]7X\ 
 
 ■ fl A 
 
 7 
 
HoUinger Corp. 
 pH 8.5 
 
'S 1721 
 F2 fl7 
 ;opy 1 
 
 J^ 
 
 >w. ^^^ 1899 
 
 VLWILDA 
 
 K FlkST IIOI.V COMMIXIOX! 
 
 AND 
 
 A Christmas C.vroi.: 
 
 y^ 
 
 RV •rillC AlTilOK C)l" 
 
 "A BrxcH ()V Fi-()\v]:k; 
 
 CHICAC.O 
 
 KKSSr^ER BROTHERS 
 
 rriu.isiiKKs 
 
8EC0N0 COPV. 
 
 Impkimatuk 
 
 38703 
 
 ^ PATKICIUS A. FE:£)HAN, 
 
 AKCFriKITSCOIM'S CHiCAC.O. 
 
 ,0 DO«^!r A f?6CEIVeO. 
 
 ( M2Q 
 
 ;^. 
 
 L"(>i)yrijLrhUHl b.\ 
 
 KESSLEK BR0THP:R^ 
 
 Chica.uro. l>SS«t. 
 
F5 
 
 
 ALWILDA 
 
 OR 
 
 HER FIRST HOLY CO/W/WUNIOJN 
 

Ernest's Visit. 
 
 H! welcome. Friend I how sweet, that you 
 Q ~^ have come 
 
 To while away the hours this winter-nii^-ht; 
 What joy to think how we as children roamed 
 Absorbing- nature's g^lee in passinj^- time. 
 Oft, when fatig-ued, I in this chair would sit. 
 O'erpondering- our youthful pleasant g-ames, 
 My heart desired to roam with you once more. 
 But all is chang-ed! you gTew so stout and strong-, 
 And your brig-ht eyes, do make my soul rejoice. 
 
 Be seated now beside the warming- tire, 
 Else winter's icy frost our bones will shake: 
 Just listen how the storm-wind howling- blows 
 And sips the heat from out this l)urning- log-. 
 Does he not summoi to the welcome hearth 
 Each loving- soul, a leg-end them to tell? 
 The wind<)w-})anes he covers with a veil 
 Of flowers, rich in beautiful design. 
 Which cheerily reflect the rising flam.^s; 
 The trees are heard a-weeping- and they crack 
 As if they'd care no more to live their dav. 
 The storm-wind's rag-ing-fury being- spent. 
 
The cold, cold air then fills all crevices, 
 With no regard for poor or suffering- ones. 
 Let"s stir the log; the cold my blood does chill 
 And draws the blanket tisfhter 'round mv back. 
 
 ■^fe 
 
 These flames, which in their crackling- noise ascend, 
 
 And then sink back into a slumb'ring dream, 
 
 From which they start with even greater strength, 
 
 With their surroundings lend their aid 
 
 To ev'ry object, which we may behold. 
 
 And like the scenerv the drama helps, 
 
 So they assistemce give this lovely tale. 
 
 Their shadows, ah! from darkest into light, 
 
 Are necessary adjuncts, as you know. 
 
 Thus, glimm'ring" log brings visions of the past 
 
 Which, sad'ning in effect, but full of peace. 
 
 Are leaving- in their ffeeing, a desire 
 
 For the return of dear ones, gone before. 
 
 Who in their love endeared the hearth to us. 
 
 Come closer now, that we each other's life 
 Can well peruse and thus live o'er again. 
 With all the ups and downs, as rise these flames 
 And sinking coil themselves in welcome rest. 
 You Ernest! came in quest of precious love 
 Of whom I have this legend now to tell. 
 Be patient! hear me well unto the end, 
 Whilst good Alwilda helps me to relate 
 The sad ])ut happy tidings of her life. 
 
The Emerald. 
 
 ♦ I HERE is a lovel}' hill, which over all 
 
 -*- The country 'round a panoramic view 
 Commands, with ever new and chang-ing- scene, 
 So elevating- to the inner soul 
 That we in hol^^ wonderment exclaim, 
 Most surely God his beauty here impressed. 
 Refreshed by spring"-times g-reen, the stately trees 
 With lofty crowms their shadows throw 
 O'er the inviting soft and velvet lawn. 
 The silv'ry rivulet reflects so mild 
 The setting- sun's last wisli for a sweet rest, 
 And lures from park, enriched with flowered plants. 
 The happy birdling-s song^, g-ood nig-ht, g'ood nigiit! 
 All join to heighten nature's blessed joy 
 Inviting old and young to this hill-top, 
 Where they may rest on shapely rustic seat 
 And drink with pleasure ev'ning's gentle breeze. 
 Here stands the mansion Emerald we call. 
 Of gTanite built, scarce showing through the gTeen, 
 With fancy windows, gables and high peaks. 
 It's spacious rooms, well-lig'hted, welcome us 
 
s — 
 
 As Ave art' ^i^eiitly ushered tliroUi^ii tliem all. 
 The large reliectint>- mirror's i^-raiid (lisi)lay 
 Of Carpets, Furniture aud Ta])estry. 
 Depicts a scene, that calls for praise. 
 
 Here, where the ang\ds nursing- play, was born 
 Ahvilda. of all fairies the most fair. 
 
 
Alwilda's Childhood. 
 
 \ A ' HKN pleasant spring--days their appearance 
 *- ^ make, 
 
 Then from their winter's sleep awakening- 
 The trees their cheery blossoms hold to view 
 And luscious plants exert themselves in g-rowth 
 To play their proudest colors to the sun. 
 And these succeeding- with deserved success 
 Unite Rose, Lily and Forg-et-me-not 
 With myriads of others of their kin 
 In happy blending to a sweet bouquet. 
 Thus thev perfume the g-entle kissing- breeze 
 To l)ring- the feathered dwellers of the woods, 
 The happv birds, with plumag-e rich and fair 
 And song- so sweet, that we would fain desire 
 To have them while with us forever here. 
 
 But nol the welcome warm and pleasant sun. 
 
 To whom the grateful flowers raised their heads. 
 
 With a sarcastic smile sends down his rays 
 
 Of burning- heat to sip their sap of life- 
 
 Thus injured, hurt, the stricken plants bend low. 
 
 Reg-retting- life and wither in decay. 
 
10 
 
 The little bird, which with bewitching- song-. 
 Had lured us near and nearer to his perch, 
 With caution turns, as we would speak to him. 
 And mercilessly flies away from us. 
 
 Alwilda g-rew in bod^- and in mind 
 Impressing- favorably ev'ry one; 
 She practised all the noble virtues taug-ht 
 Bv her g-ood mother's word and holy life. 
 Hence she was chosen by the young- to be 
 Their central lig-ure, which they would respect. 
 Obey and love, whereas the parents all 
 In conversation loved to speak of her. 
 
 The fleety spring- into ripe summer g-rows. 
 
 And so the child its careless playg-round leaves 
 
 To g-o to school. The blood more quiet now. 
 
 The little brain is fed with mental food 
 
 F'or earthly welfare and eternal bliss. 
 
 Alwilda's talent, industry and love. 
 
 Attracted all the children close to her. 
 
 And thoug-h she never soug-ht the pleasingf praise. 
 
 When school was over, she would hurry home 
 
 And kneeling-, with her hands upon the lap 
 
 Of her g-ood mother, she would then rehite 
 
 With open eye ami placid countenance 
 
 All whatsoever had that day occurred. 
 
 She listened then attentively to all 
 
 Her mother Pereg^rina had to say 
 
11 
 
 Of vanity and pride, of beauty, wealth, 
 And even of the great and learned minds; 
 Yes, how but one thing- happiness creates: 
 To love the God, who placed us in this world 
 And who prepares a crown for future time. 
 Alwilda promised, and her promise kept, 
 That from the path of virtue and of truth 
 She'd never stray; and with a g-entle kiss 
 Arose to help her mother in her work. 
 
 
Fernando and Peregrina 
 
 ♦ I HE shilling- sun the worthy 
 -*- Wliich holv Providence h; 
 
 task fuliills, 
 I as set for him; 
 And not a tree couhl stand majestic there, 
 Nor could a })kint existence e'er enjoy, 
 Nor seed of any kind, so hopeful sown, 
 Could show a healthy growth to searching- eye. 
 Were it not for that warm encourag-ement. 
 
 'Tis true, old sol so often sullen looks. 
 And in his ang-er vexes ev'rv one; 
 When g-(^ing- into passion's g-reatest heat 
 He trickles from his hrow the droj^s of sweat 
 And forces all their shelter seek in shade. 
 
 In his g-reat fury he would ruin all, 
 Forg-etting- his own fate, if left alone; 
 Hut (lod in holv wisdom, knowing this, 
 (rave him as consort sweet and ever-g-ood 
 The ])acifving- silver-fac*''d moon. 
 Who l)oth with winning- smile and moving- tears 
 Implores for peace and harmony at home, 
 And calleth in her children, little stars, 
 
13 
 
 To show them to her king- in happy love, 
 And after this to send them to their rest. 
 
 Fernando's giant form was ev'rywhere, 
 Where helping- hand was being- sougdit, 
 And with impatience he woukl push 
 Throug-h ev'r}^ obstacle, that showed itself. 
 Such energ-y sug-g^ests the true success, 
 But also likens nature's wildest stream. 
 Which may some day break thnmgdi its 1)ank^ 
 And overflow the country far and wide. 
 Destroying' all the fruit of labors toil. 
 
 Now prudent PeregTina, unoljserxed. 
 Held anxious watch o'er him in such a mood 
 And with foreboding- fear she knelt to pray, 
 That God would help to lead her husband rig'ht. 
 
 Fernando's work was dcme and to his home 
 He turned his steps to rest from his day's work. 
 Before he reached the mansion-stair, his wife 
 Came with the lig-htest treads of love to g-reet 
 And welcome his return. With g-entle hand 
 She stroked his hair and with her mildest words 
 She opened his big- heart to her own love. 
 Fernando's noble soul in g-ratitudc 
 Preserved the mem'rv of her kindlv deed. 
 
14- 
 
 When ill the ev'niiig breeze they slowl}' strolled 
 Out in the g-arden lane, the visitors 
 Would stand a blessing- to implore. 
 Whilst in their heart thev longed their peace t« 
 share. 
 
15 
 
 The Tavern. 
 
 i 
 
 HK sweetest home is insufficient oft 
 To satisfy the pleasure-seeking- heart 
 And out into the woods and wild we roam 
 To chase with danger the uncertain g-ame. 
 We care not for the rocks and rills, nor for 
 The fallen trees and underbrush, but leap 
 O'er these in hot pursuit; and all for joy! 
 Our leg's ma}' ache, our backs be sore, our dogs 
 May bleeding- lie and g-ored: it's our delight! 
 The downy cot at home is chang-ed for lawn, 
 Exacting' meals for piece of hardened bread 
 And sparkling- water tills the place of wine; 
 For canop3' we have the clouded sk^v. 
 
 The hardships of the chase invig-orate 
 
 And blind the yearning- heart to threatening- harm. 
 
 For surely blind it is to pay a price, 
 
 Which never hare was worth in history's time, 
 
 xVnd which is trulv frec[uentlY the case. 
 
 It is a whim! The hunter has his fun 
 
 But fun which hardest W()rk for him contains; 
 
16 
 
 And when perhaps he sees the hare escape: 
 How sweet to say, he almost caii^-ht the same! 
 
 These whims, enjoyments, call them what you ma v. 
 
 Are present in some form in everyone; 
 
 And thoug-h encourag'in*^- the human heart. 
 
 Whenever rig-ht and prudently employed, 
 
 Thev will however certain ruin l)rin<>- 
 
 O'er those, wdio let them to a ])assion gTow 
 
 Now passion, like a lire, creates a draft. 
 
 Wherewith it fans itself to gTeater heat, 
 
 And leaping- seeks more fuel to attract. 
 
 The hunter has his joy with comrades g-av 
 
 Who, when they cannot hunt, will oft convene, 
 
 And, passing- 'round the flask, will tell their tales, 
 
 Or sitting- down will kill the time with cards. 
 
 But play is dry, the tong-ue needs loosening. 
 
 And so the mug- is passed around, around I 
 
 '^Phe g-ame g-rows weary, losing- all its warmth. 
 
 Wherefore a stake is set upon the same. 
 
 We've heard: from little acorns big- trees g-row. 
 
 So smallest coin takes on a g-olden hue! 
 
 At hrst tlie joy of winning- driveth on 
 
 And next reveng-e for losing- is the cause. 
 
 That with relentless zeal the play is pushed, 
 
 Ke])eating- this as time its circle turns. 
 
 From day to nig-ht and from the nig-ht to morn. 
 
