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And evermore shall your life be blest,
Since you gave for your country's good the
God ever gave to you!
MOTHER of Christ long slain, forth glided she,
Following the children joyously astir Under the cedars and the olive-tree,
Pausing to let their laughter float to her. Each voice an echo of a voice more dear, She saw a little Christ in every face. When lo! another woman, passing near, Yearned o'er the tender life that filled the
And Mary sought the woman's hand, and said:
"I know thee not, yet know thee memorytossed
And what hath led thee here, as I am
These bring to thee a child beloved and
"How radiant was my little one!
And He was fair,
Yea fairer than the fairest sun,
And like its rays through amber spun
His sun-bright hair,
Still, I can see it shine and shine!"
"Even so," the woman said, "was mine."
"His ways were ever darling ways," And Mary smiled,
"So soft and clinging! Glad relays
Of love were all his precious days-
Was like an infinite that gleamed."
"Even so was mine," the woman dreamed.
Then whispered Mary: "Tell me, thou
Of thine!" And she:
"Oh, mine was rosy as a bough Blooming with roses, sent, somehow,
To bloom for me!
His balmy fingers left a thrill
Within my breast that warms me still."
Then gazed she down some wilder, darker hour
And said, when Mary questioned knowing
"Who art thou, mother of so sweet a
"I am the mother of Iscariot."
HYMN ON THE NATIVITY
IT was the winter wild,
While the heaven-born child
All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
Nature, in awe of him,
Had doffed her gaudy trim,
With her great Master so to sympathize: It was no season then for her
To wanton with the sun, her lusty para
Only with speeches fair
She wooes the gentle air,
To hide her guilty front with innocent
And on her naked shame,
Pollute with sinful blame,
The saintly veil of maiden-white to throw; Confounded, that her Maker's eyes
Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
But he, her fears to cease,
Sent down the meek-eyed Peace:
She, crowned with olive green, came softly