring day-light hour, And with closed door in silent bower The Church in anxious musing sate, As one who for redemption still had long to wait.

Then, gliding through th' unopening door, Smooth without step or sound, "Peace to your souls," He said-no more- They own Him, kneeling round.

Eye, ear, and hand, and loving heart, Body and soul in every part, Successive made His witnesses that hour, Cease not in all the world to show His saving power.

Is there, on earth, a spirit frail, Who fears to take their word, Scarce daring, through the twilight pale, To think he sees the Lord?

With eyes too tremblingly awake To bear with dimness for His sake?

Read and confess the Hand Divine That drew thy likeness here so true in every line.

For all thy rankling doubts so sore, Love thou thy Saviour still, Him for thy Lord and G.o.d adore, And ever do His will.

Though vexing thoughts may seem to last, Let not thy soul be quite o'ercast;- Soon will He show thee all His wounds, and say, "Long have I known Thy name-know thou My face alway."

The Conversion of St. Paul.

And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me? And he said, Who art Thou, Lord? And the Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. _Acts_ ix. 4, 5.

THE mid-day sun, with fiercest glare, Broods o'er the hazy twinkling air: Along the level sand The palm-tree's shade unwavering lies, Just as thy towers, Damascus, rise To greet you wearied band.

The leader of that martial crew Seems bent some mighty deed to do, So steadily he speeds, With lips firm closed and fixed eye, Like warrior when the fight is night, Nor talk nor landscape heeds.

What sudden blaze is round him poured, As though all Heaven's refulgent h.o.a.rd In one rich glory shone?

One moment-and to earth he falls: What voice his inmost heart appalls?- Voice heard by him alone.

For to the rest both words and form Seem lost in lightning and in storm, While Saul, in wakeful trance, Sees deep within that dazzling field His persecuted Lord revealed, With keen yet pitying glance:

And hears time meek upbraiding call As gently on his spirit fall, As if th' Almighty Son Were prisoner yet in this dark earth, Nor had proclaimed His royal birth, Nor His great power begun.

"Ah! wherefore persecut'st thou Me?"

He heard and saw, and sought to free His strained eyes from the sight: But Heaven's high magic bound it there, Still gazing, though untaught to bear Th' insufferable light.

"Who art Thou, Lord?" he falters forth:- So shall Sin ask of heaven and earth At the last awful day.

"When did we see Thee suffering nigh, And pa.s.sed Thee with unheeding eye?

Great G.o.d of judgment, say!"

Ah! little dream our listless eyes What glorious presence they despise, While, in our noon of life, To power or fame we rudely press.- Christ is at hand, to scorn or bless, Christ suffers in our strife.

And though heaven's gate long since have closed, And our dear Lord in bliss reposed, High above mortal ken, To every ear in every land (Thought meek ears only understand) He speaks as he did then.

"Ah! wherefore persecute ye Me?

'Tis hard, ye so in love should be With your own endless woe.

Know, though at G.o.d's right hand I live, I feel each wound ye reckless give To the least saint below.

"I in your care My brethren left, Not willing ye should be bereft Of waiting on your Lord.

The meanest offering ye can make- A drop of water-for love's sake, In Heaven, be sure, is stored."

O by those gentle tones and dear, When thou hast stayed our wild career, Thou only hope of souls, Ne'er let us cast one look behind, But in the thought of Jesus find What every thought controls.

As to Thy last Apostle's heart Thy lightning glance did then impart Zeal's never-dying fire, So teach us on Thy shrine to lay Our hearts, and let them day by day Intenser blaze and higher.

And as each mild and winning note (Like pulses that round harp-strings float When the full strain is o'er) Left lingering on his inward ear Music, that taught, as death drew near, Love's lesson more and more:

So, as we walk our earthly round, Still may the echo of that sound Be in our memory stored "Christians! behold your happy state: Christ is in these, who round you wait; Make much of your dear Lord!"

The Purification.

Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see G.o.d. _St. Matthew_ v. 8.

BLESS'D are the pure in heart, For they shall see our G.o.d, The secret of the Lord is theirs, Their soul is Christ's abode.

Might mortal thought presume To guess an angel's lay, Such are the notes that echo through The courts of Heaven to-day.

Such the triumphal hymns On Sion's Prince that wait, In high procession pa.s.sing on Towards His temple-gate.

Give ear, ye kings-bow down, Ye rulers of the earth- This, this is He: your Priest by grace, Your G.o.d and King by birth.

No pomp of earthly guards Attends with sword and spear, And all-defying, dauntless look, Their monarch's way to clear;

Yet are there more with Him Than all that are with you- The armies of the highest Heaven, All righteous, good, and true.