 No thought is had of one another's loss 
 
17- 
 
 C)f hard-oarned cash; the husincss ^oes down 
 Because the master is too busy sure; 
 And wife and child henceforth neg^lected are, 
 For better friends, he claims, are holdino- him. 
 
 P^ernando's fate was moulded just this way, 
 And from the restful recreation sprang- 
 The passion, which soon g-enerated ill 
 And ruin 1)rought upon the entire house- 
 Down in the valley, where the mud is deep 
 A house appears, quite darkened with the time, 
 Whose uncleansed windows purposely are screened. 
 Thus making- dust and dirt more plainly seen. 
 But screened they are, like those who pull their hats 
 Deep down to hide their conscience-stricken eye; 
 Thus imitating- that long--leg-g-ed bird, 
 Of richest feather's fame, but not of wits' 
 Aside this house, if house it may be called, 
 A low unseemly pen is kept 
 Alive with constant g-runting- of a hog-. 
 Which shoves in g-reedy search its poking- snoot 
 Into the mud with g-reatest appetite; 
 Occasionallv lying" down to rest 
 Rig-ht in the centre of its meanly pool. 
 The water trough in front would make a horse 
 Show his disg-ust by wag-ging- his wise head; 
 The place is so- abhorrent, that we'd say. 
 
— 18 
 
 No self-respecting- man would tarry here. 
 
 But let us drown disg'ust and enter in: 
 
 We now behold a counter, of all polish bare 
 
 A table weather-worn, 'round which four chairs 
 
 Lie in disorder; and with nausea 
 
 We step the unwashed floor; the broken walls 
 
 Are lined with some few shelves, which serve 
 
 To bring- to mind the mem'ries of the past. 
 
 These very walls, with plaster broken spots 
 
 And other marking's, g-ive much food for thought. 
 
 The media:'val crucifix has fled 
 
 And not a vestige g-ood has here remained. 
 
 The hunters g-athering- enjo^^ed at home 
 
 Was so(m embarrassed at the kind restraint, 
 
 Which Peregfrina prudently employed 
 
 And hence recourse was had to that dark inn, 
 
 Where kind solicitude of his g-ood wife 
 
 Was sentenced to oblivion, at first 
 
 Most sparse, then g-radually more and more 
 
 Until the once so fondling- love transformed 
 
 Into the selfish instinct of the brute. 
 
 His former g-entleness was so transformed, 
 
 That Pereg-rina feared his presence much; 
 
 The open mien half-closed its once-fair eyes. 
 
 And the erect and noble frame caved in 
 
 Its mig-ht}^ chest and stooped the shoulders deep; 
 
 The strong-ly sinewed leg-s refused to bear 
 
 The body's weig-ht, and stag-g-ered to and fro, 
 
-19 
 
 Whilst for support he reaches for the air, 
 Which in revetig-e vibrates the laug-hing- nerv^es 
 Of standersb}' and then fills with contempt 
 Or pity ev'ry S3'mpathizing- heart. 
 The waves of drink, a syphon drawing- all. 
 Have drawn into the depth, whence no return, 
 Wealth and success, health, happiness and peace! 
 
 No mortal tong-ue is able to describe 
 
 The ang-uish of a woman's troubled heart 
 
 Beholding-, how the storm-clouds rising- g-ray, 
 
 Contract in blackest hue, dispelling- lig-ht 
 
 And ever ready with a roar to burst 
 
 Into a flashing- stroke their veng-eful spite. 
 
 She, Pereg-rina knew, thoug-h rich the}^ were, 
 
 That for a paltry sum a mortg-ag-e lay 
 
 Upon their stately home, a trifle once. 
 
 But now a burden, which they could not bear. 
 
 In earnest prayer bent she knelt for hours 
 
 And many were the tears she sadly wept, 
 
 But not so much for fear the home to lose; 
 
 She knew that happiness was not in wealth, 
 
 But in the hearts content and holy love; 
 
 Thoug-h humbled, she would sacrifice her all. 
 
 If only he returned to love ag-ain. 
 
 Still more, he had a soul, which she w^ould save, 
 
 For heaven's everlasting- happiness; 
 
 And so she wept and prayed and prayed and wept, 
 
—20— 
 
 That he from evil ways would soon convert. 
 
 Her lovely winning- face its color lost. 
 
 Her big- blue eyes were dimmed and red with tears. 
 
 And thus the everpleasant smiling- moon 
 
 Became a dreary wand'rer of the night. 
 
 Sore in her knees, she slowly paced the floor, 
 
 Ejaculating sorrows to the sky, 
 
 As if to force a pity for her plight. 
 
 It seemed in vain! From ruin ruin comes: 
 
 The time is past, nor can the debt be paid! 
 
 Yon clouds had burst with their accustomed crash 
 And spent their vengeance with a crushing force; 
 Fernando looked bedazed, but was too weak 
 To bear it bravely, and dejected went 
 To drown it's mem'rv in the cursed inn I 
 
 W^ 
 W. 
 
21 
 
 The Hut In the Woods. 
 
 IX years have since that fatal day elapsed, 
 Years, which with time increased the 
 sore distress 
 Of Peregrina's g-ood but bleeding- heart. 
 The misery which she did underg-o 
 In consequence of law's tig-ht-clinching- hand 
 Defies description, taking- all desire 
 Of life away; she only lived in faith, 
 That soon the end of earthly time would come 
 To open heaven's g-ates beyond the grave. 
 She sig-hed most piteously, that God would g-rant, 
 That this most hmged-for hour would soon arrive; 
 And yet she prayed and prayed for death to wait 
 Until Fernando would g-o better ways. 
 
 She swooned when carried from her pleasant home 
 
 And on this couch she lay apparent dead; 
 
 Alwilda o'er her lying* wept so much, 
 
 That we believed her youthful heart would break. 
 
 When Pereg-rina's streng-th again returned, 
 
 She thanked so earnestly for all the care, 
 
Which I was happy to bestow on her, 
 
 And rising-, with Alwihla, would have g-one. 
 
 From door to door, in search of hardened bread, 
 
 For which she'd offer work, as best she could. 
 
 Myself, as you are well aware, too poor 
 
 To keep her here and to provide for all, 
 
 I yet could not consider such a thoug-ht 
 
 Of seeing- her g-o beg-ging- o'er the land. 
 
 She finally agreed with me to stay 
 
 Until a hut I'd built some distance out. 
 
 Where she could live in peace and with her work 
 
 Provide for her support, whilst I would try 
 
 To bring- Fernando back to common sense. 
 
 It seemed to come our way. Fernando was 
 
 Now softened and remembering- his wife 
 
 And child, he brooding- stared into the world. 
 
 He startled, almost frig-htened when I spoke 
 
 But g-laddened much at the proposal made; 
 
 Himself would help to built this humble hut 
 
 Resolving- better life henceforth to lead. 
 
 No brig-hter cloud could after storm appear, 
 
 Nor could a consolation more console. 
 
 Than by this news our lady was rejoiced. 
 
 The followmorn with axe and saw and square 
 
 We went a distance out into the woods; 
 
 Thoug-h sad, there never was a sweeter work, 
 
 Than when with all our might we felled the trees. 
 
 Which cut to equal leng-th we straig'htway laid 
 
-23- 
 
 In form of square securing" end to end. 
 
 And piling- them on all sides in their turn 
 
 Till to the roof, which we with shing-les laid; 
 
 The windows, rather low, were six in all, 
 
 Three in the front, and in the rear wall three ; 
 
 Two rooms, one larg-e, one small, the house contained. 
 
 The oaken bedstead, which stood at the wall, 
 
 The rounded table and three common chairs 
 
 Tog-ether with an ancient cooking- stove 
 
 And a few dishes had been left to them. 
 
 All was prepared, so Pereg-rina left 
 
 With heartfelt thanks for what my duty was; 
 
 She felt so happy now, that I was forced 
 
 To turn away and hide m}* pressing- tears, 
 
 Whilst praying- God fore'er to be with them ! 
 
 Not many dayg had passed before I saw 
 
 Fernando in a gloomy mood g'o home; 
 
 His wife somehow all day dejected felt 
 
 But knew it not to be presentiment. 
 
 P^ernando took a seat upon a stone 
 
 And br(_)oding- brooded ever more, and this 
 
 Made Pereg-rina fear and worry much; 
 
 She beg-ged and cried for him to chang-e his mood. 
 
 But no! instead, he answered with a snarl. 
 
 A crucifix, the one my mother pressed 
 Up<m her lips, when God did call her soul, 
 
And whicli I prized above all other yifts 
 
 As her last proof of love, I loaned to her 
 
 Upon her pleading- tears; may it console 
 
 Her future, as it helped her in the past. 
 
 Before this holy cross she kneeling- prayed, 
 
 That God in mercy would debar all harm; 
 
 She pra^'ed for him who nearest stood to her, 
 
 And offered her own child as sacrifice. 
 
 She felt composed and streng-thened after this; 
 
 Whereas Fernando hardened in his sin 
 
 By daily visits to that robber's den, 
 
 Which broug-ht such misery upon his head 
 
 And where the scanty earning-s of his wife 
 
 Were rushing- down the throat in draughts of drink, 
 
 Thus new and harder trials o'er her came 
 
 And thoug-h they broug-ht a flow of bitter tears, 
 
 Still, Pereg-rina bore them patiently 
 
 And felt assured, that all would 3'et end well. 
 
 Alwilda, seeing- mother's great distress, 
 
 Endeavored anxiously to g-ive relief 
 
 By word and deed and ev'ry proof of love; 
 
 And when the child felt g-loomy, she was seen 
 
 To g-ain new strength by crossing- her g-ood breasi 
 
 And driving- e\il powers far away. 
 
 And then she smiled the sweetest ang-el's smile. 
 
 For sweeter lips you never could have seen. 
 
1 
 
 Alwilda's Dream. 
 
 HE days of trial fled, like those of joy, 
 And sad and dreary, as they ever were, 
 They still were brig-ht, because of inner strength 
 Imparted by the g-raceful hand of God. 
 Like precious g-old, which must be purifled 
 In fire's most fiercely burning- blaze and heat, 
 Or else it's quality would ne'er appear; 
 vSo too, hard suffering's for men will mould 
 The perfect qualities for g-reatness true. 
 Nor can a man be g-reat without the same. 
 Ag-ain, it's easy to be virtuous, 
 So long- our nature's flattered doing- g-ood. 
 But what, amid most dire adversity. 
 When not a ray of hope can be observed 
 Kxcept in trust and confidence in God ? 
 Therefore the saints their life in suff'ring- spent 
 And martyrs by the milliim bear their palm, 
 AH giving- testimony to our Lord, 
 Who drag'g-ed his heavy cross to Calvary. 
 "In meekness hidden lieth perfect streng-th 
 
-26- 
 
 And throu<^h the week tlie strong- confounded are/'| 
 
 As the apostle of the Gentiles says. 
 
 Our Savaour by his death upon the cross 
 
 Overcame his enemies, world, satan, sin, 
 
 And with his poor apostles, only tw^elv^e, 
 
 He raised the entire sunken universe. 
 
 We find, not only in the moral world 
 
 This less(m taug-ht, that crowns must well be earned 
 
 And earned by test of hardest trials too. 
 
 The veg-etable king-dom even g-ives 
 
 Abundant proof to us of this same fact; 
 
 The cutting- and transplanting- of the plant 
 
 And all the treatment which it must receive. 
 
 Insure the sturdy g-rowth in svmmetrv; 
 
 But left alone and sure a dwarf appears 
 
 In wildness stretching- armlike oer the g-round. 
 
 Now God knows best, and as we e'er behold, 
 
 That in probatiims He His saints does trv 
 
 And throug-h the j^rophet's word revealed. 
 
 That He chastises whomsoever He loves. 
 
 So we can understand why pious souls, 
 
 Thoug-h innocent, must suffer e'er so much; 
 
 And if the trial spring-s from nature's course, 
 
 Then God will g-rant new blessing-s to the soul 
 
 And cause a brig-hter crown prepared for her. 
 
 Provided, she will bear all patiently; 
 
 So was it from beg-inning- of the world. 
 
 So will it be until the close of time. 
 
When Peregrina reig-ned in peaceful wealth. 
 She numbered friends by many scores; 
 We daily see the same without surprise, 
 But, says the German proverb, well and true : 
 "Distress around, Friends, hundred to a pound;" 
 Or, as the poet. Goldsmith, puts it well: 
 
 And what is Friendship, but a name, 
 A charm that lulls to sleep, 
 A shade that follows wealth or fame 
 And leaves the wretch to weep. 
 
 Yea, all these countless friends their color changed 
 
 And turned, I dare say, to so many hends, 
 
 "To kick," the saying- goes, "the dog that's down;" 
 
 The one proclaimed, we see it plainly now. 
 
