Holy warfare, Lord, is mine Against a foe I cannot see,— Oh! aid me with Thy grace divine, Thy faithful soldier let me be. Thy armour—faith and righteousness, Thy holy Word within my hand, When fierce temptations round me press Let me thy faithful soldier stand. Should false shame lure me to deny The truth, or waver in the right, Let me the insidious foe defy, And as Thy faithful soldier fight. And oh! when death’s keen shafts descend, And failing pulse, and glazing eye, Warn that the conflict soon must end, Thy faithful soldier let me die! Washed in Thy blood, let me appear Where crowns are to the conquerors given,— Through Christ alone we triumph here, Or wear the victor’s wreath in Heaven! XXXVII. THE WISE MEN FROM THE EAST. “Where is thy new-born Lord, O Judah? Zion—where thy King? The treasures of our distant land to Him we tribute bring; Lo! in the East we saw His star, the day-spring from on high, And we have come to worship Him enthroned in majesty!” Thus spake the Eastern sages, thus the pious Gentiles spake, But Judah would not know her Lord, His people would not wake; The earth’s Creator was on earth, unnoticed or forgot, The Saviour came unto His own, His own received Him not. The Gentile world that lay in darkness, they have seen the light, Wherefore doth Zion turn away on whom it rose so bright! Oh! thou that bearest joyful tidings, why so mute art thou? Lift up thy voice, Jerusalem, behold thy Saviour now! Oh! joy to those who seek Messiah while He may be found; Again the heavenly harbinger sheds its soft lustre round, Not on proud tower or stately palace streams the radiance mild, But where the carpenter’s meek wife bends o’er her blessed Child. Hail, Mary, highly-favoured, hail! God’s power o’ershadoweth thee, Blessed amongst all women thou in thy humility! Yea, rather blessed they who seek Christ’s precepts to fulfil,— His mother, brethren, sisters, they who know and do His will. The sages to the infant Saviour bring their offerings meet, Rich odours fill the perfumed air, gold glitters at His feet; Oh! happy thus His poverty’s sharp trial to defer, To minister to Him who came to all to minister! May we not deem when He in glory comes, th’ eternal Lord Will all those offerings of faith remember and reward,— That richer than the wealth of worlds that hallowed gold will be, Those sacred odours fragrance breathe through all eternity? But now the Saviour sits enthroned above the Seraphim; When all creation owns his sway, and angels worship Him, Can _our_ poor gifts acceptance find before His glorious throne? The earth is His and all therein, not e’en our lives our own.