Restless hearts! restless hearts! ye are toiling night and day, And the flowers of life, all withered, leave but thorns along your way: Ye are waiting, ye are waiting, till your toilings all shall cease, And your ev'ry restless beating is a sad, sad prayer for peace. Restless hearts! God is Peace. Breaking hearts! broken hearts! ye are desolate and lone, And low voices from the past o'er your present ruins moan! In the sweetest of your pleasures there was bitterest alloy, And a starless night hath followed on the sunset of your joy. Broken hearts! God is Joy. Homeless hearts! homeless hearts! through the dreary, dreary years, Ye are lonely, lonely wand'rers, and your way is wet with tears; In bright or blighted places, wheresoever ye may roam, Ye look away from earth-land, and ye murmur, "Where is home?" Homeless hearts! God is Home. A Child's Wish Before an Altar I wish I were the little key That locks Love's Captive in, And lets Him out to go and free A sinful heart from sin. I wish I were the little bell That tinkles for the Host, When God comes down each day to dwell With hearts He loves the most. I wish I were the chalice fair, That holds the Blood of Love, When every flash lights holy prayer Upon its way above. I wish I were the little flower So near the Host's sweet face, Or like the light that half an hour Burns on the shrine of grace. I wish I were the altar where, As on His mother's breast, Christ nestles, like a child, fore'er In Eucharistic rest. But, oh! my God, I wish the most That my poor heart may be A home all holy for each Host That comes in love to me. Presentiment "My Sister" Cometh a voice from a far-land! Beautiful, sad, and low; Shineth a light from the star-land! Down on the night of my woe; And a white hand, with a garland, Biddeth my spirit to go. Away and afar from the night-land, Where sorrow o'ershadows my way, To the splendors and skies of the light-land, Where reigneth eternity's day; To the cloudless and shadowless bright-land, Whose sun never passeth away. And I knew the voice; not a sweeter On earth or in Heaven can be; And never did shadow pass fleeter Than it and its strange melody; And I know I must hasten to meet her, "Yea, ~Sister!~ thou callest to me!" And I saw the light; 'twas not seeming, It flashed from the crown that she wore, And the brow, that with jewels was gleaming, My lips had kissed often of yore! And the eyes, that with rapture were beaming, Had smiled on me sweetly before. And I saw the hand with the garland, Ethel's hand -- holy and fair; Who went long ago to the far-land To weave me the wreath I shall wear; And to-night I look up to the star-land, And pray that I soon may be there. Last of May To the Children of Mary of the Cathedral of Mobile