 Not all that glitters is of solid gold; 
 
 Another knew, from private source, the wealth 
 
 Fernando sadly lost had been ill-gained; 
 
 Ag-ain: it's Peregrina's boasting- pride 
 
 And her own secret sins, that ruin wroug-ht. 
 
 It was the gossip at the teas, the talk 
 
 At ev'r}^ corner in the town, and when 
 
 On Sundays from the house of God they'd come 
 
 You'd notice them their dirty tales exchange, 
 
 And winking, squinting-, speaking extra loud 
 
 To make it hurt and cut the woman's heart, — 
 
 But she with dear Alwilda hurried home. 
 
 No sooner had they reached their lonely hut. 
 When Peregrina sank upon the couch, 
 
—28- 
 
 No long-cr able to hold back her tears, 
 
 As if her litful sig-hs would bring- relief. 
 
 She g-ladly would have suffered all alone, 
 
 But that her darling- chikl should feel it too 
 
 Was more than her maternal heart could l)earjl 
 
 Alwilda witnessing- her g-reat distress 
 
 Knelt down before her, pleaded, wept and beg-g-ed 
 
 Her to forg-et it all and be consoled, 
 
 As she an ang-el-messag-e would ccmiide: 
 
 It was a dream, but one that God had sent. 
 
 The mother woke as startled by a touch. 
 
 And with a sorrowful, but smiling- look 
 
 Embraced her child and lig-htlv kissed 
 
 The forehead of her sweet dear little (me; 
 
 She bade her then proceed. 
 
 Alwilda said: 
 ''When we had left the rich and pleasant home 
 And you were lying- in a swoon, like dead, 
 I threw myself upon you in my g-rief 
 And prayed and prayed; I thoug-ht my heart would 
 
 break. 
 I fell asleep and music, oh! so sweet! 
 Then came unto my ears; at once there shone 
 A brig-htness, which became e'er brig-hter still. 
 I felt so happy, but too weak to lift 
 My head and look; A g-entle hand then touched 
 And raised me up, and there! my Ang-el stood 
 
29- 
 
 Before me; — oh! how beautiful he was! 
 I see him yet! — I raised by hands and prayed 
 And beg-g-ed him kindly let me go with him. 
 The ang-el pointed then to you and said: 
 Not yet! and with this all had disappeared. 
 
 Another dream I had; it was the nig-ht 
 
 When father, sitting- on a stone, was sad; 
 
 You knelt to pray and rose so full of peace. 
 
 My heart was heayy and I prayed so hard, 
 
 That my g-ood ang-el would g-ive joy to you. 
 
 I fell asleep; ag-ain the music came 
 
 Anrd so the brig-htness and the ang-el too. 
 
 I raised my hands and prayed for father dear, 
 
 That he would henceforth leave his wicked ways. 
 
 The ang-el spoke so sweet, and smiling- said, 
 
 That on a certain day he would convert, 
 
 And with a blessing- left me in my sleep." 
 
 Alwilda having- linishcd sank in thougdit. 
 
 As if an ang-el's secret she betrayed, 
 
 But soon felt satisfied, as she beheld 
 
 Her mother well, consoled, (o'erpondering- 
 
 Each word she heard from g-ood Alwilda's lips.) 
 
30 
 
 The Village Priest. 
 
 ' 16 ROSPKRITY has always had distastes.; 
 Whilst comforts season the adversities 
 And consolations crown the g-reatest g-riefs. 
 Oft g-uests most pleasantly invited are . ' 
 
 'Thoug-h really their absence is desired; 
 And then ag-ain, it g-reat relief bestows 
 To tell to friends the sorrows of one's heart, 
 Thus making- sympathy help bear the same. 
 Saint Paul, by word and deed this lesson taug-ht, 
 That he g-rew warm when others vexed were. 
 And since his day the zealous priests of God 
 Have had their s^mipathy for ev'ryone. 
 Instinctively the faithful find their friend — 
 The one they loving-ly their Father name, 
 Because a father's heart is g-iven him 
 By God, who for his people thus provides. 
 That bended reed may not be broken off. 
 'Tis true the father sometimes stern must be, 
 But when repentance shows, he kind forg-ives 
 And helps to raise the deeply humbled soul. 
 
-31 
 
 When Pereg-rina heard the darling's dream 
 
 She pondered much, but all seemed mystery. 
 
 And so she went fo Father Coelestine, 
 
 For by this name the yillag^e priest was known, 
 
 And opened up her anguished heart to him; 
 
 It was, indeed, the wisest thing to do! 
 
 The priest, so venerable in his ways, 
 
 With all the charity, that grace bestows. 
 
 And humble meekness, and affection true 
 
 Was well deserving" of her confidence. 
 
 His life-long- study of the human soul, 
 
 Assisted b}^ a rich experience 
 
 Of many years with ev'ry class of men; 
 
 Ag-ain, the very of&ce he doth fill. 
 
 Insuring him God's g-racc to counsel rig-ht 
 
 The haunted, troubled or doubt-stricken soul, 
 
 Must naturally bring the sore-distressed, 
 
 Appealing, to his welcome cottage door. 
 
 And this the more, as the infused faith 
 
 Is followed b}' the reverential awe 
 
 With noble trust in God's self-chosen priest. 
 
 There never was a people in the world, 
 
 Who do not testify to this known fact, 
 
 And all the ages of the universe 
 
 Show plainly the respect and trust in him. 
 
 They say in peril we will learn to pray, 
 
 And likewise the unwilling will yet g-o 
 
 To him who after all is their best friend. 
 
32— 
 
 When Peregrina rang- the tiny bell 
 
 She greeted with the blessed Christian's call 
 
 Of 'Praised be Jesus Christ ' and humbly bowed 
 
 Her head for blessing- from the saintly man. 
 
 She scanned with reyerence his features well, 
 
 His noble brow and his keen friendly eye, 
 
 And then in, modesty cast down her look. 
 
 In humble spirit she unfurled to him 
 
 Her whole life's history, that he mig-ht judg-e. 
 
 And then bring- lig-ht and consolation too 
 
 Into her suffering- and stricken heart. 
 
 She blushed, however, when she had to speak 
 
 Of her Fernando, lowering- her yoice; 
 
 But what she came for was the dream itself, 
 
 Which like a m3'Stery o"erclouding- hung-, 
 
 Whose deep intent she could not understand. 
 
 Now Father Coelestine had listened well 
 
 And more than once his eyes had hlled with tears, 
 
 But drying- them he moved his lips in pray'r. 
 
 As slowly she before him spread the dream. 
 
 He beamed with radiant joy and kindly said: 
 
 Dear Soul! be strong- and comforted, for sure 
 
 Our (xod has shown g-reat mercy to your soul. 
 
 And your own husband will return to g-race 
 
 And with this holy blessing- will return. 
 
 I must not tell you more, for so God wills. 
 
 Hut come whene'er your heart depressed feels 
 
-33- 
 
 Tliat 1 may cheer and help to comfort it. 
 Alwilda, lovely Maiden! with delig-ht 
 I noticed her and all lier virtues true. 
 And oh! how oft I wished to question her 
 About you and to bring- you to this place. 
 I feared however temptation thus to cause, 
 For from a singde thoug"ht there cometh pride. 
 Which like a worm destro^'s the lucious plant. 
 Now God has brougdit you here, hence be assured 
 Of his g-ood g-race; and bravel}^ all accept. 
 Which in his Providence he ma}^ impose; 
 Your crown will all the brig-hter be, and ah! 
 How happ}^ if I could exchang-e with you. 
 But pray, as I am feeble, bend and old, 
 That God his mere}- may bestow on me; 
 Receive my blessing-, 'tis our Saviours own, 
 T'will g-ive you streng-th and comfort and g-ood 
 peace. 
 
 And bidding- her to follow, showed the way 
 
 Throug-h his apartments and the library. 
 
 And there displayed his books of deepest thoug-ht 
 
 In ev'ry Held of lit'rature and art. 
 
 With g-entle touch the pag-es turning- o'er 
 
 And having- some sweet words at ev'ry turn. 
 
 But whilst at illustration's grand effect 
 
 He waxed excited in entliusiasm. 
 
 His voice jjfrew mellow and his heart dissolved 
 
J4— 
 
 In love's peculiar feeling-, when he reached 
 
 For "Martyrs Acts," in which recorded were 
 
 What these had suffered for their faith 
 
 And for which they enjoy eternal bliss. 
 
 Of some he spoke more passingly, but dwelt 
 
 Upon the mother of the Machabees 
 
 At leng-th, explaining how her seven boys 
 
 From oldest down to youngest martyred were; 
 
 And when this youngest, only seven years 
 
 Of age, his death for Jesus was to meet, 
 
 The mother far from trying to dissuade. 
 
 Exhorted him to persevere and think 
 
 Of that reward, which was awaiting him. 
 
 Ah! Peregrina was so happ}' now 
 
 And wished herself a martyr saint to be; 
 
 She thanked sincere!}" Father Coelestine 
 
 For all the consolation she received 
 
 And hurried home. Alwilda seeing- her 
 
 Ran out to meet her in her lovely way. 
 
 It was a night of true coelestial joy, 
 
 When Peregrina told her daughter all 
 
 She saw and what the priest of martyr's said, 
 
 And then concluded giving thanks to God. 
 
-35 
 
 The Village School. 
 
 F all the g-ifts with which man is endowed, 
 There's none so g-reat as mind and intellect, 
 With w^hich God crowned him as creation's Lord, 
 That every creature would his servant be. 
 God, infinitely holy, just and true. 
 Had necessarily this one intent. 
 That man to his ideas would conform, 
 And hence an imag-e and a likeness too 
 To his own self he had created him. 
 He pressed the imprint of his g-odly love 
 And of his wisdom, deep on Adam's mind. 
 For which he asked but <me obedience. 
 And show^ed and drew attention to the fact. 
 That blessing-, peace and happiness must come 
 Where he's the t)nl3^ object of man's strife ; 
 And that of all the punishments, this one 
 The g-reatest is, to know the good and bad. 
 Which kuowledg-e satan strong-ly advertised, 
 As his idea of a promised deity. 
 We know that Eve and Adam foolishly 
 Believed the serpent's mean deceitful word 
 
—36- 
 
 And as result they learned then to discern 
 Between the two extremes ; but knowledg-e mear 
 To choose the bad in ev'rj instance then. 
 Because by disobeying- God, they went 
 To follow satan, who, you will admit, 
 Could not, and if he wanted, holy be. 
 Nor of his subjects sanctity permit. 
 
 Thus man had fallen from God's holy grace 
 
 Into the devil's piercing-, clinching- prong-s, 
 
 From which there was no possible escape 
 
 Except that God delivered us from him. 
 
 God in his boundless mercy did redeem 
 
 Us from the enemy's malicious hold; 
 
 But still the greatest gift, which God bestowed 
 
 On man, to know but good alone, is lost 
 
 And costs the very life-blood to regain, 
 
 For only in God's heaven will it be 
 
 That of all evil we'll be ignorant. 
 
 Yea more! the evil we will easy learn 
 
 Without a teacher, whilst obedience 
 
 To God is difficult to comprehend. 
 
 Although the teachers are so numerous 
 
 And in ability rank 'way on top. 
 
 There is the conscience, God's loud-speaking voice 
 
 Then the comandments written on a stone; 
 
 There are the patriarchs, the prophets too, 
 
 And Jesus with his holy messengers; 
 
—37— 
 
 he church which he established firm and true, 
 V^hich teaches constantly and never tires, 
 Lssisting- even with the sacraments; 
 
 hen illustrations of all kinds are shown 
 >y all the saints, true servants of the Lord; 
 I'ow add to these the visitations all 
 V^herewith our Father, God! instructeth us: 
 Lnd, could you say: 'tis easy to be g-ood ? 
 
 Jut who is g-ood ? This question Jesus placed 
 Lnd answering- himself he said : none is g-ood 
 Except my Father who in heaven is ! 
 Ve know his definition to be true, 
 i^or absolutely taken Gods the source 
 'Vom which all g-ood it's orig-in must take ; 
 t's for the g'ood, that we created are 
 Lnd to obtain the perfect g-ood we live ; 
 Ul passing- thing-s must serve no other end 
 Vnd perfect wisdom is herein contained, 
 Because all happiness is rooted here 
 Phe wise man sa3's, that all is vanity 
 ^nd trouble of the spirit, save God's love, 
 ^or this alone forever happy makes. 
 
 Nhen God had made the world, he saw a need 
 )f teaching- man the use of lang-uag-e too, 
 But by the parents children must be taug-ht, 
 ^nd ev'ry child it's mother understands. 
 
38- 
 
 The human race, a sing-le family, 
 
 Enjoins on men comming-led to become, 
 
 And as with ag-e the people multiplied. 
 
