What other prayers o'er clouds and sky's vast bound Seek, by thy prayers this will at home be found.

Blest soul, so nigh to thy supreme desire, To which 'neath its own shrine dwells its own fire.

She may her body love, nor heaven prefer: What chains down others is a home to her.

Lone, yet not lone, where'er thou dost recline; On that same couch are laid both thou and thine.

Nay, when with thy chaste spouse, chaste wife thou'rt laid-- More strange, thyself thine own blest couch art made. R. WI.

x.x.xVIII.

_Ad Judaeos mactatores Stephani._ Act. vii. 59.

Frustra illum increpitant, frustra vaga saxa: nec illi Grandinis, heu, saevae! dura procella nocet.

Ista potest tolerare, potest nescire; sed illi, Quae sunt in vestro pectore, saxa nocent.

_To the Jews, murderers of St. Stephen._

Vainly ye cast stones, Jews; they give no shock: Shower as the hail-storm, it is all in vain.

These he shall bear, and heed not: 'tis the rock Of your obdurate hearts that gives him pain. G.

x.x.xIX.

_D. Joannes in exilio._ Rev. i. 9.

Exul, amor Christi est: Christum tamen invenit exul: Et solitos illic invenit ille sinus.

Ah, longo, aeterno ah terras indicite n.o.bis Exilio, Christi si sinus exilium est.

_St. John in exile._

Love to Christ an exile is, Yet the exile findeth Christ; All the dear familiar bliss, And the bosom-joys unpric'd.

Ah, Lord, exile long to us, Never-ending e'en be sent, If we find Christ's bosom thus As our place of banishment. G.

XL.

_Ad infantes martyres._ Matt. ii. 16.

Fundite ridentes animas, effundite coelo; Discet ibi vestra, o quam bene! lingua loqui.

Nec vos lac vestrum et maternos quaerite fontes: Quae vos expectat lactea tota via est.

_To the infant martyrs._

Go, smiling soules, your new-built cages breake, In Heav'n you'l learne to sing ere here to speake: Nor let the milky fonts that bath your thirst Bee your delay; The place that calls you hence is, at the worst, Milke all the way. CR.

ANOTHER VERSION.

Depart, ye smiling souls, to Heaven depart: Your tongues may there learn best the speaking art.

Stay not to suck, sweet children, do not stay: Cry not; for you shall go the milky way. B.

XLI.

_Quaerit Jesum suum beata Virgo._ Luc. ii. 45.

Ah, redeas miserae, redeas, puer alme, parenti; Ah, neque te clis tam cito redde tuis.

Coelum nostra tuum fuerint, o, brachia, si te Nostra suum poterunt brachia ferre Deum.

_The blessed Virgin seeks Jesus._

Ah, to Thy mother, ah, return, my fair, beloved Son; Return not to Thy native skies, my heaven-descended One.

Thy mother's arms Thy heaven would be, enfolding Thee around; If thus within these innocent arms the great G.o.d might be found.[51] G.

XLII.

_Non sum dignus ut sub tecta mea venias._ Matt. viii. 8.

In tua tecta Deus veniet: tuus haud sinit illud Et pudor atque humili in pectore celsa fides.

Illum ergo accipies, quoniam non accipis: ergo In te jam veniet, non tua tecta Deus.[52]

_I am not worthy that Thou shouldst come under my roofe._

Thy G.o.d was making hast into thy roofe; Thy humble faith and feare keepes him aloofe.

Hee'll be thy guest, because He may not be; Hee'll come--into thy house? No, into thee. CR.

XLIII.

_Christus accusatus nihil respondet._ Matt. xxvii. 12.

Nil ait: o sanctae pretiosa silentia linguae!

Ponderis o quanti res nihil illud erat!

Ille olim verb.u.m qui dixit, et omnia fecit, Verb.u.m non dicens omnia nunc reficit.

_And He answered them nothing._

O mighty Nothing! unto thee, Nothing, wee owe all things that bee.

G.o.d spake once when Hee all things made, Hee sav'd all when Hee Nothing said.

The world was made of Nothing then; 'Tis made by Nothing now againe. CR.

ANOTHER VERSION.

'Nothing He said.'

O precious silence of that sacred tongue!

O what vast interests on that Nothing hung!

He who once spoke the word, and all things made, Now re-makes all, when not a word is said. G.

XLIV.