Spotless their robes and pure, Dipped in the sea of light, That hides the unapproached shrine From men's and angels' sight.

His throne, thy bosom blest, O mother undefiled- That throne, if aught beneath the skies, Beseems the sinless child.

Lost in high thoughts, "whose son The wondrous Babe might prove,"

Her guileless husband walks beside, Bearing the hallowed dove;

Meet emblem of His vow, Who, on this happy day, His dove-like soul-best sacrifice- Did on G.o.d's altar lay.

But who is he, by years Bowed, but erect in heart, Whose prayers are struggling with his tears?

"Lord, let me now depart.

"Now hath Thy servant seen Thy saving health, O Lord; 'Tis time that I depart in peace, According to Thy word."

Yet swells this pomp: one more Comes forth to bless her G.o.d; Full fourscore years, meek widow, she Her heaven-ward way hath troth.

She who to earthly joys So long had given farewell, Now sees, unlooked for, Heaven on earth, Christ in His Israel.

Wide open from that hour The temple-gates are set, And still the saints rejoicing there The holy Child have met.

Now count His train to-day, Auth who may meet Him, learn: Him child-like sires, meek maidens find, Where pride can nought discern.

Still to the lowly soul He doth Himself impart, And for His cradle and His throne Chooseth the pure in heart.

St. Matthias' Day.

Wherefore of these men which have companied with us all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John, unto the same day that He was taken up from us, must one be ordained to be a witness with us of His resurrection. _Acts_ i. 21, 22.

WHO is G.o.d's chosen priest?

He, who on Christ stands waiting day and night, Who traceth His holy steps, nor ever ceased, From Jordan banks to Bethphage height:

Who hath learned lowliness From his Lord's cradle, patience from His Cross; Whom poor men's eyes and hearts consent to bless; To whom, for Christ, the world is loss;

Who both in agony Hath seen Him and in glory; and in both Owned Him divine, and yielded, nothing loth, Body and soul, to live and die,

In witness of his Lord, In humble following of his Saviour dear: This is the man to wield th' unearthly sword, Warring unharmed with sin and fear.

But who can o'er suffice- What mortal-for this more than angels' task, Winning or losing souls, Thy life-blood's price?

The gift were too divine to ask.

But Thou hast made it sure By Thy dear promise to thy Church and Bride, That Thou, on earth, wouldst aye with her endure, Till earth to Heaven be purified.

Thou art her only spouse, Whose arm supports her, on Whose faithful breast Her persecuted head she meekly bows, Sure pledge of her eternal rest.

Thou, her unerring guide, Stayest her fainting steps along the wild; Thy merit is on the bowers of l.u.s.t and pride, That she may pa.s.s them undefiled.

Who then, uncalled by Thee, Dare touch Thy spouse, Thy very self below?

Or who dare count him summoned worthily, Except Thine hand and seal he show?

Where can Thy seal be found, But on thou chosen seed, from age to age By thine anointed heralds duly crowned, As kings and priests Thy war to wage?

Then fearless walk we forth, Yet full of trembling, Messengers of G.o.d: Our warrant sure, but doubting of our worth, By our own shame alike and glory awed.

Dread Searcher of the hearts, Thou who didst seal by Thy descending Dove Thy servant's choice, O help us in our parts, Else helpless found, to learn and teach Thy love.

The Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

And the Angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.

_St. Luke_ i. 28.

OH! Thou who deign'st to sympathise With all our frail and fleshly ties, Maker yet Brother dear, Forgive the too presumptuous thought, If, calming wayward grief, I sought To gaze on Thee too near.

Yet sure 'twas not presumption, Lord, 'Twas Thine own comfortable word That made the lesson known: Of all the dearest bonds we prove, Thou countest sons and mothers' love Most sacred, most Thine own.

When wandering here a little span, Thou took'st on Thee to rescue man, Thou had'st no earthly sire: That wedded love we prize so dear, As if our heaven and home were here, It lit in Thee no fire.

On no sweet sister's faithful breast Wouldst Thou Thine aching forehead rest, On no kind brother lean: But who, O perfect filial heart, E'er did like Thee a true son's part, Endearing, firm, serene?

Thou wept'st, meek maiden, mother mild, Thou wept'st upon thy sinless Child, Thy very heart was riven: And yet, what mourning matron here Would deem thy sorrows bought too dear By all on this side Heaven?

A Son that never did amiss, That never shamed His Mother's kiss, Nor crossed her fondest prayer: E'en from the tree He deigned to bow, For her His agonised brow, Her, His sole earthly care.

Ave Maria! blessed Maid!

Lily of Eden's fragrant shade, Who can express the love That nurtured thee so pure and sweet, Making thy heart a shelter meet For Jesus' holy dove?

Ave Maria! Mother blest, To whom, caressing and caressed, Clings the eternal Child; Favoured beyond Archangels' dream, When first on Thee with tenderest gleam Thy new-born Saviour smiled:-

Ave Maria! thou whose name All but adoring love may claim, Yet may we reach thy shrine; For He, thy Son and Saviour, vows To crown all lowly lofty brows With love and joy like thine.

Blessed is the womb that bare Him-blessed The bosom where His lips were pressed, But rather blessed are they Who hear His word and keep it well, The living homes where Christ shall dwell, And never pa.s.s away.

St. Mark's Day.

And the contention was so sharp between them, that they departed asunder one from the other. _Acts_ xv. 30.

Compare 2 _Tim._ iv. 11. Take Mark, and bring him with thee: for he is profitable to me for the ministry.

OH! who shall dare in this frail scene On holiest happiest thoughts to lean, On Friendship, Kindred, or on Love?

Since not Apostles' hands can clasp Each other in so firm a grasp But they shall change and variance prove.