 The teaching-s of the mothers varied much: 
 
 But when, to punish, God confused their tonuiiu 
 
 At Babylon's great show of human pride. 
 
 Then came necessit}^ the schools to build 
 
 In which to learn to speak in such a way 
 
 That everybody could his thoug-hts impart 
 
 And, he to whom imparted, understand. 
 
 It is apparent how with marking^s small 
 
 Man, when he could not speak, would mark h 
 
 thoug-hts, 
 Whence picture-writing- was in daily use 
 Until it was replaced by simpler form. 
 Now with the words and writing- down of san: 
 The hg-ures went the same progressive way. 
 Thoug-hts g-enerated thoug-hts, and we posess 
 The fruit of study of all ag-es past; 
 This is the way how science came to be 
 Developed from man's own necessity-. 
 In ev ry branch of learning- this is true, 
 As true it is in ev'ry sing-le art; 
 What ornaments the singde branches have. 
 They are but outg-rowths of convenience. 
 Now, wM)uld we never loose this out of sig-ht. 
 We'd never fail to know to serve our God. 
 As science cannot hold bevond the i>rave: 
 
-^9- 
 
 50 relatively taken, all is g-ood, 
 3ut absolutely, only love of God. 
 
 Look at it as me may, we are compelled 
 
 To take recourse to learning-, if we want 
 
 To i>-ain the joys, which God prepared for us ; 
 
 And as by his decree, eternal bliss 
 
 Must be acquired whilst here on earth we stay, 
 
 Which very stay on earth demands our care. 
 
 And study lessens and reduces this. 
 
 Therefore we all have g-one to school and go. 
 
 But of the schools however grand they be 
 
 Not one can satisfy, unless it tirst 
 
 And chiefly teaches us the will of God. 
 
 It matters not how grand the building- is. 
 
 Nor if it's name is heralded abroad ; 
 
 If only it does truly do its work 
 
 To educate the heart and then the mind. 
 
 You, Ernest, still remember the oak tree, 
 
 The oldest in the place, Tound which we roamed 
 
 And on whose branches oft we sat and sang* 
 
 Or in whose shade we rolling- much enjo3'ed ; 
 
 How often lying- (m our backs we looked 
 
 And listened to the merr}^ birdlings' song'. 
 
 It still holds sway and overshadows well 
 
 The old frame school-house, where we used to sit 
 
 And vex the teacher with our youthful pranks^ 
 
■40- 
 
 We meant no harm and soon made up for it 
 
 By being- g-ood and carrying- the coal. 
 
 It comes to me so often, when at three 
 
 The teacher left to g-et a bite to eat 
 
 Whilst we in hung-er had to wait till four: 
 
 Lest we be noisy during- his stay out, 
 
 He made you monitor to watch o'er us. 
 
 Our friendship then was g-reat, as g-reat as now 
 
 And wishing- me to please, you asked me soft, 
 
 If I would haye a certain boy g-et whipped. 
 
 I was surprised, but nodded with my head ; 
 
 And when the teacher came you him informed 
 
 To use the stick, but thoug-h you pointed well 
 
 My own bad conscience made him turn to me. 
 
 With frig-htened heart you rig-htened his mistake 
 
 Which after all was rig-ht by God's decree. 
 
 The same old building- you would recog-nize l' 
 
 With its one spacious room and well worn floor,!i 
 
 The ancient benches haying- several cuts j 
 
 And names to tell that others followed us. 
 
 The wood is just as hard as once it was, 
 
 Thoug-h smoothened more by rubbing- to and fro ; 
 
 The hard stone blackboards still are found in place 
 
 With newer scratches scratched and holes worked in 
 
 With such a work as makes the boy feel g-reat. 
 
 It's all the same to-day ; the teacher too 
 
 Has his old ways and only with his ag-e 
 
 His patience did not keep a lively pace. 
 
41- 
 
 Vnd yet we loved him then and thank him now 
 
 \.s it was better that he was severe. 
 
 But boys are boys, it makes me often laug"h, 
 
 low we would cheat the non-suspecting- man 
 
 lowever, you'll ag-ree, that thanks we owe 
 
 lim for the interest he took in us. 
 
 riie losing- of their home was very hard, 
 
 because instead of g-ranting- S3^mpath3' 
 
 rhe people wrong-ly judg-ed the stricken ones; 
 
 ^^ow, that Alwilda should be somewhat spared 
 
 5he for some time remained from school, 
 
 Sut when she started she g^ave ample proof, 
 
 rhat all her time was g-iven to her books, 
 
 A.nd with the best she ably held her own. 
 
 rhis made the children jealous and at once 
 
 The evil spirit g"ot the upper hand 
 
 Di even those, who always pious were. 
 
 Por peace, Alwilda had to sit alone 
 
 And on the playgTound none would play with her, 
 
 Whilst in small knots they'd stand and talk of her. 
 
 You are surprised, that she was left to g-o 
 
 To school amid such circumstances hard ; 
 
 Nor would it have occured, if she had said 
 
 A sing-le word of how they treated her ; 
 
— 42- 
 
 But no, she prayed coniidiiig- all to God 
 And offered it for her dear Fathers' soul ; 
 Moreover, is was her communion year 
 And suffering- helps to prepare for g-race. 
 
 #^ 
 
43- 
 
 The Village Church. 
 
 ^ OD has, as we have seen, instructed us 
 
 Throug-h many means, althoug-h the 
 truth's but one; 
 But when his Only Son from heaven came 
 To teach us all, what we must know and do. 
 In order to be saved, he summoned twelve. 
 Whom he apostles called and authorized. 
 To teach in his owm stead the saving- Faith. 
 He g-ave them all the powers, which he had, 
 And which were necessary for the soul's 
 True happiness in this and the next world. 
 He ordered them to preach and to baptize 
 And the baptized to strengthen in their faith. 
 And sins forg-ive or even to retain; 
 He asked them to remember his sad death 
 By chang-ing- bread and wine into himself, 
 And wanted ev'ryime to eat his Flesh 
 And drink his Bh)od, for which he promised life; 
 Providing- for conditions, that arise. 
 He g-ave us Extreme Unction, Orders too, 
 And Matrimony for respective ones. 
 
—44- 
 
 He placed Saint Peter over all the rest, 
 
 Which others had disciples under them, 
 
 Assisting- in the guidance of the flock. 
 
 This flock is called the church, with which our Lord 
 
 Has promised to remain unto the end. 
 
 Rooms soon were needed, and in Christ's own dayj 
 
 We read of Supper in the Dining-Hall, 
 
 And of the Hall in which thej g-athered were 
 
 When Jesus send the Paraclete to them. 
 
 Hence nothing could have been more natural, 
 
 Than that a house they'd built, where God wouldt 
 
 dwell, 
 And no expense was e'er considered much, 
 Which went towards adorning such a home. 
 Nor was it like in time of Salomon, 
 Who built, though g-rand it was, but one such house, 
 For ev'ry land and ev'ry ag-e since then 
 Display the noble Temples of our God; 
 And God is g-rateful for this hearty proof 
 Of filial obedience and love, 
 He blesses here on earth the giving- hand. 
 Whilst in the other world he crowns his saints. 
 
 Not only for God's honor must it be. 
 
 That temples in palatial style are raised, 
 
 As man's own weakness has great need of them. 
 
 Our Saviour said: My joy's to live with men. 
 
■45- 
 
 And in a stable near old Bethelem 
 Was born, who had not where to lay his head; 
 The Mag-i came, three wealthy- eastern king's, 
 And on that stable's floor knelt down to pray: 
 We'd do it too! how often it w^ould be. 
 Need not be asked, the answer being- plain. 
 
 Imbued with all these worthy sentiments 
 From earliest childhood. Father Coelestine 
 Endeavored with all efforts to adorn 
 The House of God, as would, considering- 
 Man's inabilities, become our Lord- 
 
 The people with harmonious accord 
 
 Desired instinctively the very same, 
 
 But when it came to bring- a sacrifice. 
 
 Then few were left, who faithful stood b}" him. 
 
 He toiled and worked and has succeeded well. 
 
 But no one would surmise, how difficult 
 
 And with what suffering's he pushed ahead. 
 
 The very ones, who could hav^e helped the most, 
 
 Among- the first to want the work well done, 
 
 Were nowhere to be found, except it was 
 
 To criticize the w^ork in all details; 
 
 Now, like the Jews, who treated Jesus mean. 
 
 Declared that by the prince of devils he 
 
 The devil drove from the possessed one; 
 
 So too of impure motives they accused 
 
46- 
 
 The good and zealous Father Coelestine. 
 Undaunted, he overcame each obstacle, 
 Conliding- in the streng'th from God above, 
 And now 3'ou can behold an edilice 
 In which the people trul}' love to stay, 
 Whilst Jesus in their midst loves to remain. 
 Inviting- all, who heavy burdened are. 
 To be refreshed at this his fount of love. 
 
 T'was here, where Pereg-rina loved to rest 
 And open up her heart to our sweet Lord; 
 With kindest love her look did dwell 
 Upon the tabernacle's g-ilded door, 
 Behind which, she our Saviour knew to be 
 In mercy list'ning- to her humble pray'r. 
 From tabernacle she her eyes did turn 
 To Mary's blessed shrine and then towards 
 St. Joseph, Foster-Father of the child. 
 And kindest helper of all troubled ones. 
 She never left without her peaceful mien 
 Betraying^, that she was consoled by God, 
 And when she had returned to her lone hut, 
 She thankfully instilled her love of God 
 Into Alwilda's g-ood and docile heart. 
 
 ^^f^ 
 
The Instructions. 
 
 \ A / ITH greatest joy Alwilda loved to hear 
 ^ ■ The church-bells ring- and call the faith- 
 
 ful all 
 To come and pay their homag-e to their God. 
 Enamored with the choir, but still, absorbed 
 In conversation with our Savior dear. 
 With whom to speak the time seemed much too 
 
 short, 
 She knelt with bended head and folded hands, 
 A picture more of ang-el, than of maid. 
 So edifying, that for once at last, 
 The judg-ing- neigdibors found no fault with her. 
 
 Her love of Jesus ev'ry day increased. 
 As she prepared for Love's great sacrament, 
 In which the son of man would come to her 
 And she receive our Lord, as God and man. 
 Most eag-erly she hurried to the church 
 The last instructions to receive, and oh I 
 How burning a desire had lilled her breast, 
 Increasing hourly as the time approached. 
 
-48- 
 
 She counted, counted lirst the many days 
 
 And then the hours, which seemed their time t 
 
 stretch, 
 But when the last instruction day had come, 
 You would have thoug-ht it was the day itself 
 For which so anxiously she prayed and sig-hed. 
 
 Her mother knew not, should she let her g-o. 
 Because she learned of her child's sulfering-s. 
 And still more on account of want of food, 
 As since the yester's dinner there was none. 
 Could mother send her child a distance off 
 Without a supper and a breakfast too ? 
 She'd g-o to Father Coelestine and there 
 Explain and surely he would let her pass 
 Althoug'h the last instruction she had missed. 
 But when Alwilda heard of this, she cried 
 And cried until her mother g-ave consent. 
 Assuring- her, that God would g-ran ther streng-th 
 Moved, blessing- her dear child, she left her g-o, 
 And then Alwilda ran, no ! fairly flew 
 As if by ang-els she was carried on. 
 She reached the church just as the g-ood old pries 
 The steps ascended and God's g-race implored 
 To lind the words wherewith he'd fascinate 
 And fill the children's hearts with humble love. 
 As love alone can worthily meet love ; 
 Then, having- said her prayer, she sat down 
 
-49- 
 
 Vnd listened most attentivel}^ her g-aze 
 (3n Father Coelestine's steadfastly fixed, 
 t seemed as if she fairly drank his words, 
 Absorbing all their spirit and intent. 
 The pious children and the good old priest 
 >)uld scarce refrain from constant watching- her, 
 A.lthoug-h their own souls filled up to the brim 
 With love, desire and kindest g-ratitude 
 For their sweet Saviour, who would come to them. 
 
 Now Father Coelestine, a learned man, 
 
 Was Master of the rhetoricians' art, 
 
 Besides he knew full well the human soul 
 
 And was possessed of g-reatest warmth in love. 
 
 He never rose so hig-h above himself 
 
 As when for First Communion he'd prepare 
 
 The youthful hearts with meditations g-rand. 
 
 Most certainly, it was the g-race of God 
 
 Which ev'ry word of his effective made. 
 
 But this time more than ever he was raised, 
 
 Undoubtedly by special g-race, and moved 
 
 To tears from the beg-inning- to the end. 
 
