akn imt %or6'8 Coming ani> Cbil^boo^. 9i;/l^itacle piB^s. ^"S IRatbatine TT^nan Dinltson \ 3 CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Joseph Whitmore Barry dramatic library THE GIFT OF TWO FRIENDS OF Cornell University t934 Cornell University Library PR 4790.H3O9 Miracle playsiOur Lord's coming and chil 3 1924 013 482 983 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013482983 OUR LORD'S COMING AND CHILDHOOD SIX MIRACLE PLAYS Katharine Tynan, -whose real name is Mrs. Katharine Tynan Hinkson, has. just published a new novel called "The Curse of Castle Eagle," Duffield & Company. Born in Dublin, her stories and novels have almost all been placed in Ireland. Her husband, who is a barrister in Dublin, is also the author of nineteen volumes of novels and verses, besides a great many short stories. She herself has written morfe than -sixty volumes of prose and fiction, and it is estimated that the en- tire output of the family amounts to something over one hundred volumes. E/'liflTHflBlNE • Wm ' HINKSON' CHICflGO: STONEflN)-K]MBaLL- L_ I CaXTON- BUILDING" lONPON : J011N-LfINE °THE-B0DLEy'HEaP° ^ '} Copyright, 1895, by Stone & Kimball f\U^0 9 TO THE REV. T. DAWSON, O.M.I. CONTENTS THE ANNUNCIATION 9 THE VISITATION 23 THE NATIVITY 35 THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE 51 THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT 63 THE FINDING IN THE TEMPLE 77 ILLUSTRATIONS BY PATTEN WILSON TITLE PAGE •AT EVENING IN HER GARDEN CLOSE' 16 •HAIL FULL OF GRACE' 19 ' MAGNIFICAT ANIMAMEADOMINUM' 30 •TAKE MOTHER AND CHILD, AND RIDE IN HASTE' 68 •GIVE ME THY SON, I WILL HIM BATHE' 71 CHRIST AND THE DOCTORS 86 Before I tell of thee, God's Son, And all the sweet salvation That Thy birth brought to labouring men. Make me Thy little child again. Bid me put off the years, and be Once more in meek humility Thy little one and wondering-eyed. Give me their faith who stood beside The manger that Thy cradle was; Vision of oxen and of ass To see Thee curled on Mary's knee. Yea, give me their humility. Give me the quiet heart in breast, And pure eye of the kindly beast That gave its meal to be Thy bed, And so was greatly honoured. Ere I behold Thy mysteries Force Thou my soul upon her knees. THE ANNUNCIATION Lilies in our garden Take the light, pure and vrhite; Lilies in the moonlight Like a silver flame. Lilies in our garden Shed perfumes, all a-bloom. Bearing then a white lily Blessed Gabriel came. Silver-pale his lily Like a sword flashed and stirred; Scimitar of Heaven, To lay Satan low. Shining like his lily Mary went, sweet, content, Walking in her garden, Flower of gold and snow. Heaven hath no lily That with her can compare. Lily for God's bosom, At the break of day Dreaming in her garden, Pure and fine, crystalline. For us, mournful sinners. Maid Mary, pray ! THE ANNUNCIATION [SCENE I.— The village street of Nazareth. In the distance goeth the tall figure of THE ANGEL. A woman standeth gazing after him. To her entereth a neighbour Tvoman, and they speak.] jFirst Woman WHO was it went as I came down, With silver feet and golden gown, And on his head a glory crown Fine as the evening star? Yonder 's the very one. He goes Light- winged, and ruddier than the rose, His lily.'s whiter than the snows Or the swan's pinions are. The irised doves that lightly sit About our steeple, downward flit. And step by him on scarlet feet, To make their duteous bow. Round him the light grows; and the lark Sings as to call the day from dark. And far away seem care and cark From our small Nazareth now. Secon^ TKaoman Gossip, I dreaming sat and spun My linen in the morning sun. Thou knowest I have no little one. The house was still and bright: 13 TLbC an» Yet my heart ached to hear the noise nunclas They used to make, my two dead boys; tion There was the shelf with all their toys Put from my aching sight. I hungered for the toil they made, When in my door there came a shade Or light perhaps, I unafraid, Looked up and saw his grace. And shading then mine eyes did speak, Though all the glory made me weak: Great Lord, what is it that you seek In this unworthy place? aftrst imioman What answered he? Second TKaoman Most sweet and fair, He said: I am a wayfarer By fields of earth and fields of air, Sad mother, and no Lord. I turned and set a chair, and laid Before him wine and wheaten bread. And cherries white and cherries red And water in a gourd. aFlrst imioman