They are thronging From the East and West, From the North and South, Saints are thronging, loving, longing, To their land Of rest, Palm in hand And praise in mouth. "TAKE CARE OF HIM." "Thou whom I love, for whom I died, Lovest thou Me, My bride?"-- Low on my knees I love Thee, Lord, Believed in and adored. "That I love thee the proof is plain: How dost thou love again?"-- In prayer, in toil, in earthly loss, In a long-carried cross. "Yea, thou dost love: yet one adept Brings more for Me to accept."-- I mould my will to match with Thine, My wishes I resign. "Thou givest much: then give the whole For solace of My soul."-- More would I give, if I could get: But, Lord, what lack I yet? "In Me thou lovest Me: I call Thee to love Me in all."-- Brim full my heart, dear Lord, that so My love may overflow. "Love Me in sinners and in saints, In each who needs or faints."-- Lord, I will love Thee as I can In every brother man. "All sore, all crippled, all who ache, Tend all for My dear sake."-- All for Thy sake, Lord: I will see In every sufferer, Thee. "So I at last, upon My Throne Of glory, Judge alone, So I at last will say to thee: Thou diddest it to Me." A MARTYR. THE VIGIL OF THE FEAST. Inner not outer, without gnash of teeth Or weeping, save quiet sobs of some who pray And feel the Everlasting Arms beneath,-- Blackness of darkness this, but not for aye; Darkness that even in gathering fleeteth fast, Blackness of blackest darkness close to day. Lord Jesus, through Thy darkened pillar cast, Thy gracious eyes all-seeing cast on me Until this tyranny be overpast. Me, Lord, remember who remember Thee, And cleave to Thee, and see Thee without sight, And choose Thee still in dire extremity, And in this darkness worship Thee my Light, And Thee my Life adore in shadow of death, Thee loved by day, and still beloved by night. It is the Voice of my Beloved that saith: "I am the Way, the Truth, the Life, I go Whither that soul knows well that followeth"--