Rehearsing or at eve or morn His chant of glory undefiled, The Creed that with the Church was born: -- Down be his earnest forehead cast, His slender fingers join'd for prayer, With half a frown his eye seal'd fast Against the world's intruding glare. Who, -- while his lips so gently move, And all his look is purpose strong, Can say what wonders, wrought above, Upon his unstain'd fancy throng? The world new-framed, the CHRIST new-born, The Mother-Maid, the cross and grave, The rising sun on Easter morn, The fiery tongues sent down to save, -- The gathering Church, the Font of Life, The saints and mourners kneeling round, The Day to end the body's strife, The Saviour in His people crown'd, -- All in majestic march and even To the veil'd eye by turns appear, True to their time as stars in heaven, -- No morning dream so still and clear. |