“ Before he felt there was some one there!
He looked, and saw in the sun-lit air
An angel, floating on wings of white;
Nor did he wonder at such a sight:
For angels often had come to cheer
His soul, and he thought them always near.
Happy and humble, he bowed his head,
And listened, while thus the angel said:
"Go to the nearest town, and there,
To-morrow, will be in the market square
A mountebank, playing his tricks for show:
He is the man thou hast prayed to know;
His soul, as seen by the light divine,
Is neither better nor worse than thine. ”

“ Nor Thy holy will accept.
"Oh, give me patience, for life is hard;
And the daily strength I need!
And by Thy grace I will try to bear
The burden for me decreed.
"I'll change my ways with the children now,
Though they give me added cares.
Poor babes! I know, if they love me not,
That the blame is mine, not theirs!"
She kept her word as the weeks went on,
And she fought with fate no more:
'T was now with a patient, humble heart
That her daily cross she bore.
The children wondered to see her change
So greatly in look and speech! ”

“ And so one night, without sound or word,
Away in the dark he stole,
And all that he took for his journey long
Was the weight of a burdened soul.
They waited long in that den of crime,
But they saw their chief no more;
Or dead or living, they found him not,
Though they searched the mountain o'er.
And in the country, so long oppressed,
When his sudden flight was known,
They spoke of a wild and fearful night,
When the fiends had claimed their own.
And soon the tale to a legend turned,
And men trembling used to tell
Of how they carried him, body and soul,
To the place where demons dwell. ”

“ To the town of Alexandria, which knew him long by fame,
To see the holy Patriarch, who had been his friend of old,
To hear his words of wisdom, and his saintly life behold.
In youth their paths together lay, and both with one accord
Had chosen then the better part, and thought to serve the Lord;
For half a century now and more had each one gone his way.
The Patriarch nearer was to God, far nearer than that day;
For his soul was like a garden where the flowers that then were sown,
With care and patient tending, had to perfect beauty grown.
And Troilus? ... ”

“ And a solemn voice replied:
"That cross belongs to a maiden young,
But of youth she little knows;
For the days to her are days of pain,
And the night brings scant repose.
"A helpless, suffering, useless thing!
And her pain will never cease,
Till death in pity will come one day,
And her troubles end in peace.
"She never has walked the pleasant fields,
Nor has sat beneath the trees;
The hospital wall that shuts her in
Is the only world she sees.
"She has no mother, she has no home,
And in strangers' hands she lies;
With none to care for her while she lives,
Nor weep for her when she dies." ”

“ He shrank from himself as one might shrink
From a venomous, hateful thing.
For scenes of blood from the years gone by
Forever before him came;
He closed his eyes, and his face he hid,
But he saw them just the same.
And in the horror he dared not pray,
For he felt his soul accurst,
And he feared to live, and he feared to die,
And he knew not which was worst.
Yet far on high, and beyond his reach,
He could see a vision dim,
A far-off glory of peace and love ”

“ That voice to hear and that face to see!
The children run to Him where He stands,
And cling with their little sunbrowned hands
To His garment; and the parents feel
Their burden lightened while yet they kneel.
"Thank God, who spared us!" the agèd say,
"To look on Thy blessèd face to-day!"
The sick are healed, and the weak made strong,
And hearts consoled that had suffered long:
A sound of gladness, of praise and prayer,
Floats far away on the summer air.
Amid such transports of young and old,
How was it that one could still be cold? ”

“ He thought how many his prayers had been,
But they could not lift the cloud.
'T was over now, there was nothing left
For his pitying love to do;
The worn-out body would rest at last,
But the guilty soul,—who knew?
No more to do but to watch and wait
Till the failing breath should cease;
He longed, as the counted minutes flew,
For one parting smile of peace.
He looked: a handkerchief veiled the eyes,
For they wept until the end,
And sadly still on the wasted cheek
Did a few slow drops descend. ”

“ That we laboured years to win.
"We bought his soul, and the price we paid,
And our part has well been done;
We helped him ever from crime to crime,
Till his buried wealth was won;
"And we almost thought him one of us,
He had so well learned our ways;
So go, for we do but seek our own,
And be done with these delays."
The angel said, "He has wept his sin,
As none ever wept before,
Has mourned till his very life gave way,
And what could a man do more?
"And our Blessèd Lord, who pities all,
And the sins of all has borne,
Will never His mercy turn away
From a heart so bruised and torn." ”

