She, haply, fondly deems

That she would bear His pains,
The weight she little dreams

Of all our guilty stains ;

His dying head she sees Him bow,
And silence speaks her solemn woe.

To Father, and to Son,

As hath been aye of yore;

To Spirit, ever one,

Be praise for evermore :

In whom our souls, all newly born,
Kindle with fires of heavenly morn.

AT MIDNIGHT.

They shall look upon Me, and they shall mourn as one mourneth for his only son, and shall be in bitterness for Him, as one that is in bitterness for his first-born-ZECH. xii.

"Plagis Magistri saucia."

SAD Mary feels in her own breast

Her Master's bleeding wounds;

Love stronger burns by griefs opprest,
And now with tears abounds.

No raging crowds her spirit meek,
No deeds of blood appal;

'Mid soldiers fierce she dares to seek
A hated criminal.

Ah, Mary, thou dost little know
What good doth thee surround;
Seeking the dead, while death e'en now
Receives his mortal wound.

He whom thou lovest thee shall claim,
Arous'd from death's cold sleep;
Thee first He calls, thee by thy name,
And bids thee not to weep.

O might I touch Thy sacred feet,

Adoring, cling to Thee !

Nay, raise thy thoughts to joys more meet, For immortality.

The promises are fully wrought,

First of Apostles thou,

Sent to Apostles, by thee taught

The tidings glad to know.

All love and glory be to Thee,
The Father, Spirit, Son;
Coequal, coeternal Three,
Thrice blessed, Holy One.

AT THE MATTINS.

I love them that love Me, and those that seek Me early shall find Me.-PROV. viii.

"Maria sacro saucia vulnere."

WHY for thy Lord dost thou thus weep and mourn, Like one half-broken-hearted and forlorn;

No need for Him that thou shouldst mourn and

weep,

No need with tears an empty shroud to steep.

He, whom thou seekest in the murky tomb,
Hath sprung bright and victorious from the gloom;
He lives, He greatly lives for evermore ;

See wide the rocks ope the sepulchral door.

Why bringst thou myrrh and spices, offerings meet

For livid corpses in their winding sheet?
His body blooms with immortality,

Meet to return to His paternal sky.

Thy tears proclaim the greatness of thy love,
Nor doth thy Lord thy flowing tears reprove;
Hear'st thou and know'st thou not that voice
adored?

'Tis thine own name! He speaks-thy God and Lord.

Now go, first witness and first messenger,
Throughout the city thy glad tidings bear,

And teach the Twelve that Christ Himself is nigh,
And, wheresoe'er thou speakest, standing by.

All love, and praise, and majesty be Thine,
Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit Divine;
Quicken'd by whom our bodies shall return,
And in immortal bloom for ever burn.

ST. PETER IN PRISON.

AT THE VESPERS.

I have made thee this day a defenced city, and an iron pillar, and brazen walls against the whole land, against the kings of Judah, against the princes thereof, against the priests thereof, and against the people of the land. And they shall fight against thee: but they shall not prevail against thee; for I am with thee, saith the Lord, to deliver thee.-JER. i.

"Qui Christiano gloriantur nomine."

No brazen fetters have the captive bound,
Who glories in the Name invincible;
Nor the dread sound

Of sentry watching by the bolted cell;

He in his chains hath truer freedom found.

'Mid purer heav'ns his unchain'd spirit doth stray, The ponderous iron is by love made light,

And the clear ray

Breaks in the prison-house of gloomy night
From the bright courts of ever-during day.