 He ev'ry effort made to picture well 
 
 The birth and life and passion of our Lord, 
 
 And pleaded strong-ly with o'erpow'ring plea, 
 
 That Joseph, passing- Beth'lem's inns, would choose 
 
 To enter in their hearts and there prepare 
 
 A happy birth-place for the Virg-in-child, 
 
—50- 
 
 That thej should promise, never to disturb 
 The mother's tender care for her sweet-babe, 
 And that for Jesus they'd prepare a crib 
 Of g-entle love, wherein he'd g-ladlj rest. 
 
 His tender words, and g-reat emotion had 
 
 The much desired effect and grasped 
 
 The hearts of all his faithful listeners. 
 
 But when he spoke of Gods own mother dear, 
 
 He paused at once and motionlessly stood. 
 
 With eyes and hands toward Alwilda turned; 
 
 The children too were looking- fixed at her. 
 
 No wonder! her love rose to such deg-ree, 
 
 That in brig-ht beams the beauty of the soul 
 
 Showed throug-h the mortal body, white as snow; 
 
 And rising- in the air some sev'ral feet. 
 
 She seemed to kneel on clouds of brig-htest light. 
 
 The priest, no doubt inspired, walked down to he 
 
 And whispered soft: Alwilda — pray for me. 
 
 At once returned, — she blushed and worried mucl 
 
 As she had done, when, her two dreams she told 
 
 And feared an angel's secret was betrayed. 
 
 Instructions over. Father Coelestine 
 
 Gave out the word, that none should question her 
 
 And she herself confided it to none. 
 
 Now out into the streets and far and wide 
 
 The news like lightning quickly had been spread: 
 
-51- 
 
 A saint! a saint! was heard on ev'ry band 
 And in the hearts the resolution formed 
 To see the saint the coming- holyday. 
 
 
-52- 
 
 The Happiest Day 
 IS 
 
 •1 
 
 HE ev'iiing- sun in brightest garment set 
 And quiet took possession of the town; 
 The revellers for once remained at home 
 Most anxiously inquiring of what they 
 Had heard and which engaged the minds of all, 
 What at the last instruction had occured. 
 Fernando brought the news to his good wife, 
 Who doubted and kept doubting of the truth 
 Because Alwilda had not mentioned it. 
 Far from the thought, that it could be her child. 
 She still would not reproach and hence dela^-ed 
 To place the question to her daughter dear; 
 But yet! discard it as she may, it came 
 K er back to her till she could scarcely wait 
 For break of dawn, when surely it would out. 
 
 She felt so happy, when Alwilda came. 
 Because God helped her to a goodly price. 
 For a rich dress, which she had brought with her, 
 But which she never wore since that sad day 
 When she was driven out from house and home. 
 It entered not her mind, that the proceeds 
 
-53— 
 
 Mig-ht soon be g"one, but trusting- in her God 
 Prepared a meal, the like the}^ did not have, 
 Since in the lonely hut they entered in. 
 
 The day is come and with the break of lig-ht 
 
 From far surrounding- country people flocked 
 
 With fleety feet and vehicles so fleet 
 
 As if an all-depending- race they ran. 
 
 They headed for the Villag-e-Church, whose bells 
 
 Rang- out their festive lay in g-lad appeal 
 
 For all to come and worship here their Lord. 
 
 The children, g-athered in the Villag-e-School, 
 Were dressed by dexterous hands with wreath and 
 
 veil, 
 And g-ood Alwilda was so much rejoiced. 
 Because enabled to refund the same. 
 The priest, surprised, yet did not dare to ask: 
 Whence came the blessing-? whence she came to 
 
 this? 
 But in his heart had offered thanks to God 
 And wondered at his mercy, love and care. 
 
 The priest in surplice and biretta came, 
 
 Preceded by the Cross and Altar-Boys, 
 
 Who on this festive day their best had dressed, — 
 
 To lead the way and bring- as offering- 
 
 His children g-ood before the Holy Lord. 
 
—54 — 
 
 The people stood, some on the street, some climbedj 
 
 The trees and fences for a better view, I 
 
 And when the children came the necks were craned] 
 
 And ejes were eag-er scanning- ev'ryone, 
 
 At last in spite of veil and bended head 
 
 Alwilda's sainted face was recog-nized; 
 
 A stir went throug-h the crowd, a whisper heard! 
 
 Alwilda blushed and quickly sig-ned herself: 
 
 A ray of light flashed from her holy brow. 
 
 But all absorbed she was disturbed no more. 
 
 The children in the church, the people too! 
 
 The house of God was filled as ne'er before. 
 
 It was a joy to see how sing-le soul 
 
 A thousand bring-s before the throne of God, 
 
 Whom often no consideration moves 
 
 To pay their tribute to the Mig-hty One. 
 
 The song and music, far from frivolous. 
 
 Was this time pious, humble, soul-inspiring too; 
 
 And Father Coelestine had oft to pause, 
 
 His soul enwrapt in contemplating- God, 
 
 And when his last address he humbly held, 
 
 No eye was dry and hardened sinners wept. 
 
 Save one who restless moved in non-control 
 
 When the good priest had asked the ehildren all 
 
 To not forget their parents in their pray"r 
 
 When Jesus, their sweet God, shall come to them. 
 
—55— 
 
 'he holy sacrifice was offered so 
 .s ever it should be by God's command 
 .nd as Almig:hty God does well deserve, 
 ;ut which we often grow forg-etful of, 
 hus treating- careless this God-given work. 
 
 Phe children seem quite pale and weak and sick, ^ 
 
 slot from the lengthened fast, but from their love s 
 
 ntensity and burning of desire, 
 
 3ut are refreshed as Altar boys now ring: 
 
 rhe time has come, when Jesus comes to them. 
 
 A.nd slowly two by two, with downcast eyes, 
 
 Their hands so lightly folded, now they go, 
 
 Escorted by the whole celestial court. 
 
 And genuflect so humbly and ascend 
 
 The Altar steps, where lovingly they wait. 
 
 More humble still than e'er before, the priest 
 
 With Jesus in his hand to show to all 
 
 His "Dominus non sum dignus" thrice repeats, 
 
 To which 'O Lord I am not worthy' they 
 
 Most humbly, as becoming answer give. 
 
 Then promising eternal life to them 
 
 He modestly lays Jesus on their tongue. 
 
 That they shall henceforth be 'another Christ.' 
 
 The children were so happy, angel-like. 
 As they returned, that all were edified 
 And envied them their truly godly bliss. 
 
—56— 
 
 Alwilda was the last one to receive 
 And ev'ry eye was firmly fixed on her; 
 Herself, she knew but Jesus all alone 
 And in her heart she left none other in. 
 
 She wore an Angel's smile in stepping- down 
 
 But was so pale, that people whispered low, 
 
 And made a stir to go assisting- her, 
 
 When, near the lowest step, she paused and knelt^ 
 
 And bowing- somewhat prayed most earnestly. 
 
 A halo now appeared of dusky lig-ht 
 
 But g-radually brig-htened more and more 
 
 Until it was so bright, as bright can be; 
 
 And as the brightness brightened she was seen 
 
 To sink down lower, — lower then she dropped! 
 
 Her spotless soul to God above had flown. 
 
 The faithful held their breath, the priest went on 
 
 The sacrifice to end; again a stir, 
 
 A thought and pray'r of sympathy, when now 
 
 Sad Peregrina to the Altar fled 
 
 And with the gentlest care Alwilda raised 
 
 And, in her arms embrace, her carried home. 
 
 No tongue can tell the sorrow of her heart. 
 
 And yet, she was consoled; Alwilda came 
 
 In spirit back, her blessing to bestow. 
 
 As she was carried b}^ the people pray'd, 
 
 A blessing to receive and gently touched 
 
-57- 
 
 he holy relic of Alwilda s corpse; 
 at! suddenly they turned and looked around 
 o see the one, who here could sighing- be 
 here all gave praise and thanks to God. 
 ernando never knew it was his child 
 ntil as corpse his wife her carried by, 
 nd then endeavoring to follow her 
 3uld not succeed, though thrice he did attempt, 
 e made his peace with God and most contrite 
 e humbly to the priest his sins confessed, 
 nd since that day, ne'er better man there was. 
 
-58- 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 * I JEAR Ernest, be not saddened o'er hi 
 (3-4_>/ death, 
 
 Whose hand and heart you came so far to woe; 
 Think not, that God has tried Alwilda hard, 
 For happier lot could never have been her's. 
 Nor brig-hter crov^n be placed upon her head! 
 
 She is a martyr! offering- her life 
 For the salvation of her father's soul. 
 When she her dreams to Pereg-rina told, 
 She told not all, and fearing- that she did. 
 She worried, lest a secret she betrayed; 
 When she had pray'd and her good Angel said 
 The day of his conversion would yet come, 
 He asked her first to bring a sacrifice 
 And she at once had begged to give her life. 
 Accepting which the Angel said: Amen! 
 
 You never could have loved her any more 
 Than her dear sainted mother always did. 
 And now loves more, and yet she'd be the last 
 
—59- 
 
 call her back from her eternal bliss, 
 
 r could Alwilda make her happier, 
 
 ihe'd return; for all's entirely chang-ed 
 
 d they are blessed and honored more 
 
 an in the days g-one by they ever were; 
 
 d thoug-h 'twas sad, they with bold letters wrote; 
 
 is was the day which God in mercy made! 
 
 d hence with joy we praise his holy name, 
 
 lo called Alwilda to his happy home 
 
 d broug-ht Fernando back to peace and love, 
 
 d shedding- blessing on the lowly hut; 
 
 lerefore g-ood Pereg-rina gratefully 
 
 e praises sings of that Communion Day. 
 
A CHRISTMAS CAROL, 
 
-63 — 
 
 Christmas Eve. 
 
 AVE all the children g-otie to bed, 
 And are they fast asleep? 
 Then see, that you will make no noise, 
 And on your toes now creep; 
 Yea! whisper only when you speak 
 And lose no time at all, 
 For very late it g-rew to be, 
 Ere they to sleep did fall. 
 
 BWng- here the painted wooden stand, 
 Which rails and posts surround, 
 Whilst I will g-et the mig-hty tree, 
 So nice and full around; 
 I'll taper now its solid stem 
 And wedg-e it in the hole: 
 Ah! what a pleasure and delight 
 They'll have, upon my soul! 
 
-64- 
 
 Come, hang- the Angel 'way on top, 
 
 His Gloria we will sing*, 
 
 That he may grant to us the peace 
 
 Of Christ, the new-born King; 
 
 Hang here and there a tapering nut, 
 
 Quite dazzling bright and ga.y, 
 
 And sometimes bunch them in a group, 
 
 And turn them more this way. 
 
 Suspend some apples in between. 
 
 You know the children's taste. 
 
 Besides the yellow, green and red 
 
 Will take the eye with haste; 
 
 To sweeten more the pleasant sight. 
 
 The finest candy bring. 
 
 Of various colors and of shapes. 
 
 That fetch the laughter's ring. 
 
 Bring on the many fancy cakes 
 
 Of Brownie's comic style, 
 
 Whereas the ornaments of tin 
 
 I will attach the while; 
 
 Then wind the branches all around 
 
 With fringe of golden hue, 
 
 And sometimes mix some silver in 
 
 With green and pink and blue. 
 
-65- 
 
 The candles stand a distance off, 
 
 And bring- the isin-g-lass, 
 
 Hang- many pieces all around, 
 
 To mirror candles'-mass; 
 
 Below you put the clown and bear. 
 
 The cub and lioness. 
 
 Some sheep and also shepherd dogs 
 
 And thing-s I cannot g-uess. 
 
 A monkey with his turning- pole, 
 A comic music box, 
 A mule with rug-g-ed rope for tail 
 And that fierce-looking- ox; — 
 Then over here you put the g-un. 
 Tin soldiers with their swords, 
 A locomotive and a throng- 
 Of children's festive sports. 
 
 The sled and skates are here in place 
 
 Aside a cabinet box 
 
 With hatchet, saw and rule and squar> 
 
 And many building- blocks. 
 
 The newest clothes pile very high, 
 
 Whereever there is room; 
 
 And place a washtub near to them 
 
 And next to this a broom; 
 
—66- 
 
 A kitchen with its tiny stove, 
 
 And many dishes too, 
 
 For little children take delig-ht 
 
 In finding- work to do; 
 
 But for their recreation g-ive 
 
 Them dolls in g-ayest dress 
 
 And little baby carriag-es, 
 
 And they'll not cease to bless. 
 
 Stop g-rumbling"! for the bill you've made 
 
 Is more than overpaid, 
 
 In g-rateful feeling-s of the young- 
 
 In life, both soon and late; 
 
 Moreover, when you're old you'll love 
 
 To see the very same. 
 
 For your own joy and comfort too; 
 
 So do not, pray! complain. 
 
