No ache can be without relief When Love Himself draws near; No cup can empty stand, no grief Embitter God's New Year. Time's footsteps quickly die away, Soon emptied is his glass; We wait for an oncoming Day Which nevermore shall pass. Old hopes revive, new hopes are born, The coming months to cheer; And phantom-fears and griefs outworn Die with the dying year. Oh, all the years and all the days Our waiting hearts shall be Harps tremulous with His dear praise Whose is Eternity! S. BARNABAS': _December 31, 1883_. _THE VICTIM._ FOR THE FEAST OF THE CIRCUMCISION: NEW YEAR'S DAY. The sun methinks rose rosy-red On that great New Year's Day, When Blood was in the cradle shed Where Mary's Darling lay. The lark, uprising with the sun, Was silent on the wing; The nightingale, when day was done, Forgot her song to sing. A holy silence reigned around, And hushed was every voice, When in the crib the Cross was found, The Infant-Victim's choice. As moonbeam on a mountain-mere The Mother's face was white; Her eyes were stars, and every tear Gave lustre to their light. Methinks a blushing moon looked down Upon that manger-bed, And wove a mystic glory-crown Around the Sleeper's head. The silence issues in a song, It rises and it swells; E'en than the lark's more blithe and strong, Sweeter than Philomel's, His Church's anthem loud and long The Victim's triumph tells. _THE DAYSMAN._ In boyhood's sorrow-shadowed days, Which memory recalls to-day, In many moods and many ways, My yearning heart would pray. 'T was holy ground where'er I set My feet, God's shrine was everywhere; But this I scarcely knew as yet-- _Christ is His Father's Prayer_.[3] God ever seeks His children's bliss, Appeals to them; and, rightly heard, The music of creation is The echo of His Word. But when the child has learnt his part, The echo is an answer strong; A prayer up-springing from the heart That blossoms in a song. Christ is the Living Word of God, His Poem and His Prophecy; The homeward way His Feet have trod Mankind must travel by. And every man, God's child and priest, Is pledged to ministry divine, Who sees the Ruler of life's feast Turn water into wine; Who hears the Father's voice above, The Spirit's whispering within; Who knows the Messenger of love The Conqueror of sin. Responsive to God's call, our Prayer Art Thou, dear Lord, whene'er we pray; So always now, and everywhere, My heart keeps holiday. ON THE DANUBE: _Feast of the Holy Name_, 1883. FOOTNOTES: [3] _See_ Note C, page 72. _THE PHYSICIAN._ Is life sad for lost love's sake, Falls a blight upon thy bliss, Smiles no more their sunshine make, Lips estranged withhold their kiss? For thy consolation take Some such song as this:--