All this and more if but their walls could speak, Would tell this day; and we in whose veins flows The fervent blood of Spain, to us each streak Of light which doth reveal a picture true Of gentle friar and lovely vanished times Is tender as the Angelus' sweet chimes. Well may each Mission have a holy spell, And Serra's name become a household word, What marvels can each yellowed archive tell Of him and of his martyr-spirit band. O faithful, dauntless hearts! What brilliant sons Of that great galaxy of Spain's brave sons! We love their saintly lives to ponder o'er, While childhood's fireside tales come back to us, And memory unfolds her precious store, The bygone glories of the Mission towns, The grand old hymns sung at sweet Mary's shrines The Spanish color rich as luscious wines Of Mission vineyards, and the festive hours So full of life yet innocent and good, When blessings seemed to fall as welcome showers, The Indian tribes were ruled with Christian love, And shared the sons and daughters of Castile Their loved Franciscan Fathers' patient zeal! But still we love each altar and each cross Of these dear fanes; e'en as departing rays Of sun doth kiss the crags outlined with moss, We love to linger by their altars' light. But oh fair Carmel, she of Missions Queen What guarding spirits hover here unseen! Sweet Carmel, center of the hero-band, What holy treasures hold thy sacred vaults? Junipero and others! Here we stand In awe of all thou hast been and art still! Cruel times took glory, splendor, power From Missions all, but not their priceless dower, Religion, love and all we hold as dear, No hand can tarnish and no might destroy, And from each hallowed altar ruddy, clear, Still burns the mystic lamp, for God is there! The cross-crowned towers tell that all is not dead, E'en though more splendid times have long since sped. And like a glowing ember in the night Our Lady's love has burned through every change; 'Tis thus the Missions ever saw the light Through labors, ripened harvest-joys and wrongs; Their noon-sun splendors of well won renown Will shine their glorious heritage to crown. O Saintly Serra we implore thy prayer, Thy dauntless spirit sowed the "mustard-seed" Which grew as if by miracle of wonder rare, Upon this now rich land which thou did'st till, O let they mantle on thy clients fall Who on thy gracious aid do humbly call. Chapter I. Junipero Serra, Leader of the Heroic Band of Spanish Missionaries of California. His Coming to San Fernando, Mexico, Thence to California.