Did he partake ? SeconO TOloman He drank ; and gave His thanks, as sweet as when you lave Tired feet within the sparkling wave. So fell they on my heart. Then asked he me where lived the man UbC Htt* Joachim, and his good wife Anne, nuncia* And took his lily and staff again, ttOlt And blessing, did depart. trbftO TDHoman (enteretb) Say, have ye seen him ? As I came Up from the well, weary and lame, One with the amber hair like flame Dazzled, and passed me by. There was a sudden burst of song, And bells in heaven pealed loud and long; What marvels while the day is young Are wrought in earth and sky ? How he was clad I know not. Eyes That saw that Bird of Paradise In plumage all of gold and price. Still ache from that fine sight. Since he hath passed my foot hath rest; The sick child crying on my breast Sleeps like a young bird in the nest. And all the world is light. Who was he ? jFirst lOloman Rachel here can say. His foot was on her floor of clay; (That floor belike was blest to-day) ; His hand was on her head. Second imioman I only know what he did seem. He sought our neighbour Joachim ; But what his embassy with him The great lord has not said. '5 tibe Hn« ^b» Brothers, a little lamb I bring, itg A curled and soft and helpless thing; Its mother died at birth-giving ; And see the blood upon The fleece ! as though one marked it thus For sacrifice most piteous. There 's room enough for this with us, Beside my little son. jfitat Sbepber& Brothers, the night grows still and fair, What balmy warmth is in the air ? Look ye, whence comes that splendid Star, Travelling to Bethlehem ? trwra Sbepbetfi To-night some marvels we shall see. Golden-clad folk went down by me. All shimmering from the head to knee, Each with a diadem. Second SbepbctJ) Peace now ! For see above our hill The heavens are opening wide, until The golden glory bids us kneel And praise God in the night. See, rows on rows of shining ones, All chanting, in their silver tones. Matins and Lauds and Orisons. In one long golden flight ! Ube BngelB Singing Gloria in Excelsis Deo, Et in terra pax hominibus Bonse voluntatis ! 40 afftst sbcpbcto i^Q Lo ! they are hushed ; but flutes begin "ViatiV" A silver music, soft and thin. ttl? In one long trail the stars move in And lean above the town. 'Tis the stars singing that we hear, Like silver trumpets ringing clear. How purely floats each silver sphere. We too will travel down. mi Come up, come up, black fleece and white, Wether and ewe, and lamb so light. And you, the wean was born to-night. Come follow the Star's track i It beckons us the way it goes. And Tib, our dog, the creature knows. He too, in bitter frosts and snows. Saw Gates of Heaven rolled back. (They gather up their belongings, and all go out.) [SCENE II.— The stable. Mary sitteth in the grass of the manger, the BABE on her knee. JOSEPH kneeleth by her. The ox and the ass mildly gaze upon her and her SON.] Sweet Son, and is it thus you come To such a poor, unworthy home ? Better than this was Mary's womb. Unworthy though it were. Nine months have I desired you, sweet, To kiss your prisoned hands and feet, But never dreamt your face to greet In a sad stable, bare. Sleep, little one, sleep sweet, mine own! Mother shall rock her dearest one. 41 There lay the Baby King, Holy and undefiled ; The earth can show no sweeter thing Than a little child. A flower is fine and sweet, And sweet is a bird. But sweeter far from head to feet Was the Baby Lord. A lamb is very meek, And pure is a dove ; The Lamb of God was small and weak, All purity above. Most blessed was she Who had Him for her own ; Who rocked Him on her tender knee, Whose bosom was His throne. Right blessed she was Who fed Him at her breast. And while the nine sweet months did pass Made for Him a nest. THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE For Him was offered up A pair of doves, whose harmless reins Should brim His sacrificial cup And -wash away His stains. His stains, withouten spot. All golden pure from head to feet ; The d07es in binding meshes caught, Of Him were emblems meet. Yea, for His mother's blame In bearing Him, the doves were given, O thou who takest away Eve's shame, And openest gates of heaven: Is 't thus thou comest, sweet. So lowly with thy glories dim ? They cannot see from head to feet — God's light wraps thee and Him. THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE [SCENE I.