We from Thy throes are born to life above: 'Tis thus Thou build'st Thy martyrs, and 'tis thus That Faith herself doth anchor on Thy love. While with Thine arms outstretch'd, bleeding and bare, As to Thy throne of Godhead, Thou to Thee And, clinging at the foot of that dread tree, Beneath Thy wither'd frame and bleeding side, Hide ourselves, and look up, dear Lord, to Thee. That only hope of refuge, only pride Glory to Thee, Eternal Victim slain, aye remain. AT THE VESPERS. Remember that I stood before Thee to speak good for them, and to turn away Thy wrath from them -JEREM. Xviii. "Vexilla Regis prodeunt." Is this the standard of a king? It is the Cross, that sign of mystery, Wonderful tree, and from old time Oft in mysterious measures darkly sung, O precious wood, thou art surpassing fair; Blessed, and blessed-making tree, From what most noble stock didst thou arise, That thou should'st touch those limbs, the bearer be Of Him, the mighty sacrifice, Who, drop by drop, the world's price told that day, And rescued from hell's jaws the living prey. Hail, holy Cross, sole refuge, hail! At this the season of our suffering Lord; In our grief's bitter waters so prevail, That they to us may health afford : All love, all power, all praise, and might, To Him, who veil'd His own essential light, With Father and with Spirit, ever blest, THE VIRGIN MARY AT THE CROSS. What thing shall I liken to thee, O daughter of Jerusalem? what shall I equal to thee that I may comfort thee, O virgin daughter of Zion? for thy breach is great, like the sea: who can heal thee?-ISAIAH XI. "Illæsa te puerpera." Nor a parent's stern control, When He gave, with dying brow, "Tis that pang is on thee now. But we see no rended hair, And we hear no wailing cry, All is silent agony,— "Tis a mother's grief is there. |