"Hail! sacred feast, which Jesus makes—

Rich banquet of his flesh and blood:

Thrice happy he who here partakes

That sacred stream, that heavenly food."

With a bearing meekly grateful, slow approach the sacred feast,

And, with penitential gladness, take, by faith, this Eucharist.

Hark! how sweetly, o'er it stealing, come the sounds of pardoning love!

Winning back to paths of virtue all who now in error rove.

Here is food for all who languish, and for those who, fainting, thirst—

Free, from Christ, the Living Fountain, crystal waters ceaseless burst!

Come, ye sad and weary-hearted, bending 'neath a weight of woe—

Here the Comforter is waiting his rich blessings to bestow!

None need linger—all are bidden to this "Supper of the Lamb:"

Come, and by this outward token, worship God, the great "I AM!"

"One sacred oath hath tied

Our loves; one destiny our life shall guide;

Nor wild nor deep our common way divide!"

Choral voices float around us, music on the night air swells;

Hill and dell resound with echoes of the gleeful wedding bells!

Ushered thus, we haste to enter on a scene of radiant joy—

List'ning vows in ardor plighted, which alone can death destroy.

Passing fair the bride appeareth, in her robes of snowy white,

While the veil around her streameth, like a silvery halo's light;

And amid her hair's rich braidings rests the pearly orange bough,

With its fragrant blossoms pressing on her pure, unclouded brow.

Love's devotion yields the future with young Hope's resplendent beam;

And her spirit thrills with rapture, yielding to its blissful dream!

"Death, thou art infinite!"

"All that live must die,

Passing through nature to Eternity."

Now we chant a miserere which proclaims the end of man—

Telling, in prophetic language, "Life," at best, "is but a span!"

Scarcely treading, slowly enter, reverently bend the knee—

List the Spirit's inward whisper, and from worldly thoughts be free.

Here we view a weary pilgrim, cradled in a dreamless sleep;

Human sounds no more shall reach her, for its spell is "long and deep!"

Gaze upon the marble features! Mark how peacefully they rest!

Anguished thought, and sorrow's heavings, all are parted from that breast!

Soon on mother earth reposing, this cold form shall calmly lie,

Till, by God's dread trump awakened, it shall mount to realms on high.

From mountain top, and from the deep-voiced valley,

The snow-white mists are slowly upward wreathing:

Now floating wide, now hovering close, to dally

With sportive winds, around them lightly breathing,

Till, in the quickening Spring-shine through them creeping,

Their gloomy power dissolves in warmth and gladness;

While swift, new tides through Nature's heart-pulse sweeping.

Floods all her veins with a delicious madness.

Warmed into life, a world of bright shapes thronging—

Young, tender leaf-buds in fresh greenness swelling,

Flower, bird, and insect, with prophetic longing,

Pour forth their joy in tremulous hymns upwelling:

Thus, Love's Spring sun dispels all chill and sorrow

With joyful promise of Love's fullest morrow.

Sweet incense from the heart of myriad flowers,

Sweet as the breath that parts the lips of love,

Floats softly upward through the sunny hours,

Hiving its fragrance in the warmth above:

Big with rich store, the teeming earth yields up

The increase of her harvest treasury;

While golden wine, from Nature's brimming cup,

Quickens her pulse to love-toned melody.

Full choiréd praise from countless glad throats break,

More dazzling bright doth gleam night's dewy eyes;

A newer witchery doth the great moon wake;

More mellow languisheth the bending skies:

Thus, through the heart Life's Summer-sun comes stealing,

Spring's wildest promise in Love's fulness sealing.

Athwart the ripe, red sunshine fitfully,

Like withering doubts through Love's warm, flushing breast,

With wailing voice of saddest augury,

Sweeps from the frozen North a phantom guest.

With icy finger on each yellow leaf

Writes he the history of the dying year.

Love's harvest reaped, the grainless stalk and sheaf—

Like plundered hearts, unkerneled of sweet cheer—

Lie black and bare, exposed to rudest tread:

While still, with semblance of the Summer brave,

Soft, pitying airs float o'er its cold death-bed;

Bright flowers and motley leaves flaunt o'er its grave:

As in Earth's Autumn—so, through weeping showers,

Love sighs a mournful requiem over bygone hours.

Locked in a close embrace, like that of Death,

Earth's pulseless heart reposes, mute and chill;

Within her frozen breast, her frozen breath,

In its forgotten fragrance, slumbereth still:

Sapless her veins, and numb her withered arms,

That still, outstretched, stand grim mementos drear

Of her once gorgeous and full-leavéd charms.

Of flower and fruit, all increase of the year:

Voiceless the river, in ice fretwork chained;

Hushed the sweet cadences of bird and bee;

Dumb the last echo to soft music trained,

And warmth and life are a past memory:

Thus, buried deep within dull Winter's rime,

Love dreamless sleeps through the long Winter-time.

A merry life does the hunter lead!

He wakes with the dawn of day;

He whistles his dog—he mounts his steed,

And sends to the woods away!

The lightsome tramp of the deer he'll mark,

As they troop in herds