“ You will think of Marianna, and her vision by the fire.
In a convent, old and quiet, near a little country town,
On a chestnut-shaded hillside, to the river sloping down,
Dwelt a few of those good sisters who go out among the poor,
Who must labour late and early, and much weariness endure;
And the one who did in patience and in all good works excel
Was the Sister Marianna, she whose story now I tell.
She was ever kind and willing, for each heavy task prepared:
No one ever thought to spare her, and herself she never spared. ”

“ He had finished all she failed in, He had watched while she reposed.
Do you ask of His appearance? Human words are weak and cold;
'T is enough to say she knew Him—that is all she ever told.
Yes, as you and I will know Him when that happy day shall come,
When, if we on earth have loved Him, He will bid us welcome home!
But with that one look He left her, and the vision all had passed,
(Though the peace it left within her to her dying hour would last!)
Storm had ceased, and wind was silent, there was no more sound of rain,
And the morning star was shining through the window's broken pane. ”

“ But who shall ever the anger tell
Of that black and hateful band,
When most in triumph they felt secure,
The prey had escaped their hand.
They stood one moment in speechless rage,
And then, with a fearful sound
Of shrieks and curses and rattling chains,
They vanished beneath the ground.
Then holy peace on the chamber fell,
Till it flooded all the air;
The angels praised and they thanked the Lord,
Who so late had heard their prayer.
And their clouded glory shone again,
With a clear celestial ray,
As the trembling soul, which that moment passed,
They bore in their arms away. ”

“ But she went that way so often she could climb it in the dark!
'T was to nurse a poor young mother, by fierce malady assailed,
That she made the daily journey, and she never once had failed.
Now the short sharp days were over, and the spring had just begun;
Every morn the light came sooner, and more strength was in the sun.
All around the grass was springing, and its tender verdure spread,
Mid the empty burrs of chestnuts, and the old leaves, brown and dead,
Low and small, but creeping, creeping till it almost touched the edge
Of the daily lessening snow-drifts, under rock or thorny hedge. ”

“ Have I been blind, and my soul deceived?"
The other, seeing the old man grieved,
Said: "Father, why do you care so much
For one not worthy your robe to touch?
The Lord is gracious, and if He will,
He can forgive and save me still.
And as for my wicked life, 't is I,
Not you, who have reason to weep and sigh!
Your prayers may help me, and bring me peace."
The hermit made him a sign to cease;
Then raised his head, and began to speak,
With tears on his wrinkled, sun-browned cheek.
"If you could remember even one
Good deed that you in your life have done,
I need not go in despair away. ”

“ For it did not look so great.
"A mother's cross is the one you bear,"
So the voice in answer said,
"And she once had children six like you;
But her children all are dead.
"She has all besides that earth can give;
She has friends and wealth to spare,
And house and land—but she counts them not,
For the children are not there.
"Time passes slowly, and she grows old;
But she may not yet depart.
In lonely splendour she counts the years,
With an empty, hungry heart. ”

“ While your own vocation, brother, is with open hand to give.
Let not one defraud the other, take your part and leave me mine,
For however we may divide it, all the service is divine.
Let us feed God's flock together, for His needy children care,
I the souls, and you the bodies, so the burden we may share."
"Then so be it," said the other, but his voice was low and grave,
And he prayed to God in silence for the soul he could not save.
"We must write it all in order, we must sign and seal it too,
So that mine may be the blessing, while the gold remains with you." ”

“ When of worldly pomp and splendour there was nothing to be seen.
For the cross of many jewels on his bosom shone no more,
Having gone on works of mercy to increase his heavenly store.
But the poor and needy sought him; he was now their faithful friend,
And they knew, whatever befell them, on his love they might depend.
So his closing days were happy, after years of sordid care,
For no gain can bring contentment till the poor have had their share;
And he lightened many a burden, and he righted many a wrong,
And the wealth became a blessing that had been a curse so long ”

