ST. MATTHIAS' DAY. · Wherefore of these men which have companied with us all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out amongst us, beginning from the baptism of John, unto that same day that He was taken up from us, must one be ordained to be a witness with us of his resurrection. Acts i. 21, 29. WHO is God's chosen priest? He, who on Christ stands waiting day and night, Who hath learn'd lowliness From his Lord's cradle, patience from His cross; and hearts consent to bless; Whom poor men's eyes To whom, for Christ, the world is loss; Who both in agony Hath seen Him and in glory: and in both Body and soul, to live and die, In witness of his Lord, In humble following of his Saviour dear : But who can e'er suffice— What mortal--for this more than angel's task, Winning or losing souls, Thy life-blood's price? The gift were too divine to ask, But Thou hast made it sure By Thy dear promise to Thy Church and Bride, That Thou, on earth, would'st aye with her endure, Till earth to heaven be purified. Thou art her only spouse, Whose arm supports her, on whose faithful breast Thou, her unerring guide, Stayest her fainting steps along the wild: T Who then, uncall'd by Thee, Dare touch thy spouse, thy very self below? Where can thy seal be found, But on the chosen seed, from age to age As kings and priests thy war to wage? Then fearless walk we forth, Yet full of trembling, Messengers of God: Dread Searcher of the hearts, Thou who didst seal by thy descending Dove Else helpless found, to learn and teach thy love. THE ANNUNCIATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY. And the Angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thon that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. St. Luke i. 28. OH! Thou who deign'st to sympathize Yet sure 'twas not presumption, Lord, Thou countest sons' and mothers' love When wandering here a little span, That wedded love we prize so dear, On no sweet sister's faithful breast Would'st thou thine aching forehead rest, On no kind brother lean: But who, O perfect filial heart, E'er did like Thee a true son's part, Endearing, firm, serene? Thou wept'st, meek maiden, mother mild, And yet, what mourning matron here A Son that never did amiss, That never sham'd his mother's kiss, Nor cross'd her fondest prayer : |