— Outside the gates of the Temple. On the Temple steps are seated mendicants, etc. A group of women of all ranks waiting. MARY entereth with the CHILD in her arms, and JOSEPH, who carrieth two doves. They wait at the outskirts of the crowd.] HERE seemeth now a goodly throng: I pray our waiting be not long, Lest that the Babe, not over-strong. Should suffer and repine. I praise His Father with full voice, And with my sisters here rejoice, — All joy be with these mothers of boys Who have a joy like mine! Josepb Art thou not tired? The doves wilt take, And I the Child? He will not wake. Thou'lt see what careful nurse I make — I shall not let Him fall. ilBatB Nay, Joseph; for we lightlier go Than thy sweet pigeons winged with snow. I would He might be ever so. Nor leave mine arms at all. 55 XEbc IPresen* tatfon in tbe Uemple Sad is it for the mother when Her babies grow to fearless men, And never can be small again, And she their moon and sun. But the child wakes. My sweeting, see Babies like Thee, but none like Thee, Of high degree and low degree. And cheerful every one. And yonder, little Lamb, behold, A white ass and his gear of gold. I would my Baby, five weeks old. On such an one might ride. And see Thy doves ! Each pretty neck Shot with the rose and purple streak, But snowy wings without a fleck. And wee feet, scarlet-dyed. [A woman approacheth vrith a curtsey, and speaketh.] Lady, thy Baby is so fair. Such waves of glory on His hair. We, mothers of many babes, aver Was never such a child. Secona iraioman Such babe as this the Prophets saw Foreshadowed in our ancient law. Tender He is, yet full of awe, A Lamb all undefiled. 3fft6t lUMoman He seems to bless our babes and us With His dear smile and gracious. A sweeter smile than babies use, He hath, this lovely Thing. 56 O hands like rosebuds crumpled close, XEbe And little feet like any rose, lPre8en» Rose that in the winter blows, tatiOTl Of all the roses King! in tbe [The Temple doors open. As they pass in, a beggar vllH/iS. toucheth his sores to MARY'S gown and is healed. He standeth in the sunlight praising GOD. J Josepb (loquitur) Marvels are all about thy path, Rose in the world of sin and death; Blessed the man whose eye seeth Mother and Baby blest! Yea, blessed I, who have for spouse This Lily with the silver brows. And her sweet Son within mine house. My foster-Son and Guest! Meek and obedient hath she been. Since by the winding ways of green 1 led her home, and brought her in Across my threshold poor. No child is simpler than this Maid And Mother. Awe makes me afraid To see her bake our daily bread, And wash, and sweep our floor. No common household task, not one. Is there that she hath left undone. So many linen webs hath spun, So many simples brewed. Our house is sweet with sunlit air, Wherein God lays His secrets bare, And works His marvels past compare From day to day renewed. 57 TTh* [SCKNE II.— The Temple. The other women are filing it through distant door. SIMEON waiteth by the altar. iPtCBCtl* ANNA THE PROPHETESS on her knees prayeth. MARY f Sf f Ott advanceth, holding the CHILD on her outstretched arms.] in tbC Simeon UemplC Who is it? Speak, for I am blind And old and tired, and yet designed To see great things before the wind Of death hath blown me out. O in my dark the glory grows, And on my heart the rapture flows, Like his, who sees at last and knows, God's light his head about. Speak! Is the time come? I should stay, Yea, even to the eternal day. Though all the planets withered away. Until my Star was risen. My Star that breaks through night and gloom. And through the darkness of the tomb, And to my sightless eyes is come As to the souls in prison. This is Babe Jesus, small and fair: And I the Mother did Him bear. Spouse of Joseph the carpenter; Of Nazareth are we. And here I offer, holy priest. These pretty doves with irised breast. That he and I may be released, And of the birth-stain free. [She placeth the BABE in SIMEON'S arms.] 58 Sfmeon (liftetb bt6 sfgbtlces e^es) XCI)^ Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine, secundum IDtCSCtt: verbum tuum in pace. ^tf On Quia viderunt oculi mei salutare tuum. Quod <„ i^*, parasti ante faciem omnium populorum, JJ} l"^ Lumen ad revelationem Gentium, et gloriam plebis tiCntplC tuae Israel. Bnna This I have waited for is come, And it is time I were gone home, Full threescore years since on a tomb My widow's tears were shed. I prayed my dim eyes