ST. AGNES' EVE

DEEP on the convent-roof the snows
Are sparkling to the moon:

My breath to heaven like vapor goes:
May my soul follow soon!

The shadows of the convent-towers
Slant down the snowy sward,

Still creeping with the creeping hours
That lead me to my Lord:

Make Thou my spirit pure and clear
As are the frosty skies,

Or this first snowdrop of the year
That in my bosom lies.

As these white robes are soiled and dark,
To yonder shining ground;

As this pale taper's earthly spark,

To yonder argent round;

So shows my soul before the Lamb,
My spirit before Thee;

So in mine earthly house I am,

To that I hope to be.

Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,
Through all yon starlight keen,
Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,
In raiment white and clean.

He lifts me to the golden doors;
The flashes come and go;
All heaven bursts her starry floors,
And strows her lights below,
And deepens on and up! the gates

Roll back, and far within

For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,
To make me pure of sin.
The Sabbaths of Eternity,

One Sabbath deep and wide

A light, upon the shining sea-
The Bridegroom with his bride!

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

HIS BANNER OVER ME
SURROUNDED by unnumbered foes,
Against my soul the battle goes!
Yet though I weary, sore distressed,
I know that I shall reach my rest:
I lift my tearful eyes above,-
His banner over me is love.

Its sword my spirit will not yield,
Though flesh may faint upon the field;
He waves before my fading sight
The branch of palm,-the crown of light;
I lift my brightening eyes above,-
His banner over me is love.

My cloud of battle-dust may dim,
His veil of splendor curtain him!
And in the midnight of my fear
I may not feel him standing near;
But, as I lift mine eyes above,
His banner over me is love.

Gerald Massey [1828-1907]

JESUS THE CARPENTER

"ISN'T this Joseph's son?"-ay, it is He;
Joseph the carpenter-same trade as me—
I thought as I'd find it-I knew it was here-
But my sight's getting queer.

I don't know right where as His shed must ha' stoodBut often, as I've been a-planing my wood,

I've took off my hat, just with thinking of He

At the same work as me,

He warn't that set up that He couldn't stoop down
And work in the country for folks in the town;
And I'll warrant He felt a bit pride, like I've done,
At a good job begun.

she parson he knows that I'll not make too free,
But on Sunday I feels as pleased as can be,
When I wears my clean smock, and sits in a pew,
And has thoughts a few.

I think of as how not the parson hissen,
As is teacher and father and shepherd o' men,
Not he knows as much of the Lord in that shed,
Where He earned His own bread.

And when I goes home to my missus, says she, "Are ye wanting your key?"

For she knows my queer ways, and my love for the shed, (We've been forty years wed.)

So I comes right away by mysen, with the Book,
And I turns the old pages and has a good look
For the text as I've found, as tells me as He
Were the same trade as me.

Why don't I mark it? Ah, many says so,
But I think I'd as lief, with your leaves, let it go:
It do seem that nice when I fall on it sudden-

Unexpected, you know!

Catharine C. Liddell [1848

"I SAW THEE”

"When thou wast under the fig-tree, I saw thee"

I SAW thee when, as twilight fell,
And evening lit her fairest star,
Thy footsteps sought yon quiet dell,
The world's confusion left afar.

I saw thee when thou stood'st alone,
Where drooping branches thick o'erhung,

Thy still retreat to all unknown,

Hid in deep shadows darkly flung.

I saw thee when, as died each sound
Of bleating flock or woodland bird,
Kneeling, as if on holy ground,

Thy voice the listening silence heard.

I saw thy calm, uplifted eyes,

And marked the heaving of thy breast,
When rose to heaven thy heartfelt sighs
For purer life, for perfect rest.

I saw the light that o'er thy face
Stole with a soft, suffusing glow,
As if, within, celestial grace

Breathed the same bliss that angels know.

I saw what thou didst not-above
Thy lowly head an open heaven;
And tokens of thy Father's love
With smiles to thy rapt spirit given.

I saw thee from that sacred spot
With firm and peaceful soul depart,
I, Jesus, saw thee,-doubt it not,—
And read the secrets of thy heart!

Ray Palmer [1808-1887]

THE VETERAN OF HEAVEN

O CAPTAIN of the wars, whence won Ye so great scars? In what fight did Ye smite, and what manner was the foe?

Was it on a day of rout they compassed Thee about,

Or gat Ye these adornings when Ye wrought their overthrow?

"Twas on a day of rout they girded Me about,

They wounded all My brow, and they smote Me through the side:

My hand held no sword when I met their armèd horde, And the conqueror fell down, and the conquered bruised his pride."

What is this, unheard before, that the unarmed make war, And the slain hath the gain, and the victor hath the rout? What wars, then, are these, and what the enemies,

Strange Chief, with the scars of Thy conquest trenched about?

"The Prince I drave forth held the Mount of the North, Girt with the guards of flame that roll around the pole. I drave him with My wars from all his fortress-stars, And the sea of death divided that My march might strike' its goal.

"In the keep of Northern Guard, many a great demonian sword

Burns as it turns round the Mount occult, apart:

There is given power and place still for some certain days, And his Name would turn the Sun's blood back upon its

heart."

What is Thy Name? O show!-"My Name ye may not know;

'Tis a going forth with banners, and a baring of much

swords:

But my titles that are high, are they not upon my thigh? 'King of Kings!' are the words, 'Lord of Lords'; It is written 'King of Kings, Lord of Lords.""

Francis Thompson [1859?-1907]

LUCIFER IN STARLIGHT

ON a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.
Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend
Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened,
Where sinners hugged their specter of repose.
Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those.
And now upon his western wing he leaned,
Now his huge bulk o'er Afric's sands careened,
Now the black planet shadowed Arctic snows.
Soaring through wider zones that pricked his scars