Suddenly, as if it lightened, An unwonted splendour brightened And he saw the Blessed Vision Not as crucified and slain, Not with bleeding hands and feet, In the house or harvest field, Halt and lame and blind He healed, When He walked in Galilee. In an attitude imploring, Hands upon his bosom crossed, Knelt the Monk in rapture lost. Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest, Who am I, that thus Thou deignest To reveal Thyself to me? Who am I, that from the centre Of Thy glory, Thou shouldst enter This poor cell, my guest to be? Then amid his exaltation, Loud the convent bell appalling, He had never heard before. It was now the appointed hour And their almoner was he, Who upon his bended knee, Rapt in silent ecstasy Of divinest self-surrender, Saw the Vision and the Splendour. Deep distress and hesitation Mingled with his adoration; Should he go, or should he stay? Should he slight his heavenly guest, Slight this visitant celestial, Then a voice within his breast Straightway to his feet he started, At the gate the poor were waiting, Looking through the iron grating, With that terror in the eye That is only seen in those Who amid their wants and woes Hear the sound of doors that close, And of feet that pass them by ! Like the gate of Paradise Seemed the convent gate to rise; Like a sacrament divine Seemed to them the bread and wine. Unto Me! but had the Vision Come a mendicant imploring, And have turned away with loathing? As at length, with hurried pace, And beheld the convent bright Like a luminous cloud expanding Over floor, and wall, and ceiling. But he paused with awe-struck feeling For the Vision still was standing When the convent bell appalling, And he felt his bosom burn, When the Blessed Vision said, "Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled ! BROOK. THE BOY AND THE ARMENIAN POPULAR SONG. Down from yon distant mountain height The brooklet flows through the village street; A boy comes forth to wash his hands, Washing, yes, washing, there he stands, In the water cool and sweet. "Brook, from what mountains dost thou come ? O my brooklet cool and sweet!" |