Oh Thou, of Virgin-mother born,
Jesu, all praise to Thee :
All glory be to Father, Son,
And Holy Spirit, Three in One,
To all eternity.

AT THE VESPERS.

I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your Father which is in Heaven.-ST. MATT. V.

"Miris probat sese modis."

HOLY Love towards her foes

In mysterious channels flows;

Bow'd to soothe, or steel'd to blame,

Holy Love is still the same.

Pleader for himself he stood :—
Now he falls, his eloquent blood
From the ground for mercy cries,
Pleading for his enemies.

G

God from Heav'n His martyr heard,— Heard, and bless'd his dying word: Saul, the murderer, standing by,Saul was granted to that cry.

Thus he bow'd his drooping head,
Thus his joyous spirit fled :

Jesu, Lord," his offering free,— "Take the life I owe to Thee."

Death, kind angel, watching nigh,
Sweetly clos'd his tranquil eye;
Whilst the freed spirit wing'd her flight,
From beam to beam, to endless light.

Thou that dealtst thy plenteous store
Daily to the sick and poor,
Now art come, a welcome guest,
To thy Father's table blest.

In thy bridal crown display'd,
In the wedding robe array'd
Of thy purple life-blood wove,
For the Slain One's feast of love.

Thou of Virgin-mother born,
In this wintry world forlorn,
Jesu, Lord, all praise to Thee.
All glory be to Father, Son,
And Holy Spirit, Three in One,
Unto all eternity.

ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST'S DAY.

AT MIDNIGHT.

The Lord Himself is the portion of mine inheritance and of my cup: Thou maintainest my lot.-PSALM XVI.

"Tu quem præ reliquis Christus amaverat."

THOU, whom before the rest,

The love of Jesus bless'd;

Thou darling of the Incarnate Deity,
Sharer of all His woes,

Friend of His dying throes,
Eye-witness of His awful sovereignty.

Too favour'd thou of Heav'n,

Oh thou, to whom 'twas given

To touch with mortal hand th' immortal Lord;
With mortal ear and eye

To hear and see him nigh,

And hold high converse with th' eternal Word.

How mighty was the boon,

When oft to thee alone

Thy Lord in love His secret soul display'd,—

When on His mountain-throne

To thee reveal'd He shone,

Full God, full man in Deity array'd.

Thou, as on Jesus' breast

All peaceful thou dost rest, Drink'st of the living streams of Deity. Whilst on thy cleansed sense

With silent influence

More closely steals His dread Divinity.

Thy raptur'd spirit fled its laggard clay.

Say, when in calm repose

-

Thy tranced eye-lids close,

To what bright dreams of Heav'n they waken, say.

Oh access dread, oh bliss

Of mutual love, ere this

To every soul in every age unknown!

When such the altar-fire,

That lights thy pure desire,

What countless rays it scatters from its throne!