Then fearless walk we forth, Yet full of trembling, Messengers of God: Our warrant sure, but doubting of our worth, By our own shame alike and glory awed. Dread Searcher of the hearts, Thou who didst seal by Thy descending Dove Thy servant’s choice, O help us in our parts, Else helpless found, to learn and teach Thy love. The Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary. And the Angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. _St. Luke_ i. 28. OH! Thou who deign’st to sympathise With all our frail and fleshly ties, Maker yet Brother dear, Forgive the too presumptuous thought, If, calming wayward grief, I sought To gaze on Thee too near. Yet sure ’twas not presumption, Lord, ’Twas Thine own comfortable word That made the lesson known: Of all the dearest bonds we prove, Thou countest sons and mothers’ love Most sacred, most Thine own. When wandering here a little span, Thou took’st on Thee to rescue man, Thou had’st no earthly sire: That wedded love we prize so dear, As if our heaven and home were here, It lit in Thee no fire. On no sweet sister’s faithful breast Wouldst Thou Thine aching forehead rest, On no kind brother lean: But who, O perfect filial heart, E’er did like Thee a true son’s part, Endearing, firm, serene? Thou wept’st, meek maiden, mother mild, Thou wept’st upon thy sinless Child, Thy very heart was riven: And yet, what mourning matron here Would deem thy sorrows bought too dear By all on this side Heaven? A Son that never did amiss, That never shamed His Mother’s kiss, Nor crossed her fondest prayer: E’en from the tree He deigned to bow, For her His agonised brow, Her, His sole earthly care. Ave Maria! blessèd Maid! Lily of Eden’s fragrant shade, Who can express the love That nurtured thee so pure and sweet, Making thy heart a shelter meet For Jesus’ holy dove? Ave Maria! Mother blest, To whom, caressing and caressed, Clings the eternal Child; Favoured beyond Archangels’ dream, When first on Thee with tenderest gleam Thy new-born Saviour smiled:— Ave Maria! thou whose name All but adoring love may claim, Yet may we reach thy shrine; For He, thy Son and Saviour, vows To crown all lowly lofty brows With love and joy like thine. Blessed is the womb that bare Him—blessed The bosom where His lips were pressed, But rather blessed are they Who hear His word and keep it well, The living homes where Christ shall dwell, And never pass away. St. Mark’s Day. And the contention was so sharp between them, that they departed asunder one from the other. _Acts_ xv. 30.