 Take oif your shoes and sneak up stairs, 
 
 And softh' 'waken them, 
 
 Then sing- to them the happy hymn 
 
 Which Ang-els sang- for them; 
 
 And tell them how g-ood Santa Claus 
 
 Had been so kind to all. 
 
 That down the chimney he had come, 
 
 But went out throug-li the hall. 
 
-67— 
 
 And when he on the threshhold stood, 
 
 Before he hurried home, 
 
 He said, that of their sweets the}' should 
 
 Give to the poorer some. 
 
 He lig-htly jumped into his sleig-h, 
 
 The sack upon his back, 
 
 And blowed so strong- into his horn 
 
 And g-ave the deers a whack. 
 
 So bring- them hither to the tree, 
 
 The candles are all lit, 
 
 And let them look at everything- 
 
 And taste of every bit. 
 
 Whilst we from out their open eyes 
 
 Their happy feeling's read, 
 
 Receiving- thus their g-rateful love. 
 
 The truest Christmas treat. 
 
 ^W^ 
 "W^ 
 
•68— 
 
 Christmas Morning. 
 
 3 
 
 HKAR the bells' sweet ring-ing-, 
 There's music in the air; 
 They peal so sweet and lofty, 
 They ring- so clear and fair; 
 And far into the darkness 
 Unto the greeting light, 
 They call the wandering- pilg-rim 
 To come to church this night. 
 
 The ground has dressed its whitest, 
 The virgin snow, untrod, 
 And from an azure heaven 
 The stars already shot. 
 Continuing their shooting- 
 To show their happy joy, 
 Whilst atmosphere surrounds us,. 
 As spirits would enjoy. 
 
-69- 
 
 From out a peaceful slumber 
 Arises all mankind, 
 And 'mid a whispering- stillness 
 Men shroud their peaceful mind. 
 The fathers and the mothers 
 And children g-ood and sweet, 
 Are making- ready quickly 
 Their holy Love to g-reet. 
 
 The animals are astirring 
 And feel so fresh and g3.y, 
 As if they had a knowledg-e 
 Of this g-reat nig-ht and day, 
 With silvery bells atinkling. 
 They lig-htly trod the ground. 
 And, with their measured stepping-. 
 Create a pleasant sound. 
 
 The bells have rung- their pealing-, 
 And chimes have followed then. 
 And hearts are with them rhyming-. 
 In mountain home or glen, 
 Devoutest g-reeting- Anthems 
 For him, who dwells on hig-h, 
 Who deigned to come among us 
 To be to us so nig-h. 
 
Ah! how the org-an swelleth. 
 
 So proud in happy g"lee, 
 
 To tell the chant of Angels 
 
 In sweetest harmony: 
 
 Oh! Gloria in excelsis 
 
 To God, to God it be! 
 
 And peace to men of g-ood-will, 
 
 So happ}^ and so free! 
 
 Oh! Gloria in excelsis, 
 To God, who pitied us, 
 To men of grateful feelings, 
 Who ever love him thus; 
 Oh! Gloria in excelsis. 
 To God becoming man, 
 To all his peace is promised. 
 If they but to him ran! 
 
 And in a little manger 
 
 There lieth a sweet child. 
 
 In swaddling clothes enwrapped, 
 
 It looks so sweet and mild; 
 
 Its eyes bespeak affection. 
 
 It begs us to come near. 
 
 And in its earnest pleading 
 
 It seems to shed a tear. 
 
—Ji- 
 lts little lips encourag-e, 
 As if they beg a kiss, 
 And in return their breathing- 
 Will then bestow a bliss; 
 Its little arms so loving- 
 Extend to call us nig-h, 
 In love they would embrace us, 
 That heart to heart may sig-h. 
 
 And oh! what g-lad rejoicing- 
 Would fill that loving- heart, 
 If, to each other cling-ing-. 
 We never more would part. — 
 Behind it kneels the mother. 
 In piety so mild. 
 With mother's joy and feeling- 
 Upon her new-born child. 
 
 And yet! she holds it pleading-, 
 That we it should embrace. 
 And g-rant to her the kindness 
 To kiss its lovely face; 
 Yea, more! she beg-s in earnest. 
 That we would ever g-rant, 
 To hold it in our memory, 
 As we would in our hand. 
 
But ah! she weeps and sadness 
 O'er shades her noble brow, 
 Foreseeing- in her spirit, 
 How we to hatred bow. — 
 A man stands there uncovered 
 In deepest prayer staid, 
 His eyes rest on the baby, 
 There in the mang-er laidf 
 
 So eloquent a silence, • = 
 As his, was never seen; 
 Oh! that we could declare it. 
 Here has our model been. — ■ 
 On either side apeeping-, 
 There is an ox and ass. 
 Who, in their simple feeling-, 
 Love here their time to pass: 
 
 For oh! this sweetest baby. 
 Whom would it not have broug-ht, 
 When even holy king-s have 
 Its humble crib besoug-ht! 
 They knelt down in this stable, 
 Upon the naked floor. 
 Whilst we, oh we! too noble! 
 Remain but at the door. 
 
Tlie shepherds too! but of these, 
 It surel}^ was but right, 
 But why are we not like them. 
 To feel like them arig-ht? — 
 This child, this child! who is it? 
 Who else, but our great God? 
 Who on the cross will suffer, 
 And once decide our lot. 
 
 When on the da}- of judgement 
 He'll come with splendor bright, 
 Yea, brighter far than ever 
 Has brightness been this night, 
 When heaven's gates flew open 
 And Angels did appear 
 And gave their happy tidings 
 And told them not to fear; 
 
 The}' sang so sweet, that ages 
 Have never tired to sing. 
 The song, that brought rejoicings 
 And blessings e'er will bring. 
 
 Gloria in excelsis. 
 
 Let the Anthem sound, 
 
 In excelsis Deo 
 
 From hill to valley bound! 
 
—74- 
 
 Gloria in excelsis, 
 
 To our new-born king-, 
 
 In excelsis Deo, 
 
 All the nations sing-! 
 
 Gloria in excelsis, 
 To the Virgin Queen, 
 In excelsis Deo, 
 Who her child has been! 
 
 Gloria in excelsis, 
 To St. Joseph too; 
 In excelsis Deo, 
 Best of serv^ants true! 
 
 Gloria in excelsis, 
 To the ang-el throng-; 
 In excelsis Deo, 
 Roll the song- along-! 
 
 Gloria in excelsis. 
 To the young- and old; 
 In excelsis Deo, 
 As by ang-els told! 
 
 Pax hominibus. 
 Men of sterling- worth; 
 Bonae voluntatis, 
 Over all the earth! 
 
So may a merry Christmas 
 Come to one and all; 
 We love its sweetest echo, 
 Rebounding- from the stall. 
 
 No greater joy could ever 
 Be granted bj^ our Lord, 
 Than he has g-ranted to us. 
 When Flesh was made the Word. 
 
 Hence, Glory in the Hig-hest, 
 To our new-born King, 
 To our sweetest Baby 
 Let the Anthem Ring! 
 
 
76 
 
 Christmas Day, 
 
 1HE people are athrong-ing-, 
 Prom out the temple's door, 
 Where the}' had been adoring- 
 Bend low on clean-washed floor; 
 Abounding- with all g-races, 
 Which God so kind bestowed, 
 They proved the Ang-el's wishes, 
 Which from his lips had flowed 
 
 In strains so elevating-, 
 So sweet and lovely too, 
 Of Glory to our Saviour 
 And Peace to all men true; 
 And from this peace is leaping-, 
 With all o er bounding- haste. 
 That love, which binds tog-ether. 
 And which all nations praised. 
 
77 
 
 Hence hand the hand is taking-, 
 
 And lip to lip descends, 
 
 As with a 'Merry Christmas" 
 
 The one to other bends; 
 
 Then little cups are giving- 
 
 Such happy Christmas joys, 
 
 For Grand Pa and Grand Mother, 
 
 And for the girls and boys. 
 
 But who can tell the pleasure 
 Which parents this day have? 
 As they enjoy so sweetly 
 To see their young- ones laug-h. 
 Now in their overflowing- 
 With wishes and with love. 
 They would have sheer forg-otteii 
 To mind the kitchen stove. 
 
 This patiently was waiting- 
 To be of service too, 
 Since if the stomach 's empty, 
 Enjoyments are but few; 
 The mother therefore hurries 
 And rakes the fire well, 
 To add the pleasant flavor 
 Of bracing- kitchen-smell. 
 
78- 
 
 She exits to the pantry 
 
 And bring-s a mig-hty goose, 
 
 Which she had long- been fattening- 
 
 And fretted much to lose; 
 
 The g-oose had g-rown so heavy, 
 
 Yes, even after death! 
 
 That all her streng-th v^as needed 
 
 To fetch it in, they said. 
 
 Still, she was very lucky. 
 And did not leave it fall. 
 And pushed it in the oven, 
 And seemed so proud and tall. 
 She poured some water to it, 
 So it would not be burned. 
 Then mixed the finest gravy. 
 As she had 'specially learned. 
 
 She mashed potatoes quickly, 
 And made the apple-sauce, 
 Then spread with cloth the table 
 And pulled it straigth with force, 
 The dishes placed in order, 
 And silver forks and knives 
 She said, the best is wanted . 
 This day by all housewifes. 
 
—79— 
 
 When all was done, she sig-nalled, 
 And each one took his chair; 
 The father lirst in order, 
 Then boys and maidens fair. 
 Down to the little youngster. 
 Who could not bide his time. 
 Till he wds helped to cutling-s 
 And pounded forth a chime. 
 
 And when at last a little 
 Was put upon his plate. 
 It tasted, oh! so sweetly, 
 He could no long-er wait. 
 Until some more was g"iven 
 He licked his spoon the while; 
 But soon his wait was over 
 And he besran to smile. 
 
 They all enjoyed it richly. 
 
 The quiet father said; 
 
 It was the best he tasted. 
 
 Such taste he never met! 
 
 With lig-htest heart the mother 
 
 Rid off the table quick. 
 
 And broug-ht the blessed pudding-, 
 
 Which looked so very slick; 
 
Next pies of mellow apples, 
 
 And cakes of every kind 
 
 With nuts and fruits and candies 
 
 And thing-s I cannot mind. 
 
 Ah! they had sure a dinner. 
 
 They will not soon forg-et! 
 
 Their cheeks were swollen g-reatly 
 
 Their eyes were very red. 
 
 Now after this the coffee, 
 So sweet and hot was broug^ht, 
 Which all enjoyed in quaffing- 
 And then a rest besoug-ht. 
 Devoutly saying- Graces, 
 They left the table g-lad. 
 But still a trifle heavy. 
 Perhaps a little sad. 
 
 They knew not just the wherefore, 
 But we with sober mind 
 Remember, that the stomach, 
 When filled the heart does bind; 
 More quiet than expected. 
 Perhaps in rest and sleep. 
 The afternoon was spending- 
 And nig-ht came on a creep. 
 
—81 — 
 
 The supper was a lig-ht one 
 And so the evening- came 
 With far a better feeling- 
 And worthy of the name, 
 Because the family g-athered 
 Around the fireside. 
 In circle as they called it, 
 Whose half was not in siofht. 
 
 Once more admitting- freely 
 
 The goose was ver}^ good, 
 
 They claimed, they still were tasting 
 
 This richest of all food. 
 
 Yet one thing gave rejoicing, 
 
 And sure it was the goose! 
 
 As they remembered Martha„ 
 
 Of whom they had got news: 
 
 That she was old and feeble. 
 And could not go outdoor,. 
 Nor could she send for g-oodi'es, 
 As she was much too poor; 
 So they brought her a portion, 
 And brought it with good will,^ 
 And begged her to enjoy it. 
 Together with its fill. 
 
—82— 
 
 So now they studied over 
 How g-lad she must have been, 
 When, without expectation, 
 They had come on the scene; 
 This made them very happy, 
 K'en when the day had fled. 
 That they resolved in future 
 Poor never to forget. 
 
 Ml/A 
 
-83— 
 
 Christmas Might. 
 
 Of 
 4 I HE evening- was so quiet, 
 
 -L The Air a g-entle breeze, 
 
 But streets were all vacated; 
 
 Thev were much like the fleece 
 
 Of cotton, when in blossom, 
 
 As o'er the little place 
 
 The moon was slow ascending- 
 
 With always brig-hter face. 
 
 The trees threw living- shadows, 
 More spectre-like than e'er, 
 And all tog-ether quiet 
 The nig-ht was everywhere, 
 But such a lovely heaven 
 Was long- ag-ain unseen. 
 Since stars so brig-ht were shining-, 
 The like had seldom been. 
 
84- 
 
 Occasionally footsteps 
 Resounded cracking- snow; — 
 As if of one in hurry, 
 With spirits rather low, 
 Because his wife was lying- 
 On sickness' hardened bed. 
 And he still hoped the doctor 
 Would stop her early death. 
 