should not close In death's sweet silence and repose, Till on the world's thick darkness rose The Star of the Godhead. Glory to Him who heard my prayer. To Child and Mother did Him bear. Mary, spouse of the carpenter. Be praised in prayer and song. In whom the great Light woke and grew, Of whom world's hope was born anew, From whose sweet breast the Baby drew The milk to make Him strong. Simeon This Child is set for rise and fall Of many an one in Israel all; A sign they speak against withal When many years are past. Yea, thine own heart the sword shall ope, Thou mournful Mother of our Hope. So may the many hearts yield up Their secrets at the last. 59 presen* Thy words are dark, thou holy man; tation Yet swift and sudden the swords ran in tbC Piercing my heart. The pain began UemplC Upon thy prophecy, Of some dark day when One must die. O very dimly I descry Three crosses under a maddened sky: All else is hid from me. Come, little Lamb, there is sweet peace At home beneath our cherry trees, And dappled skies of blue and fleece From whence the sweet airs fall; And arbors where a little one Might shelter from the noonday sun; And alleys green where he might run When he would play at ball. Sleep, little Bird; sleep sweet, my Dove, In Mother's arms and Mother's love. From Nazareth we shall not rove. My little Boy and I. In Nazareth angels' wings brood o'er With angels kneeling by our door. And feet of angels on our floor. And swords of angels nigh. Let us go home; for home is best, Child Jesus! where love builds Thy nest. And none can harm Thee, loveliest. Except Thy Father will. On Him in trust my cares I lay, For this and for a distant day. Be His to save or His to slay, — Blessed His Name be still! Co The blind old priest of sacrifice, Lifting to Heaven his sightless eyes, Praised God that unto him -was given To hold the Baby nev7 from Heaven, Child - King of earth and Paradise. To that meek, trembling Mother-Maid, What were the words of woe he said ? O little Sword of God, that went Through her kind heart and innocent; Thus was her mother-love repaid. THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT The false gods from their place fell down, And they were broken, one and all, When there came to the Egyptian town Mother and Baby fair and small. in from the desert where long syne Thou soughtest for me, come speedily. My walled town, closed to trump of thine. Opens unto Thy baby cry. See, the false gods are on their face. Broken to pieces altogether ; My soul is as a desert place, Yet come, dear Child from wind and weather. THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT [SCENE I.— JOSEPH sleepeth in a room white with moonlight. Outside Bethlehem lieth still in the morn. JOSEPH dreameth and uttereth aloud his dream.] Joacpb ARE they not safe? I heard, me- thought, The crying of women sore distraught, And through that lonely sound I caught The shriek of babes, and then Clashing of swords, and oaths, and fierce Wild laughter rang against mine ears. Mine eyes beheld the dripping spears In hands of wicked men. 'Twas night in Bethlehem did seem All through the horror of my dream. And 'Woe!' and 'Woe to Bethlehem!' I heard a voice cry on. And yet I know the small town lies Soothed by the sweetest lullabies, Watched by a million starry eyes That gaze until the dawn. I know the babies lie at rest. Each rosy on its mother's breast, Wherein Love makes the tenderest nest. O hard-heart little town! 67 UbC That bade my Dearest in her need 3f ligbt Take refuge in the cattle-shed, VntO And gave her sweetest Son for bed JBQSPt The cattle's manger brown. Nevertheless sleep well, and far Away from thee those cries of war! Sleep sweetly under the Birthnight Star Until the cock shall crow. The while I list, as soft as love The tender breathing of my Dove And the dear Babe her heart above Breathing so soft and low. [A radiance floated in his dream, in the midst of which appeareth THE ANGEL OF THE LORD.] Joseph, arise! no time for sleep If thou thy trust with God wouldst keep. Leave Bethlehem town to wail and weep, But thou, up and away! Take Mother and Child, and ride in haste Across the desert still and vast. Saddle thine ass and ride thee fast, Be far ere break of day. Herod now seeks the Child to kill. Up and away with a good-will. Soon will the winds of dawn blow chill, The day of blood be red. Save thou the Child ! Here will be moan. Weeping and lamentation