Whispering it says to each apart, "Come unto Me, thou trembling heart;"

And we must hope, so sweet the tone, The precious words are all our own.

Hear them, kind Saviour-hear Thy Spouse Low at Thy feet renew her vows; Thine own dear promise she would plead For us her true though fallen seed.

She pleads by all Thy mercies, told Thy chosen witnesses of old, Love's heralds sent to man forgiven, One from the Cross, and one from Heaven.

This, of true penitents the chief, To the lost spirit brings relief, Lifting on high th' adored Name:- "Sinners to save, Christ, Jesus came."

That, dearest of Thy bosom Friends, Into the wavering heart descends:- "What? fallen again? yet cheerful rise.

Thine Intercessor never dies."

The eye of Faith, that waxes bright Each moment by thine altar's light, Sees them e'en now: they still abide In mystery kneeling at our side:

And with them every spirit blest, From realms of triumph or of rest, From Him who saw creation's morn, Of all Thine angels eldest born,

To the poor babe, who died to-day, Take part in our thanksgiving lay, Watching the tearful joy and calm, While sinners taste Thine heavenly balm.

Sweet awful hour! the only sound One gentle footstep gliding round, Offering by turns on Jesus' part The Cross to every hand and heart.

Refresh us, Lord, to hold it fast; And when Thy veil is drawn at last, Let us depart where shadows cease, With words of blessing and of peace.

Holy Baptism.

WHERE is it mothers learn their love?- In every Church a fountain springs O'er which th' Eternal Dove Hovers out softest wings.

What sparkles in that lucid flood Is water, by gross mortals eyed: But seen by Faith, 'tis blood Out of a dear Friend's side.

A few calm words of faith and prayer, A few bright drops of holy dew, Shall work a wonder there Earth's charmers never knew.

O happy arms, where cradled lies, And ready for the Lord's embrace, That precious sacrifice, The darling of His grace!

Blest eyes, that see the smiling gleam Upon the slumbering features glow, When the life-giving stream Touches the tender brow!

Or when the holy cross is signed, And the young soldier duly sworn, With true and fearless mind To serve the Virgin-born.

But happiest ye, who sealed and blest Back to your arms your treasure take, With Jesus' mark impressed To nurse for Jesus' sake:

To whom-as if in hallowed air Ye knelt before some awful shrine- His innocent gestures wear A meaning half divine:

By whom Love's daily touch is seen In strengthening form and freshening hue, In the fixed brow serene, The deep yet eager view.-

Who taught thy pure and even breath To come and go with such sweet grace?

Whence thy reposing Faith, Though in our frail embrace?

O tender gem, and full of Heaven!

Not in the twilight stars on high, Not in moist flowers at even See we our G.o.d so nigh.

Sweet one, make haste and know Him too, Thine own adopting Father love, That like thine earliest dew Thy dying sweets may prove.

Catechism.

OH! say not, dream not, heavenly notes To childish ears are vain, That the young mind at random floats, And cannot reach the strain.

Dim or unheard, the words may fall, And yet the heaven-taught mind May learn the sacred air, and all The harmony unwind.

Was not our Lord a little child, Taught by degrees to pray, By father dear and mother mild Instructed day by day?

And loved He not of Heaven to talk With children in His sight, To meet them in His daily walk, And to His arms invite?

What though around His throne of fire The everlasting chant Be wafted from the seraph choir In glory jubilant?

Yet stoops He, ever pleased to mark Our rude essays of love, Faint as the pipe of wakening lark, Heard by some twilight grove:

Yet is He near us, to survey These bright and ordered files, Like spring-flowers in their best array, All silence and all smiles.

Save that each little voice in turn Some glorious truth proclaims, What sages would have died to learn, Now taught by cottage dames.

And if some tones be false or low, What are all prayers beneath But cries of babes, that cannot know Half the deep thought they breathe?

In His own words we Christ adore, But angels, as we speak, Higher above our meaning soar Than we o'er children weak:

And yet His words mean more than they, And yet He owns their praise: Why should we think, He turns away From infants' simple lays?

Confirmation.

THE shadow of th' Almighty's cloud Calm on this tents of Israel lay, While drooping paused twelve banners proud, Till He arise and lead this way.

Then to the desert breeze unrolled, Cheerly the waving pennons fly, Lion or eagle-each bright fold A lodestar to a warrior's eye.

So should Thy champions, ere this strife By holy hands o'ershadowed kneel, So, fearless for their charmed life, Bear, to this end, Thy Spirit's seal.

Steady and pure as stars that beam In middle heaven, all mist above, Seen deepest in this frozen stream:- Such is their high courageous love.

And soft as pure, and warm as bright, They brood upon life's peaceful hour, As if the Dove that guides their flight Shook from her plumes a downy shower.

Spirit of might and sweetness too!

Now leading on the wars of G.o.d, Now to green isles of shade and dew Turning the waste Thy people trod;

Draw, Holy Ghost, Thy seven-fold veil Between us and the fires of youth; Breathe, Holy Ghost, Thy freshening gale, Our fevered brow in age to soothe.