 Perhaps it was with g'ladness, 
 He trod the covered earth 
 With happy speculation 
 Upon the offspring- s worth. 
 Ag-ain there comes a footstep,. 
 Irreg-ular and stiff, 
 Which sounds, as if it's going- 
 Toward a dang-erous cliff; • 
 
 For clearly it reboundeth 
 At sig-ht of every tree, 
 From every moving- shadow. 
 From every thing-, that be; 
 The moon feels sore offended 
 And draws her face to frown. 
 And shakes her head momentous. 
 As she is looking- down. 
 
The earth next loses balance 
 And seems to leave its hold, 
 And trees are leaning- forward, 
 So daring- and so bold, 
 That this poor pilg-rim loseth 
 The presence of his mind, 
 And cannot bear it long-er, 
 Nor can he foothold find! 
 
 Despairing-, he outreaches 
 To catch a fence nearby. 
 When even this recedeth 
 And from him seems to fly; 
 A big- tree seemed aleaning- 
 Toward him for an aid, 
 But as he wished to gTasp it, 
 It would no long-er wait. 
 
 Then perfectly discourag-ed, 
 
 He made a mig-hty jump, 
 
 But missed the wished- for-object 
 
 And falls all in a lump; 
 
 He tried and tried to g-et up 
 
 And rolled upon his back, 
 
 His hands and feet were upward, 
 
 A shapeless bundled sack; 
 
—86— 
 
 His eyes were rolling- wildly, 
 In Tremens' horrid proof, 
 When ah! the bells were tinkling- 
 And came the sound of hoof. 
 The children in their weeping-, 
 The mother in her tears! 
 They stopped the brisky horses 
 And broug-ht some carrying- biers; 
 
 Then, having- rolled him on them. 
 They shoved him in the sleig-h, 
 And cut the horses sharply 
 And hurried on their way. — 
 Another footstep lig-hty, 
 Has passed the kitchen door. 
 The father heard it faintly 
 And quickly paced the floor. 
 
 He reached the window timely 
 
 To see a youth pass by, 
 
 Whose hat was down his forehead; 
 
 He hurried on a fly, 
 
 And yet he soug-ht the shadows. 
 
 Avoiding every light, 
 
 Until he seemed to vanish 
 
 Into the darkened night. 
 
—87— 
 
 But ah! his soul much darker 
 This Holy Nig-ht knew not, 
 And what a sad affliction 
 Awaiteth him from God, 
 Who from his little manger 
 Has followed him with eyes, 
 First pleading-, then in ang-er 
 For living- in such -wise! 
 
 Then offering- a prayer. 
 
 That none may come to grief. 
 
 The father left the window 
 
 And felt a great relief. 
 
 To see the family circle, 
 
 So happy and so gay, 
 
 With peace upon their foreheads 
 
 And fairylike a fay. 
 
 The children kindl}^ begged him 
 
 To tell a story nice, 
 
 As he had oftened promised. 
 
 But left it in that wise; 
 
 This time, it being Christmas, 
 
 He would not put them off, 
 
 And waited but their asking, 
 
 As he held them in love. 
 
 e^^ 
 
—88- 
 
 Then bring-ing- in a heavy log-. 
 
 He put it on the lire. 
 
 And drew his chair a little near, 
 
 And asked them not to tire, 
 
 For it would take a little while 
 
 Before he would be throug-h 
 
 With what he was to tell them now 
 
 A stor}' good and true. 
 
 When man had fallen from his (xod, 
 
 God's mercy did not fly. 
 
 But promised him a Saviour then, 
 
 If good to be he VI try; 
 
 And man}' years had passed away 
 
 Before the Saviour came, 
 
 Who was the one desired by all 
 
 And Jesus was his name. 
 
 You've heard of his most g-lorious birth, 
 Though in a stable 'twas, 
 Whose Ang-els told it to the worjd, 
 Whose Star had guided us; 
 And when this Jesus gTew in years. 
 He thoug-ht all how to live. 
 If they would care the g-reat reward 
 Of Heaven to receive. 
 
-89 
 
 But many, who had heard him speak, 
 And saw his g-odly deeds, 
 Refused in malice to believe 
 And followed passion's heats, 
 They falsel}^ persecuted him, 
 Yes, nailed him to the cross, 
 But having- risen from the dead, 
 He suffered hence no loss. 
 
 Yea, rather in this very way. 
 
 He saved us from that death. 
 
 From which to save us he had come 
 
 And spent his every breath! 
 
 Now from that moment it was plain, 
 
 There is one only way. 
 
 Which leads to heaven's bliss above, 
 
 'Tis by the cross, they say! 
 
 And so the followers of Christ 
 Have all had much to bear. 
 So much indeed, that it would make 
 All fill with utmost fear. 
 Were it not for the simple fact. 
 That heaven's worth it all. 
 And that our God will never try. 
 To make us really fall; 
 
90 
 
 For he will grant enormous g-race, 
 
 Supporting- us with mig-ht, 
 
 And hence we find the saints so g-lad, 
 
 A model for our sig-ht; 
 
 Besides, if we ne'er overlook, 
 
 That life must pass away, 
 
 And far beyond this world we look,. 
 
 We'd wish with saints to stay. 
 
 'Thoug-h hard and harder the}' are tried:,, 
 
 With suffering-s unkind. 
 
 It is just in this very way. 
 
 They greater gflory find! 
 
 The story which I now relate. 
 
 Is sad enoug-h to thrill 
 
 The souls of even hardened one's^ 
 
 And eyes with tears to fill. 
 
 And yet, when all I shall have said,. 
 I know you'll g^ladly say, 
 If only you could be with them. 
 Of whom I speak to-day. 
 
91- 
 
 The days of Rome, the Empire great, 
 Were quickly closing- down, 
 As it no long-er boasted of 
 Its Generals with renown, 
 Save now and then a lonely star, 
 Whose lig-ht would so<m die out. 
 Since death with most unsparing- hand. 
 Prepares for each a shroud. 
 
 But whilst such hero would yet live, 
 
 We easily perceive. 
 
 He'd hold esteem within his g-rasp 
 
 And honored love receive. 
 
 Just such a one our hero was. 
 
 Called Placidus by name. 
 
 Who by his friendliness as well. 
 
 Deserved his bravery's fame. 
 
 For all his stalward soldiers said: 
 
 'A Father! truly he, 
 
 'And kinder General ne'er had been, 
 
 'Nor could there ever be!' 
 
 Like all the Generals of old. 
 
 He very rich had g-rown. 
 
 And many were the Slaves he held, 
 
 And Stock and Land he'd own. 
 
—92- 
 
 Ktijoying- life, as all would do, 
 Who boast of wealth and friends, 
 He often had his feast-day-outs 
 And soug-ht the deer in rents; 
 And so he chanced one day to see 
 A precious specimen, 
 And in persuit he charged his steed, 
 Behind him all his men. 
 
 Soon over brush and over log-s. 
 
 That covered thick the g-round. 
 
 The steed of purest blood had flown, 
 
 And further onward bound. 
 
 The followers soon lacked behind, 
 
 Nor could the}' understand 
 
 That charger's swiftest passing- on 
 
 As if on mag-ic wand. 
 
 When far into the deepest wood, 
 Where all was still as death. 
 The deer had turned and faced him, 
 From whom it so far fled. 
 Immediately a cross appeared 
 Between its Antlers g-reat, 
 A cross of brig-htest g-olden hue, 
 And then a voice had said: 
 
-93- 
 
 'Wliy persecutest, Placidus, 
 
 Thou me, who loved thee so?' 
 
 And thereupon our General asked, 
 
 'Ah! where bidst thou me g-o?' 
 
 I know not all, that passed between, 
 
 The General and our Lord, 
 
 But this I know, that he was now. 
 
 Converted by God's word. 
 
 For three long- days the wood was searched. 
 
 But search was all in vain, 
 
 Despairing- then of finding him. 
 
 They came, a saddened train; 
 
 But quietly himself had come, 
 
 A different man was he. 
 
 And greeting- his dear loving- wife, 
 
 He showed, what life should be. 
 
 Explaining all that he had seen, 
 
 And what he had been told. 
 
 Inducing her to go with him 
 
 Into Faith's happy fold. 
 
 The pope himself instructed them 
 
 With illustrations grand. 
 
 And showed them, that to suffer here. 
 
 Meant gaining Heaven s land; 
 
—94— 
 
 He told them what great happiness 
 Was held for them in store, 
 But that it also would be hard, 
 What they must bear before. 
 Prophetic were the words he spoke. 
 But then a warrior old 
 Minds not the crosses of the road. 
 Nor lurking- dang-er's hold. 
 
 With joy, with joy they were baptized 
 
 And with them their two boys; 
 
 The g-laddest joys came o er the church, 
 
 And God increased these joys. 
 
 God's holy consolations have 
 
 At all times g-iven streng-th 
 
 To every resolution g-ood 
 
 And for duration's leng-th; 
 
 And hence the days of Placidus- 
 Were piously bespent 
 At home or in the Catacombs, 
 Where every nig-ht he went 
 With Theopista, his g-ood wife. 
 And with his children all, 
 Called Ag-apitus, older boy, 
 And Theopistus, small. 
 
-95- 
 
 My kitig-dom is not of this world, 
 Says Christ our Lord and King-; 
 And hence you cannot here expect 
 To hear but angels sing-. 
 Another world, it is above, 
 Alone can g-rant reward. 
 But this reward must here be earned, 
 Thoug-h it be e'er so hard. 
 
 Not long, not long was joy to rule 
 
 Our hero's noble heart, 
 
 For soon affliction came o'er him 
 
 And stinging was its smart. 
 
 A fearful hail-storm o'er his crops 
 
 Destroyed what he had raised, 
 
 But he had learned to bear it well. 
 
 And hence God's name he praised; 
 
 Then sickness decimated swift 
 And carried off his stock. 
 But also this he bravely bore 
 And bore without a shock. 
 But when the people had surmised, 
 Because he kept aloof. 
 From all the pagan services. 
 And this was surely proof! — 
 
-96 
 
 That lie must be a christian now, 
 Then he bethoug^ht himself, 
 Concluding- to depart from Rome 
 Unto some distant delve. 
 Say not, that he a coward was, 
 Who thoug-ht of his g-ood wife 
 And of his little children dear. 
 So young- yet in their life. 
 
 Then selling- what to him remained, 
 
 It was so very wee. 
 
 He set out for far Nubia, 
 
 More quiet rest to see. 
 
 In g"oing- he a river met, 
 
 Which flowed so wild and strong-, 
 
 That he then barg-ained for a boat 
 
 To carry them along- 
 
 To any nearest landing- place. 
 And his g-ood price he paid; 
 But when the ship was turned in 
 The harbor's landing- g-ate, 
 The captain held on to the wife 
 And asked for heavy fee 
 Of ransom ere he'd let her g-o; 
 Demanding- g-reater fee 
 
-97- 
 
 Than Placidus could ever pay, 
 
 Who beg-g^ed and pleaded so; 
 
 But all, alas! was of no use. 
 
 As he was made to g-o. 
 
 The real reason for this deed 
 
 Was wicked sinful lust, 
 
 And hence our hero felt it worse 
 
 And yet in God heM trust! 
 
 Now Theopista prayed and wept, 
 
 And God had heard her too! 
 
 For soon the captain was convinced, 
 
 She'd die! ere be untrue 
 
 To him, whom God had given her, 
 
 And who so kind had been; 
 
 Now that, she even was baptized. 
 
 Ah! no, she'd never sin! 
 
 But Placidus his name had changed 
 In baptism to Eustace, 
 And so we must from henceforth put 
 Him in his christian place. 
 Now having- offered all to God 
 He travelled with his boys 
 Far over hills and deserts wild 
 To give them better joys. 
 
—98 — 
 
 Ag-ain a stream, but not a boat 
 
 To carry tliem across, 
 
 Nor could he venture both to take 
 
 Without a fear of loss. 
 
 He placed the one upon the g-round. 
 
 The other in his arm; 
 
 And plied with mig-hty force the stream. 
 
 Which broug-ht him so much harm. 
 
 Scarce had he reached the farther shore, 
 
 When suddenly a cr}^ 
 
 Had come from over yonder there 
 
 And wolves were running- b}^ 
 
 The little boy was carried off 
 
 Far into distant wood, 
 
 And Eustace hurried after them 
 
 When lo! asfhast he stood: 
 
 For ah ! a lion took with ease 
 
 The other in his mouth. 
 
 And hurried with him far away. 
 
 Whilst Eustace shrieked aloud. 
 
 When hardened warriors start to weep 
 
 Then talk of suffering- pain! 
 