lone The voice of Rachel for her son Mourning uncomforted. [JOSEPH waketh and peereth in the moonlight. He then ariseth hastily and wakeneth MARY.] Josepb XCbe Dearest, rise up and take the Child, ^Ugbt We must away ere yon star mild ITntO Wanes in the day. While yet He smiled lEflgpt In sleep, a vision rose. And warned of danger dark, and death. Wrap thee right warm. The morning breath Is cold, and cold the night bloweth The way our journey goes. Alas, and is it so soon they seek To slay my Babe new-born and weak ? This little One so soft and meek No wild beast would Him harm. Saddle the ass. We two will be Ready by then to ride with thee. My Sweet shall take no chill with me, My veil and cloak are warm. Come, Little One, now leave behind The town where we no roof could find The night that Thou wast born. Unkind The desert need not prove. For Thee to whom the world is ill. Yea, raveneth like a wild beast still. My white and innocent Lamb to kill. Come, tender little Dove ! [They pass out into the darkness, where JOSEPH hold- eth the stirrup-rein of the ass.] 69 7Tht> [SCENE II.— In a robber's cave in the desert. MARY ^iiy,^ , , laveth the little JESUS in clear v/ater, while by her side jrltdDt LEAH, the robber's wife, suckleth her babe.] '^}°i- Xcab (sinsctb) JbOBPt Sleep sweet, my baby Whiter than snows, Rose of the desert That in the night blows. Round my wan rosebud Floweth my veil, Screening my white rose, Tender and pale. Little white rosebud, Be not in haste Yet to uncover To the hot blast. World's breath will scorn thee, Cruel winds blow. Ravage my rosebud Whiter than snow. Lullaby, my rosebud. Grow not a rose ; Round thee to shield thee Mother's veil flows. Rose of her darkness, Make her heart glad — The saddest poor mother That ever earth had. Why then, my sister, dost thou sing So sad a cradle song to wing Thy baby into slumbering ? Nay, sweet, thine eyes be dried. Kiss his soft feet and feel but this, Thou art a mother, with that bliss Turning all carking care that is To happy joy and pride. 70 We take the joy and grief in one, XCbe We mothers who have borne a son, jf Ifgbt And would not wish our lot undone VlttO If it were else all woes. TBQ'Qpt But hold my Jesus, and let me Thy pretty baby on my knee Nurse for a little. I would see The face thou boldest so close. Xeab (weepetb) Lady, ah now, you touch my wound. Where is a sadder mother found All the sad earth o'er and around ? O lady, see my child. White with the leprosy ! I dare Not touch your Boy's sweet face and hair Lest that my finger-tips should bear Those seeds rank and defiled. Alas» poor mother, was this why Didst lay thy precious baby by. And would not let my gaze come nigh His piteous little form ? Nay, give him me, and take my Sweet That is all sound from head to feet. The evil thing, I fear not it. It cannot do Him harm. Give me thy son, I will him bathe Here where my one Son bathed hath. Great virtue hath He evil scathe And taint away to take. [Holdeth the babe, swiftly unclothing him.] 71 TLbC Now in the water I thee lay. ff liQbt My Baby's Father, take away Unto This baby's leprosy, I pray, EflBPt Even for Thy sweet Son's sake ! [She raiseth the babe from the water, wholly cleansed, and layeth him rosy in his mother's lap.] Here is thy Dimas. Lift thine eyes, See how he sweet and rosy lies That piteous was and food for sighs. Now, sister, praise the Lord ! 3Lcab (falletb Oown) I praise His Name, and thee He sent, His angel and His instrument, To work on me His good intent, And on my babe and bird. Praise me not. But if thou wilt, praise My Baby through thy length of days And praise His Father who had grace And pity for thy need ! Thou, little Dimas, who art clean, I have a vision of thy sin. And of thy sorrow that wins in At last to Heaven indeed. little Dimas, round and smooth, 1 see thee in thy lusty youth Brought down to death and shame in truth; I see thee keeping tryst 7» In a most bitter day and hour XLbC When men are mad and hell hath power, jf ligbt High where the awful crosses tower, ?ntO Keeping thy tryst with Christ. Bgspt Little Dimas, when all is done. Side by side with my little Son, Thou winnest in when Heaven is won, O happy little child 1 Now sleep. And sleep, my Jesus small. For little birds are sleeping all. And shadows lengthen on the wall. And fades the daylight mild. The little robber child was scaled With foulest leprosy: Yet Thy sweet bath-water availed