O my God, there is the hiss of doom When new-glowing flowers are snapt in bloom; When shivered, as a little thunder-cloud, A vase splits on the floor its brilliance loud; Or lightning strikes a willow-tree with gash Cloven for death in a resounded crash; And I have heard that one who could betray His country and yet face the breadth of day, Bowed himself, weeping, but to hear his sword Broken before him, as his sin’s award. These were broken; Thou didst break.... Thou the Flower that Heaven did make Of our race the crown of light; Thou the Vase of Chrysolite Into which God’s balm doth flow; Thou the Willow hung with woe Of our exile harps; Thou Sword Of the Everlasting Word-- Thou, betrayed, Thyself didst break Thy own Body for our sake: Thy own Body Thou didst take In Thy holy hands--and break. SICUT PARVULI With me, laid upon my tongue, As upon Thy Mother’s knee Thou wert laid at Thy Nativity; And she felt Thee lie her wraps among. Tenderest pressure, dint of grace, All she dreamed and loved in God, As a shoot from an old Patriarch’s rod, Laid upon her, felt by her embrace. O my God, to have Thee, feel Thee mine, In Thy helpless Presence! Love, Not to dream of Thee in power above, But receive Thee, Little One divine! As the burthen of a seal May give kingdoms with its touch, Lo, Thy meek preponderance is such, I am straight ennobled as I kneel. Teach me, tiny Godhead, to adore On my flesh Thy tender weight, As Thy Mother, bowing, owned how great Was the Child that unto us she bore. AURUM, THUS, ET MYRRHA--ALLELUIA! O Gift, O Blessèd Sacrament--_my Gold_, All that I live by royally, the power, Like gold, that buys life for me, hour by hour, And crowns me with a greatness manifold Such that my spirit scarce hath spring to hold Its treasure and its sovereignty of dower! O Blessèd Sacrament--_my Frankincense_, God raised aloft in His Divinity, Sweet-smelling as the dry and precious tree, That spreads round sacrifice an odour dense, Hiding with mystic offering our offence; O holy Balm of God that pleads for me! O Gift, O Blessèd Sacrament--_my Myrrh_! Thou art to die for me--a holy Thing, That will preserve my soul from festering, Nor may it feel mortality, the stir And motion into dust, if Thou confer On it Thy bitter strength of cherishing! HOLY COMMUNION In the Beginning--and in me, Flesh of my flesh, O Deity, Bone of my bone; In me alone Create, as if on Thy sixth day, I, of frail breath and clay, Were yet one seed with Thee, Engendering Trinity!