Praise thee, adore thee!
         Father omnipotent!
         Son, the Life-giver!
         Spirit, the Comforter!
         Worthy at all times
         Of worship and wonder!
  Prince Henry (at the door). Amen!
  Ursula. Who was it said Amen?
  Elsie. It was the Prince: he stood at the door,
And listened a moment, as we chaunted
The evening song. He is gone again.
I have often seen him there before.  Ursula. Poor Prince!
  Gottlieb. I thought the house was haunted!
Poor Prince, alas! and yet as mild
And patient as the gentlest child!  Max. I love him because he is so good,
And makes me such fine bows and arrows,
To shoot at the robins and the sparrows,
And the red squirrels in the wood!  Bertha. I love him, too!
  Gottlieb. Ah, yes! we all
Love him, from the bottom of our hearts;
He gave us the farm, the house, and the grange,
He gave us the horses and the carts,
And the great oxen in the stall,
The vineyard, and the forest range!
We have nothing to give him but our love!  Bertha. Did he give us the beautiful stork above
On the chimney-top, with its large, round nest?  Gottlieb. No, not the stork; by God in heaven,
As a blessing, the dear, white stork was given;
But the Prince has given us all the rest.
God bless him, and make him well again.  Elsie. Would I could do something for his sake,
Something to cure his sorrow and pain!  Gottlieb. That no one can; neither thou nor I,
Nor any one else.  Elsie. And must he die?
  Ursula. Yes; if the dear God does not take
Pity upon him, in his distress,
And work a miracle!  Gottlieb. Or unless
Some maiden, of her own accord,
Offers her life for that of her lord,
And is willing to die in his stead.  Elsie. I will!
  Ursula. Prithee, thou foolish child, be still!
Thou shouldst not say what thou dost not mean!  Elsie. I mean it truly!
  Max. O father! this morning,
Down by the mill, in the ravine,
Hans killed a wolf, the very same
That in the night to the sheepfold came,
And ate up my lamb, that was left outside.  Gottlieb. I am glad he is dead. It will be a warning
To the wolves in the forest, far and wide.  Max. And I am going to have his hide!
  Bertha. I wonder if this is the wolf that ate
Little Red Ridinghood!  Ursula. O, no!
That wolf was killed a long while ago.
Come, children, it is growing late.  Max. Ah, how I wish I were a man,
As stout as Hans is, and as strong!
I would do nothing else, the whole day long,
But just kill wolves.  Gottlieb. Then go to bed,
And grow as fast as a little boy can.
Bertha is half asleep already.
See how she nods her heavy head,
And her sleepy feet are so unsteady
She will hardly be able to creep upstairs.  Ursula. Good-night, my children. Here's the light.
And do not forget to say your prayers
Before you sleep.  Gottlieb. Good-night!
  Max and Bertha. Good-night!
          (They go out with ELSIE.)
  Ursula, (spinning). She is a strange and wayward child,
That Elsie of ours. She looks so old,
And thoughts and fancies weird and wild
Seem of late to have taken hold
Of her heart, that was once so docile and mild!  Gottlieb. She is like all girls.
  Ursula. Ah no, forsooth!
Unlike all I have ever seen.
For she has visions and strange dreams,
And in all her words and ways, she seems
Much older than she is in truth.
Who would think her but fourteen?
And there has been of late such a change!
My heart is heavy with fear and doubt
That she may not live till the year is out.
She is so strange,--so strange,--so strange!  Gottlieb. I am not troubled with any such fear!
She will live and thrive for many a year.

ELSIE'S CHAMBER.

Night. ELSIE praying.  Elsie. My Redeemer and my Lord,
I beseech thee, I entreat thee,
Guide me in each act and word,
That hereafter I may meet thee,
Watching, waiting, hoping, yearning,
With my lamp well trimmed and burning!Interceding
With these bleeding
Wounds upon thy hands and side,
For all who have lived and erred
Thou hast suffered, thou hast died,
Scourged, and mocked, and crucified,
And in the grave hast thou been buried!If my feeble prayer can reach thee,
O my Saviour, I beseech thee,
Even as thou hast died for me,
More sincerely
Let me follow where thou leadest,
Let me, bleeding as thou bleedest,
Die, if dying I may give
Life to one who asks to live,
And more nearly,
Dying thus, resemble thee!

THE CHAMBER OF GOTTLIEB AND URSULA.

Midnight. ELSIE standing by their bedside, weeping.  Gottlieb. The wind is roaring; the rushing rain
Is loud upon roof and window-pane,
As if the Wild Huntsman of Rodenstein,
Boding evil to me and mine,
Were abroad to-night with his ghostly train!
In the brief lulls of the tempest wild,
The dogs howl in the yard; and hark!
Some one is sobbing in the dark,
Here in the chamber!  Elsie. It is I.
  Ursula. Elsie! what ails thee, my poor child?
  Elsie. I am disturbed and much distressed,
In thinking our dear Prince must die,
I cannot close mine eyes, nor rest.  Gottlieb. What wouldst thou? In the Power Divine
His healing lies, not in our own;
It is in the hand of God alone.  Elsie. Nay, he has put it into mine,
And into my heart!  Gottlieb. Thy words are wild!
  Ursula. What dost thou mean? my child! my child!
  Elsie. That for our dear Prince Henry's sake
I will myself the offering make,
And give my life to purchase his.  Ursula Am I still dreaming, or awake?
Thou speakest carelessly of death,
And yet thou knowest not what it is.  Elsie. 'T is the cessation of our breath.
Silent and motionless we lie;
And no one knoweth more than this.
I saw our little Gertrude die,
She left off breathing, and no more
I smoothed the pillow beneath her head.
She was more beautiful than before.
Like violets faded were her eyes;
By this we knew that she was dead.
Through the open window looked the skies
Into the chamber where she lay,
And the wind was like the sound of wings,
As if angels came to bear her away.
Ah! when I saw and felt these things,
I found it difficult to stay;
I longed to die, as she had died,
And go forth with her, side by side.
The Saints are dead, the Martyrs dead,
And Mary, and our Lord, and I
Would follow in humility
The way by them illumined!  Ursula. My child! my child! thou must not die!
  Elsie  Why should I live? Do I not know
The life of woman is full of woe?
Toiling on and on and on,
With breaking heart, and tearful eyes,
And silent lips, and in the soul
The secret longings that arise,
Which this world never satisfies!
Some more, some less, but of the whole
Not one quite happy, no, not one!  Ursula. It is the malediction of Eve!
  Elsie. In place of it, let me receive
The benediction of Mary, then.  Gottlieb. Ah, woe is me! Ah, woe is me!
Most wretched am I among men!  Ursula. Alas! that I should live to see
Thy death, beloved, and to stand
Above thy grave! Ah, woe the