To cleanse and set him free. So cleanse Thou me I High by Thy side the same was set That hour upon the Rood. His brow like Thine had bloody sweat, His feet like thine ran blood Thou Dear and Good I Because he turned before he died And yearned to Thee with cries, Didst call him, blest one, by Thy side To enter Paradise, Call me likewise I THE FINDING IN THE TEMPLE Where wert Thou then from dawn to night ? From candle-light to candle-light i And what Thy Father's business That kept Thee from her fond embrace ? No answer comes to us at all. And wast Thou rapt away a while To greet in Heaven Thy Father's smile ? Or did Thy feet go up and down Still seeking sinners through the town From outer wall to outer wall t Just once Thy Godhead didst reveal While Thy svireet childish years did steal Slovr and fleet as a child's years go. Subject to her Tirho loved Thee so, And kept thy sayings in her heart. years of mystery 1 when Thy feet Strayed 'twixt the garden and the street : When Thou didst make Thee carpenter And this one's table, that one's chair Didst fashion all with cunning art. 1 would we had but one sweet tool Of Thine— Thy plane, Thy bench, Thy rule I THE FINDING IN THE TEMPLE [SCENE I, — ^Where two roads meet, a day*s journey from Jerusalem. A group of men waiting, among them the blessed JOSEPH. Approaching by one of the roads a band of women.] jfitet ^an Here they come buzzing like the bees In summer in the sycamore trees, With 'so folks say,' and ' an' you please,' The foolish woman's way. SeconD ^an Though they come from the Passover, I trow the chatter doth not spare Kind neighbours here, kind neighbours there, With 'lack!' and 'well-a-day !' ^bird Oinn And yet, good gossips, who decry Your wives and mine, tell how and why Ye think no other dame comes nigh Your own when all is said. 3fftst Ittm Right ! Yet I see among the throng, One who doth shine our wives among, — I do the honest souls no wrong. — As a star in a bed 8i tEbe Of daisies. 'Tis that Mary sweet, jfinMltd Hidden and draped from head to feet In tbe In veils of holiness, yet meet ■^emple For human joy and pain. Second ilban Mary being with our wives would be No gossip, incivility Or rude discourse. So rare is she Like some sweet lofty strain. ^bird jflban Now Joseph sees her full of grace. He too hath lilies in his face ; They say he is of royal race : Right wondrous is their Son. Jpirst ^an What buzz of marvels gathers now Round little Jesus, whose white brow Draweth earth's light to rest, I trow, Like golden thorns thereon ? fliarfi (comctb Baising in bcr beart) Little one, little Son of mine. Thy mother's heart doth ache and pine From day's uprise to day's decline Wherein she hath not Thee. These kindly women's praise (she saith) Quickens her heart, quickens her breath. Thy Father's blessing fall (she prayeth) On these that pleasure me. 9o0cpb (a&vancctb) JXbQ Thou hast been slow, my queen, but ffinbing where m tbe Tarries the Boy, a loiterer ? XCempIe What thing of earth or thing of air Hath tempted Him to stray ? Is it that he chases as boys do Red moth or dragonfly in blue, Or gathers blackberries in dew A little down the way ? ^atB (paletb) Is He not then with thee ? When last I saw him to thy side he passed, Where the roads met ; the throng was vast That either way deflled. And thou and I went different ways. My heart hath drunk all day his praise And ached all day to meet His gaze And thine. Where is the Child? 5osepb Grow not so pale ! He stays behind With friends and kinsfolk, warm and kind, We will retrace our paths to find How safe the path He keeps. Nay, sweet, can anything of ill Happen without His Father's will ? Whose hand is o'er His own Son still, Whose heart keeps watch nor sleeps. 7rfl<> (SCENE II.— At the portals of the Temple. MARY !ij">L ,„ ^ Cometh weary aad pale, and there awaiteth JOSEPH,] jrtnoind ^ in tbe ^^'^b ttemple Three days these hilly streets have known My feet that bleed, have heard my groan. The swords turn in my heart, like stone, That lies yet hath no rest. heart that broke when Simeon spake His woeful words, again wilt break ? Seven swords of grief for my Son's sake Have pierced His mother's breast. Joeepb (enteretb) No news at all, nothing at all I But silence like a brazen wall, And yet what ill could Him befall Whose path the angels throng ? My hands have knocked at many a door, My feet trod many a stranger floor. (I would not that she knew how sore My heart is.) Sweet, be strong ! 