OF MANY MARTYRS. What tongue those joys, O Jesus! can disclose, Which for thy martyred saints thou dost prepare! Happy who in thy pains, thrice happy, those Who in thy glory share! Our faults, our sins, our miseries remove, Breviary. 463 O HOLY CROSS, on thee to hang At Jesus' side and feel the sweet, And taste aright each healing pang, What saint, what virgin martyr e'er was meet? Two only of His own found grace The very death He died to die. Joyful they rushed to thine embrace, Joyful they speed ;-but how is this? To grasp their crown of hard-won bliss? Well have ye fought; why faint in victory's hour? Two brothers' hearts were they, the first Who shone as stars in Jesus' band, For thee in prayer and fasting nursed, And bearing the dread Cross! from land to land. ST. ANDREW AND HIS CROSS. 465 And now, in wond'rous sympathy, When thou art nearer, fain to draw These who had yearned so long for thee, Shrink from thy touch, and hide their eyes for awe. He who denied he dares not scale With forward step thy holy stair. Best for his giddy heart and frail, In humblest penance to hang downward there. And he that saintly elder meek, Wont, of old time, to find and bring Brother or friend with Christ to speak, As worthier to behold the heart-searching King: Ah little brooked his lowly heart; Such glorious crown should him reward. He sought the way with duteous art, To change his Cross, yet suffer with his Lord. He sought and found; and now, where'er St. Andrew's holy cross we see, In royal banner blazoned fair, Or in dread cipher, Holiest Name of Thee, A martyred form we may discern, There bound, there preaching: Image meet Of One uplifted high, to turn And draw to Him all hearts in bondage sweet. 466 ST. ANDREW AND HIS CROSS. And as we gaze, may He impart The grace to bear what he shall send ; Yet stay the rash, self-pleasing heart, Too forward with his cross our penal woe to blend. Keble's Lyra Innocentium. Fishers of Men.* THE boats are out and the storm is high; The star of the sea shines still in the sky, The fishers are weak and the tide is strong, St. John, the beloved, sails with them too, So with tender trust the boat's brave crew He who sent them fishing is with them still, And He bids them cast their net; And He has the power their boat to fill ; So we know He will do it yet. * Roman Catholic. |