Whispering it says to each apart, “Come unto Me, thou trembling heart;” And we must hope, so sweet the tone, The precious words are all our own. Hear them, kind Saviour—hear Thy Spouse Low at Thy feet renew her vows; Thine own dear promise she would plead For us her true though fallen seed. She pleads by all Thy mercies, told Thy chosen witnesses of old, Love’s heralds sent to man forgiven, One from the Cross, and one from Heaven. This, of true penitents the chief, To the lost spirit brings relief, Lifting on high th’ adorèd Name:— “Sinners to save, Christ, Jesus came.” That, dearest of Thy bosom Friends, Into the wavering heart descends:— “What? fallen again? yet cheerful rise. Thine Intercessor never dies.” The eye of Faith, that waxes bright Each moment by thine altar’s light, Sees them e’en now: they still abide In mystery kneeling at our side: And with them every spirit blest, From realms of triumph or of rest, From Him who saw creation’s morn, Of all Thine angels eldest born, To the poor babe, who died to-day, Take part in our thanksgiving lay, Watching the tearful joy and calm, While sinners taste Thine heavenly balm. Sweet awful hour! the only sound One gentle footstep gliding round, Offering by turns on Jesus’ part The Cross to every hand and heart. Refresh us, Lord, to hold it fast; And when Thy veil is drawn at last, Let us depart where shadows cease, With words of blessing and of peace. Holy Baptism. WHERE is it mothers learn their love?— In every Church a fountain springs O’er which th’ Eternal Dove Hovers out softest wings. What sparkles in that lucid flood Is water, by gross mortals eyed: But seen by Faith, ’tis blood Out of a dear Friend’s side. A few calm words of faith and prayer, A few bright drops of holy dew, Shall work a wonder there Earth’s charmers never knew. O happy arms, where cradled lies, And ready for the Lord’s embrace, That precious sacrifice, The darling of His grace! Blest eyes, that see the smiling gleam Upon the slumbering features glow, When the life-giving stream Touches the tender brow! Or when the holy cross is signed, And the young soldier duly sworn, With true and fearless mind To serve the Virgin-born. But happiest ye, who sealed and blest Back to your arms your treasure take, With Jesus’ mark impressed To nurse for Jesus’ sake: To whom—as if in hallowed air Ye knelt before some awful shrine— His innocent gestures wear A meaning half divine: By whom Love’s daily touch is seen In strengthening form and freshening hue, In the fixed brow serene, The deep yet eager view.—