“ Green beneath the palm-trees' shade;
And a spring, forever flowing,
Life amid the stillness made.
There a brotherhood, incited
By one hope and purpose high,
Came to dwell in faith united,
Pray and labour, live and die.
Mighty was the love that bound them.
Each to each, in that wild land,
Where the desert closed around them,
One dead waste of rocks and sand,
Saving where, to rest their eyes on,
While they dreamed of hills divine,
Blue, above the low horizon,
Stretched the mountains' wavy line.
There could nought of earth remind them,
Nor disturb their dreams and prayers ”

“ Since the sun that morning rose.
Stood the younger man astonished,
And no more bewailed his fate;
Only bowed his head, admonished
By the sight of want so great.
Then he said: "Come here, my brother,
And the lupins we will share;
Maybe, if we help each other,
God will have us in His care."
"Thank the Lord! and you, kind master!
May He help you in your need;
Save your soul from all disaster
And remember your good deed!"
Said the beggar, smiling brightly.
And the other thus replied,—
Now content, and walking lightly
By his poorer neighbour's side,—
"Friend, you have a blessing brought me. ”

“ AND OTHER POEMS
THE HIDDEN SERVANTS
A sheltered nook on a mountain side,
Shut in, and guarded, and fortified
By rocks that hardly a goat would climb,
All smoothed by tempest and bleached by time—
Such was the spot that the hermit chose,
From youth to age, for his life's repose.
There had he lived for forty years,
Trying, with penance and prayers and tears,
To make his soul like a polished stone
In God's great temple; for this alone
Was the one dear wish that his soul possessed,
And 't was little he cared for all the rest,
Nothing had changed since first he came ”

“ And in a moment were things made clear
Had vexed him many a weary year!
For he, who had thought on earth to view
God's people only a scattered few,
Saw now, in spirit, an army great
Of hidden servants who on Him wait.
No saintly legends their names disclose,
And no man living their number knows,
Nor can their service and place declare.
The hidden servants are everywhere!
And some are hated, despised, alone;
And some to even themselves unknown.
But the Father's house has room for all,
And never one from His hand can fall! ”

“ Had strength to rise, and his chain to break;
The holy sweetness that fills the heart
Of him who dwells from the world apart,
His life one dream of celestial things,
Till almost heaven to earth he brings;
Or yet the humble, unnoticed life
Of toiling mother and patient wife,
Who, year on year, has had grace to bear
Her changeless burden of daily care,—
Are all accepted with equal love,
And laid with treasures that wait above
Until the day when we all believe
That every man shall his deeds receive. ”

“ There are many heap up treasure, but it is not every one
Who will take his treasure with him when his earthly life is done.
Was she beautiful? I know not. She had eyes of peaceful light,
And her face looked sweet and blooming in its frame of linen white.
To the sick and heavy-hearted she was pleasant to behold,
And she seemed a heavenly vision to the feeble and the old.
She was happy when she wandered up the wandering mountain road,
Bearing food and warmth and blessing to some desolate abode,
Though the ice-cold winds were blowing and her woman's strength was tried ”

“ While the Patriarch stood rejoicing in the deed his friend had done;
By himself he judged another, and he thought the victory won.
For one moment Bishop Troilus feels his narrow heart expand,
When the maiden thanks him weeping, and the children kiss his hand,
And the mother, just departing, from the pillow where she lies,
Turns one happy smile upon him, with a blessing in her eyes. ”

“ With the saints could ill agree.
The holy relics that on it lay
Did a strange confusion make;
In all that most he had loved before,
He could no more pleasure take.
A charm there was in the golden shrine
That had all his soul possessed;
He sat and looked at each sacred sign
With a dreamy sense of rest.
'T was not the gold that could soothe him thus,
And 't was not the work so fine:
'T was the holy soul of the artist monk,
For it lived in every line.
Like one who sleeps when the day begins,
And, before his slumbers end,
The morning light and the morning sounds
With his dreaming fancies blend ”

“ And a glory rested on her from the opening door above;
Yet one shadow marred its splendour when she looked with anxious love
On a little maid, her daughter, with a pretty, careworn face,
Who had brought two younger children, waiting now for her embrace,
Wondering why she did not give it, why so deadly still she lay,
For they knew not, though she knew it, she would not live out the day.
Said the Patriarch: "Brother Troilus, have you nothing you could give
To this woman and her children, for she has not long to live? ”