1 know His Passion draweth nigh Ever and ever silently. But day and hour that know not I. What if His Father's hour Had struck ! And He, a child that lay So warm, it seems but yesterday. Betwixt my bosom and the hay. Were in His foes' dread power. 84 What if they racked Him at their will, UbC And scourged His tender limbs until jfin&fttQ They were one wound ! What if they in tbe kill XTemple My Baby while we stay ! Or what if I unworthy proved Had lost that precious charge beloved, And He by angel hands removed. Were far and far away ! That were the least so it were well With Him, dear friend, I scarce can tell Mine anguish most intolerable. The fears that lurk and spring And rend my soul like an ill beast. Josepb Come, in the Temple let us rest. He will return to thy fond breast, As bird to mother's wing. Come, where the lilies twine around The marble fount, and silver sound The waters: it is holy ground That dim, sequestered place. Who knows if there we pray and kneel His Father's counsel may reveal What hiding-place doth well conceal The whole world's light and grace I JThey enter the Temple, where they behold the little JESUS discussing in the midst of the doctors.] 85 tCbe /Rare Iflnbfng Sweet Son, how hast Thou dealt with in tbe us? Uemple So all unkind, unpiteous. It was not like Thee to go thus And leave us to our fears. 5esus Sweet Mother, wherefore fears and woe ? Did ye not know I come and go Upon My Father's business ? lo 1 That calleth at mine ears. jFfrst Doctor Madam, is this thy Son ? Then He, This little Jesus, born of thee, Hath all wisdom and prophecy Upon His childish tongue. ScconO Doctor A great prophet hath risen sure. The Lord hath pity on the poor And groaning world, and opes His door To send this seraph young. iftarg Kind sirs, my Jesus, whom ye praise, Is but a child in length of days. Just such a little lad as plays At home about your knees. For many and many a year to come My little Jesus in our home Will find the safety sweet, nor roam From where His mother is. My little Boy beneath our rule XTbe And at the kind dame's village school, jf InMn^ Will grow both tall and beautiful, in tbe And learn His father's trade. Uemple I would not that by even a span Ye clipped the child's days for the man. Nor that too fast the dear years ran While yet my Jesus played. Come, little Son, come home ! Too soon Thy morn will lengthen into noon. About our eaves Thy blue doves croon. Thy kitten misses Thee. And Thy small lamb that groweth big. Thy garden-bed waits Thee to dig. The bursting fruit on vine and fig Tempts now the honey-bee. [With salutations they go forth, the little JESUS hold- ing His MOTHER'S hand.] Because Thou wentest mourning Those three days up and down The stony streets and burning Of that gray Eastern town, And on the hilly street Thy heart bled with thy feet. Because 'within the Temple Thy joy went on before. Thy little Son and simple Who taught the wise His lore. Took then thy hand and went Home with thee well-content. Remember all souls roaming. Souls sick and sad and sore Who pray not for His coming His feet upon their floor. Take thou their hands and lead Them home, aye home indeed ! Of my temerity Jesu, assoil mel That I have dared to write, In all sincerity, Tidings an angel might Tell of a verity. With a pen steeped in light. Of my temerity Jesu, assoil me I ■ WEDNESDAY, JSBBRUARt 28, 1906. FEBRVABY: A POBU. l^athai^iie Tjmin, in The London rhrlbune, t'^vSury fills the Al^6 _ ■yrlth Black, *rth white, With thfe gbld o" the fldwfer that'i like The stats' Et ntgftit. Spplitg; comes slowly up this way, Fadr ,inaic[ iringa.on a ^ray day B^lowers ^6r Maf'y. Gray south wind; and a gray sky And a new hope Aids tSre ^h^k^fy heart 6n high, Lifts it tits^ , February snrekas th% boarS, &sts fhe feaSt, Makes an .g,lt4i* to thfe Xibrd, Vfists the priest. See tat gaJdehS freaked wltti snow Sn6#ar6p|, ae the wind will blbw. Ring- their bells. Bid the ptous f Oik come in And to their knee?; SJlveifliitrpits now begin In all the trees. Hear .the blackbird chorister . At daWn; at tiVeil; His wild chant, so fresh, so rare, A- song of heaven, Hear thfe thrush in all^the bb^eirs. And hekr the lark! Ngw the.j^ay's a book of hours From dawn to dark. The full Ijosomed earth Is young ynder the snows. Every grass blade newly aprunir Breathes like a rose. WttW BtfgaSnKtS lately dumb Lif t- a ^niSill •vol