ST. STEPHEN'S DAY.

AT MIDNIGHT.

Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life. REV. ii.

"O, qui tuo, dux Martyrum."

RIGHTFUL Prince of martyrs thou,
Bind thy crown about thy brow;
Fairer far than fading wreath,

Weave we this thy crown of death.

Like a gem each rugged stone,
Sparkling with thy life-blood, shone;
Nor could stars more brightly shine,
Studded round thy head divine.

From thy forehead's gushing streams
Dart a thousand blending beams,
Till thy glowing countenance
Lightens to an Angel's glance.

Thou the first-slain victim free

To Him, the Victim slain for thee:
Thou the first thy Lord to own,

Sharer of His thorny crown.

First to tread the pointed road
Through the deep Red sea of blood :-
Prince of martyrs, thee behind

What a countless army wind?

Thou of Virgin-mother born,
In this wintry world forlorn ;
Jesu, Lord, all praise to Thee.
All glory be to Father, Son,
And Holy Spirit, Three in One,
Unto all eternity.

AT THE MATTINS.

Behold my witness is in Heaven, and my record is on high.JOB XVI.

"Quid obstinata pectora."

WHY, stern of heart, and dull of ear,

The heaven-born truth defy?

When full of Heaven he bids you

hear,

Why doom the saint to die?

Behold him, where each murderous hand

Upheaves the deadly stone;

And Saul hath arm'd his savage band
Around yon guiltless one.

How fruitless all! for lo, on high
Heaven's starry court expands,
And far beyond the opening sky
Th' enthroned Saviour stands.

Thou fail'st not, Lord, Thy liegeman true,
Amidst the struggle hard,

Thou art his might, his umpire Thou,

And Thou his great reward.

Nor recks he aught the 'whelming shower,

Full fix'd on Heaven and Thee :

Where Thou art Judge, and Thine the power,

To die is victory.

From Thy full fount his raptur'd thought

Drinks in Thy living fires;

And from his mortal coil up-caught,

He joins Thine Angel quires.

Oh Thou, of Virgin-mother born,
Jesu, all praise to Thee :

All glory be to Father, Son,
And Holy Spirit, Three in One,
To all eternity.

AT THE VESPERS.

I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your Father which is in Heaven.-ST. MATT. V.

"Miris probat sese modis."

HOLY Love towards her foes
In mysterious channels flows;

Bow'd to soothe, or steel'd to blame,

Holy Love is still the same.

Pleader for himself he stood :-
Now he falls, his eloquent blood
From the ground for mercy cries,
Pleading for his enemies.

G

God from Heav'n His martyr heard,— Heard, and bless'd his dying word: Saul, the murderer, standing by,— Saul was granted to that cry.

Thus he bow'd his drooping head,
Thus his joyous spirit fled :
"Jesu, Lord," his offering free,-
"Take the life I owe to Thee."

Death, kind angel, watching nigh,
Sweetly clos'd his tranquil eye;
Whilst the freed spirit wing'd her flight,
From beam to beam, to endless light.

Thou that dealtst thy plenteous store

Daily to the sick and poor,

Now art come, a welcome guest,
To thy Father's table blest.

In thy bridal crown display'd,
In the wedding robe array'd
Of thy purple life-blood wove,
For the Slain One's feast of love.