COMMEMORATION OF A MARTYR.

AT THE FIRST VESPERS.

Have not I commanded thee? be strong and of a good courage: be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed, for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.-JOSHUA i.

"Ex quo salus mortalium."

OUR Lord the path of suffering trod,
And since His sacred blood hath flowed,
"Tis meet that man should yield to God
The life he owed.

No shame to own the Crucified,

Nay, 'tis our immortality

That we confess our God who died,

And for Him die.

Fill'd with this thought with patient smile
Threat'ning and death he doth withstand,
Fights, Lord, Thy cause, and leans the while
Upon Thine hand.

Seeing above the golden crown,

Into death's arms he willing goes; Dying, he conquers death; o'erthrown, O'erthrows his foes.

Thus one doth vanquish strong-arm'd bands,
And o'er his torturers mightier rise,
"Till e'en the judge astonish'd stands
With awe-struck eyes.

Lord, make us thine own soldiers true,
That we may gain the spirit pure,
And for Thy Name, Thy Cross in view,
All things endure.

Eternal Father of the Word,

Eternal Son, we Thee adore, Eternal Spirit, God and Lord, For evermore.

AT MIDNIGHT.

Whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for My sake and the Gospel's, the same shall save it.-MARK viii.

"Felix morte tuâ, qui cruciatibus."

How happy the mortal,

Through pains and dismay,
Who hath burst the portal
To regions of day.

Where death hath benighted,
Ere life's sun went down,

The faith that he plighted,
With death he doth crown.

Our weak spirits languish
At sound of death's feet,
But thou the stern anguish
Dost go forth to meet.

Yet nothing confounded, With rack and with chains, Where death hath abounded With tortures and pains.

Lo, from highest Heaven,
His champion to own,
Between the clouds riven,
Is Christ looking down.

His hand hath He holden,
Where weak nature fails;

His Spirit doth embolden,
And in him prevails.

Shall we then soft-hearted
Seek ease and repose,

And sing the departed

In death and stern woes?

Let such themes of wonder

Arouse us from sleep,

Lest, woke by death's thunder

We wake but to weep.

Great Father, Son, Spirit,
The Ancient of days,
May we Thee inherit,

And sing of Thy praise.

AT THE MATTINS.

He that overcometh, the same shall be clothed in white raiment; and I will not blot out his name out of the book of life, but I will confess his name before My Father, and before His angels.-REV. iii.

"Jam non te lacerant carnificum manus."

FEAR no more for the torturer's hand,
Nor the dungeon dark that bound thee;
The choirs of Heav'n about thee stand,
Bright shining homes surround thee.

Fear no more for the clanking chain,
Thou art free as light of Heaven;

The stripes that mark'd thy frame with pain,
For rays of thy crown are given.