 Such was the case rig-ht in this wild. 
 
 Where Eustace cried in vain; 
 
-99- 
 
 But, overcoming- all his grief, 
 
 He saw, the hand of God 
 
 Had send all this for his own g-ood. 
 
 And hence he'd bear his lot; 
 
 Yes like a perfect christian would, 
 
 A soldier of our Lord, 
 
 Who knows, that he in heaven will 
 
 Find all of his own sort. 
 
 However with a serious turn 
 This school of suffering bore 
 Upon his mind a dreariness, 
 ^Thoug-h peace it left in store. 
 He wandered on, of all bereft, 
 And took a laboring- job, 
 Upon a farmer's rich estate, — 
 This veritable Job! 
 
 Ah! often was his spirit low. 
 And often he did weep. 
 As memories of by-g-one times 
 Would o'er his bosom creep. 
 How earnest was his pleading then, 
 Whose very frame would shake, 
 That heaven should restore to him 
 For what in sleep he'd wake. 
 
-100- 
 
 'Yes, God is good, he often said, 
 
 'Ag-aiti he showed his love, 
 
 'He spread a vision for my eyes, 
 
 'A vision from above: 
 
 'In it I met my saintly v^^ife, 
 
 'My holy children too, 
 
 'And then a voice had told to me: 
 
 'This all will once be true. 
 
 Ag-ain 'I saw us brought before 
 
 'The pag-an Emperor, 
 
 'Our lives to offer to our God, 
 
 'And so reach heaven's door. 
 
 Then fifteen years he toiled and worked, 
 
 And wished for that great day. 
 
 When once again his eyes should see 
 
 His wife and children gay. 
 
 The Romans were engaged in war 
 And things were much adverse. 
 And rightly Trajan was afraid. 
 That matters would grow worse; 
 He therefore cared to have the man. 
 Who previously had fought 
 His battles with successful hand,, 
 And laurels home had brought. 
 
101 
 
 A grand reward he promised those, 
 
 Who'd bring- this General back; 
 
 And hence they soug-ht throug-h all the land, 
 
 Till they would find his track. 
 
 Two faithful soldiers met him then, 
 
 But recog-nized him not 
 
 Till having- told their mission and 
 
 Inspired by voice of God 
 
 He showed the scar upon his head 
 
 And asked them, who he was, 
 
 When sure they wept, as children would 
 
 To meet their General thus. 
 
 He laid aside his farming- tools 
 
 And followed them to Rome, 
 
 Where he was placed in hig-h command 
 
 In his once g-lorious home. 
 
 Not many weeks had then elapsed 
 
 Before his work was done. 
 
 He drove the enem^^ from the field 
 
 Back in disordered run. 
 
 His heart was big- with kindest love, 
 
 And 'father' was his name. 
 
 As him the soldiers all would call, 
 
 Respecting- much the same. 
 
-102 
 
 Yet, who can help, that similars 
 Will feel attached and drawn, 
 Which is but nature's g-oodly work, 
 That like to like is borne. 
 Of all the soldiers there were two 
 Both 3^oung- and strong- and brave, 
 So humble too, that Placidus 
 Them kind attention g-ave. 
 
 They were attached, as friends in needy 
 
 And bound themselves by vow. 
 
 To help each other at all times 
 
 In peace or battle row. 
 
 The Roman army planted tents 
 
 To rest a day or so, 
 
 Kre with g-reat joy it would return 
 
 And back to Rome would sco. 
 
 But these two heroes left the camp 
 To have a quiet chat. 
 And were no doubt dejected much. 
 You ask, but what of that? 
 The older asked the young-er one. 
 What pressed his heart so much? 
 And this one told the simple tale. 
 That any one would touch: 
 
-Iu3- 
 
 How he was raised by peasants g"Ood, 
 Who saved him from a beast, 
 But could not find his famil}^, 
 That they could so be pleased, 
 Yea more, as sure he noble was, 
 As his necklace would show, 
 And hence he often tempted was 
 To seek both hig-h and low; 
 
 But not a rising- hope has sprung- 
 
 To g-rant him his request. 
 
 Wherefore he joined the arm}^ then. 
 
 Believing- death is best. 
 
 And now the elder wiped his tears 
 
 And looked the locket o'er. 
 
 Then hung- around the 3^ounger's neck 
 
 And wept so much the more; 
 
 He saw his mother's picture there 
 And found his brother too. 
 Then told him how himself had been 
 Rescued by sheperds true 
 Prom out a lion's fearful mouth. 
 Whilst the}' were on a chase; 
 They cared for him in charit}' 
 Until he turned his g-aze 
 
-104- 
 
 To find his noble father too 
 
 And hoped for it at Rome, 
 
 Where they had lived in former days 
 
 In fine palatial home. 
 
 They rose to tell the General 
 
 Their precious, precious find, 
 
 When suddenly a voice was heard, 
 
 That started from behind; 
 
 The enemy had rallied soon 
 And meant to g-ive surprise. 
 But oh! these heroes ever brave 
 Were now no less the wise! 
 They held the enemy in check 
 Upon a narrow bridg-e, 
 Until the army had come up 
 And threw them in the ditch. 
 
 The battle o'er, the General 
 
 Had send for these brave men, 
 
 Who saved the army by their pluck. 
 
 And send an escort then 
 
 To bring- them with g-reat honors in; 
 
 But they were at the door 
 
 To tell the General their great joy 
 
 To heighten it the more. 
 
—105— 
 
 The General listened with surprise, 
 But soon his eyes were wet, 
 As they their entire history told 
 And he his sons here met! 
 Describe the hearts most noble joy? 
 'Tis more than I can do! 
 I can but only feel the same 
 And you should feel it too; 
 
 What God prepared in holy love 
 All words must fail to tell. 
 When after all these many years 
 It ended all so well ! 
 'Twas hard to bear, 'tis surely true! 
 But ah! this instant g-reat, 
 Has chang-ed it all to loveliness, 
 A happy, happier fate! 
 
 The following- day they struck their camp 
 
 And started to return. 
 
 With laurels well-deserved, to Rome, 
 
 Where incense they should burn. 
 
 The headquarters were in a hut, 
 
 Which held a woman old. 
 
 Who, g-ray of hair and many griefs. 
 
 Owned nothing- to be told. 
 
—106— 
 
 She lived from fishes many years 
 
 And what the gTound would yield, 
 
 But all her life was drear3^-like 
 
 'Though peace was her great shield. 
 
 Before the General left her hut, 
 
 She beg-g^ed an interview 
 
 Then told how she had hailed from Rome 
 
 And what she suffered too. 
 
 She prayed, that he would take her back 
 
 To friends most dear to her, 
 
 Who surely would g-ive her a home; — 
 
 She tried his heart to stir! 
 
 No sooner had she spoken all 
 
 When Kustace raised his hat, 
 
 And showed his scar and asked, if she 
 
 Still recog-nizeth that? 
 
 Pray tell me what the feeling's were. 
 When heart to heart was blend ; 
 Oh! how that vision had come true, 
 Which such a day had meant! 
 Ah! in those few and shortened hours, 
 Who measures all their love? 
 Who else can do it, save the One, 
 Who dwelleth up above! 
 
—107— 
 
 The next day they were on their way, 
 
 To martyr-blood-stained Rome, 
 
 Where all the populace turned out 
 
 To welcome them back home. 
 
 But something- strange possessed the crowd, 
 
 And cautiously they said: 
 
 'How can it be? no captives were, 
 
 'Whose blood the beasts would jret? 
 
 'Yea! Placidus did not give thanks, 
 
 'To their so famous God'; 
 
 A God, whom they held in esteem, 
 
 But who was w^orse than naught. 
 
 Then very soon they struck a thought, 
 
 The thought took vital form. 
 
 And hence the senate made demand, 
 
 Demand by greatest storm, 
 
 That Placidus should sacrifice 
 
 The incense as of old, 
 
 But he rejoiced to testif}' 
 
 And so his faith he told. 
 
 Then Trajan tried a winsome way. 
 
 But Eustace faithfully 
 
 Held out until his parting- breath ; 
 
 Likewise the other three ! 
 
-108- 
 
 When seeing- all attempts as vain 
 
 The Emperor g-rew mad, 
 
 And ordered them then 'to the beasts', 
 
 Which made our heroes g-lad. 
 
 But see! the animals so wild, 
 
 Became at once so tame, 
 
 And thoug-h they once had broug^ht distress, 
 
 They seemed regretting- same. 
 
 Then Trajan roared out his command 
 
 To 'heat the furnace red 
 
 And fill it up with oil, and throw 
 
 Them in this awful bed.' 
 
 Thus Eustace, Theopista and 
 
 His children both were thrown. 
 
 Into this boiling- oil, to find 
 
 Their death without a g-roan. 
 
 Yes, martyrs' crowns bedecked their heads 
 
 And palms they held in hand. 
 
 When they had passed the earthly shore 
 
 Into yon better land ! 
 
 They're happy now, as they can be. 
 
 These seventeen hundred years. 
 
 And no more suff' ring- 'waiteth them 
 
 And dried are all their tears; 
 
—109 — 
 
 Their names are written in the booky 
 
 The book containing- life, 
 
 And showing- what God g^ives to those,. 
 
 Who faithfully will strive, 
 
 To reach the Heaven he has made 
 
 For those, that him will serve 
 
 And never dream of doing- wrongs 
 
 Nor from the rig-ht will swerve: 
 
 For ah! no eye hath ever seen, 
 Nor ear hath ever heard^ 
 Nor came it into human heart, 
 Says the Apostle s word. 
 What God prepared for those, 
 That love and serve him true 
 And persevere unto the end 
 Amid all conflict tool 
 
 The father said: This children! is 
 
 What I desired to tell, 
 
 That you may ere remember it. 
 
 And put to practise well, 
 
 The faithfulness, which you have seen 
 
 In these g-reat Saints of God, 
 
 And with them once partake of bliss 
 
 And their coelestial lot. 
 
no- 
 
 Then mindful, that it grew quite late, 
 He called them to say grace 
 To Jesus in his cosy crib. 
 Whence come all charming- rays 
 Of loye and peace for all mankind, 
 That joy to each may come. 
 And bliss may hover everywhere 
 In hig-h or humble home. 
 
 With wishes, that next Christmas would 
 Find them ag^ain the same. 
 He bid them sleep a sweet g-ood nig-ht 
 And blessed them in God's name. 
 
Ill 
 
 St. Patrick. 
 
 Patron of Ireland. 
 
 A happy boy is led away, a slave is made of him, 
 ■~*<m0' The parents and the sisters gay their sig-ht 
 with tears made dim; 
 For oh ! the ang-iush of the heart, as he returned no more. 
 From bandits and fetters hard, from yonder distant shore- 
 And dail)" they went on their knees, and daily sig-hed and 
 
 prayed. 
 And daih' they looked o'er the seas; — for his return they 
 
 wait. 
 They felt their hope so all forlorn, of him no sign appeared. 
 They felt the worry by him borne, his very life they feared. 
 
 And he, a happy boy, is made a slave in truest deed. 
 
 To do the hardest work he's bade; — the^^ lash his back and 
 
 feet; — 
 To feed the flock on grassy hill, he's sent out by command 
 And be the weather as it will, he famished had to stand. 
 Thus suffering in body much, he had but one Friend near! 
 And when dejected felt his touch, - the touch of one so dear! 
 It is his God, who is ail-where, and whom he felt so nigh. 
 Who would this youth so well prepare to lead the souls on 
 
 high. 
 
 At home they restless were, and prayed for God to send 
 
 him back. 
 But ah! how long they had to wait, as hope seemed dark 
 
 and black! 
 
-112- 
 
 But God is good and in his time will make all thing-s come 
 
 rig-ht, 
 And after ev'ry winter's clime there comes a summer bright. 
 He showed the boy in vision's light, that he should flee from 
 
 hence, 
 And to the distant shore he hied to find a ship go thence. 
 Whose crew had forced him back again for want of passage- 
 
 pay, 
 But touched by grace had called him then to cross the 
 
 ocean's way. 
 
 For this he preached the living God in thanks for their 
 
 kind deed. 
 And deep though slow had taken root the Faith's most 
 
 wondrous seed. 
 The voyage was a fearful one, and when they reached a 
 
 shore, — 
 Successfully, 'tis true, 'twas done, — they found no food in 
 
 store. 
 For days and days they marched ahead in search of nearest 
 
 town. 
 For days and days they had no bread and low became their 
 
 frown; 
 They told the boy to show it now, how true he preached to 
 
 them 
 That if in prayer he would bow his God would hear him 
 
 then. 
 
 The boy, upheld by strongest Faith, had promised succor 
 
 soon. 
 And through the boy spoke God's own breath for great and 
 
 happy boon. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 018 597 277 A