His silvered head. And Chrysostom we claim
In that clear eloquent flame

And deep-taught zeal in the same woe, which shone Bright round a Martyr's throne.

And Ambrose reared his crosier as of old,

Less honoured, but as bold,

When in dark times our champion crossed a king:But good in every thing

Comes as ill's cure. Dim Future! shall we NEED A prophet for Truth's Creed?

d.

XCV.

GREGORIUS THEOLOGUS.

PEACE-LOVING man, of humble heart and true!
What dost thou here?

Fierce is the city's crowd; the lordly few
Are dull of ear!

Sore pain it was to thee, till thou didst quit

Thy patriarch-throne at length, as though for power

unfit.

So works the All-wise! our services dividing

Not as we ask;

For the world's profit, by our gifts deciding
Our duty-task.

See in king's courts loth Jeremiah plead;

And slow-tongued Moses rule by eloquence of deed!

Yes! thou, bright Angel of the East, didst rear
The Cross divine,

Borne high upon thy clear-voiced accents, where
Men mocked the Sign;

Till that cold city heard thy battle-cry,

And hearts were stirred, and deemed a Pentecost was nigh.

Thou couldst a people raise, but couldst not rule :

So, gentle one,

Heaven broke at last the consecrated tool

Whose work was done;

According thee the lot thou lovedst best,

To muse upon times past,—to serve, yet be at rest.

d.

XCVI.

BASIL.

BEAUTIFUL flowers round Wisdom's secret well,
Deep holy thoughts of penitential lore,

But dressed with images from Nature's store,
Handmaid of Piety. Like thine own cell
By Pontic mountain wilds and shaggy fell,
Great Basil! there, within thy lonely door,
Watching and Fast and Prayer and Penance dwell,
And sternly nursed Affections heavenward soar.
Without are setting suns and summer skies,
Ravine, rock, wood, and fountain melodies;

And Earth and Heaven, holding communion sweet,
Teem with wild beauty. Such thy calm retreat,
Blest Saint! and of thyself an emblem meet,
All fair without, within all stern and wise.

*

XCVII.

THE AFRICAN CHURCH.

The gifts and calling of God are without repentance.

THE lions prowl around, thy grave to guard,
And Moslem prayers profane

At morn and eve come sounding: yet unscar'd
The Holy Shades remain :.

Cyprian, thy chief of watchmen, wise and bold,
Trusting the lore of his own loyal heart,
And Cyprian's Master, as in age high-soul'd,
Yet choosing as in youth the better part.
There, too, unwearied Austin, thy keen gaze
On Atlas' steep, a thousand years and more,
Dwells, waiting for the first rekindling rays,

When Truth upon the solitary shore

For the fall'n West may light his beacon as of yore.

XCVIII.

HOOKER.

"The night is far spent, the day is at hand."

VOICE of the wise of old!

Go breathe thy thrilling whispers now

In cells where learned eyes late vigils hold,
And teach proud Science where to vail her brow.

Voice of the meekest man!

Now while the Church for combat arms,

Calmly do thou confirm her awful ban,

Thy words to her be conquering, soothing charms.

Voice of the fearless Saint!

Ring like a trump, where gentle hearts

:

Beat high for truth, but, doubting, cower and faint :Tell them, the hour is come, and they must take

their parts.

y.