And before that humble Altar
Where Our Lady of Sorrow stands,
I knelt with a weary longing,

And I laid a vow in her hands.

And I know, when I enter softly

And pause at that shrine to pray, That the fret and the strife and the burden Will be softened and laid away.

And the Prayer and the Vow that sealed it
Have bound my soul to that shrine,
For the Mother of Sorrows remembers
Her promise, and waits for mine.

It is one long chaplet of memories
Tender and true and sweet,

That gleam in the Past and the Distance
Like lamps that burn at her feet.

Like stars that will shine forever,
For time cannot touch or stir
The graces that Mary has given,

Or the trust that we give to her.

Past griefs are perished and over,

Past joys have vanished and died, Past loves are fled and forgotten, Past hopes have been laid aside.

Past fears have faded in daylight,
Past sins have melted in tears;

One Love and Remembrance only
Seems alive in those dead old years.

So wherever I look in the distance,
And whenever I turn to the Past,
There is always a shrine of Mary
Each brighter still than the last.

I will ask for one grace, O Mother!
And will leave the rest to thy will:
From one shrine of thine to another,
Let my Life be a Pilgrimage still!

At each one, O Mother of Mercy!
Let still more of thy love be given,
Till I kneel at the last and brightest,
The Throne of the Queen of Heaven.

THE HOMELESS POOR.

ALM the city lay in midnight silence,
Deep on streets and roofs the snow
lay white;

Then I saw an Angel spread his pinions
Rising up to Heaven to meet the night.

In his hands he bore two crowns of lilies, Sweet with sweetness not of earthly flowers, But a coronal of prayers for Heaven

He had gathered through the evening hours;

He had gathered in that mighty city

Through whose streets and pathways he had trod, Till he wove into a winter garland

Prayers that faithful hearts had sent to God.

Through the azure midnight he was rising;
As I watched, I saw his upward flight
Checked by a mighty Angel, whose stern challenge,
Like a silver blast, rang through the night.

Then strange words upon the silence broke,
And I listened as the Angels spoke.

THE ANGEL OF PRAYERS.

"I have come from wandering through the city,
I have been to seek a garland meet
To be placed before His throne in Heaven,
To be laid at His dear Mother's feet.

"I have been to one of England's Havens,
To a HOME for peace and honor planned,
Where the kindly lights of joy and duty
Meet and make the glory of the land.

"There I heard the ring of children's laughter
Hushed to eager silence; I could see
How the father stroked their golden tresses
As they clustered closer round his knee.

"And I heard him tell, with loving honor,
How the wanderers to Bethlehem came,
And I saw each head in reverence bowing

When he named the Holy Child's dear name.

"Then he told how houseless, homeless, friendless,
They had wandered wearily and long,
Of the manger where our Lord was cradled,
Of the Shepherds listening to our song.

"As he spoke, I heard his accents falter, And I saw each childish heart was stirred With a loving throb of tender pity

At the sorrowful, sweet tale they heard.

"As the children sang their Christmas carol
I could see the mother's eyes grow dim,
And she held her baby closer, — feeling
Most for Mary through her love for him.

"So I gathered from that home, as flowers,
All the tender, loving words I heard
Given this night to Jesus and to Mary,
Look at them, and say if I have erred."

THE ANGEL OF DEEDS.

"In that very street, at that same hour, In the bitter air and drifting sleet, Crouching in a doorway was a mother,

With her children shuddering at her feet.

"She was silent; who would hear her pleading? Men and beasts were housed; but she must stay Houseless in the great and pitiless city,

Till the dawning of the winter day.

"Homeless - while her fellow-men are resting Calm and blest: their very dogs are fed,

Warm and sheltered, and their sleeping children Safely nestled in each little bed.

"She can only draw her poor rags closer Round her wailing baby, closer hold

One, the least and sickliest,

while the others

Creep together, tired, hungry, cold.

"What are these poor flowers thou hast gathered? Cast such fragile, worthless tokens by:

Will He prize mere words of love and honor
While His Homeless Poor are left to die?

"He has said - His truths are all eternal
What He said both has been and shall be, -
What have not done to these my poor ones,
ye
Lo! ye have not done it unto Me.”

Then I saw the Angel with the flowers
Bow his head and answer, "It is well,"
As he cast a wreath of lilies earthward,
And I saw them wither as they fell.

Once again the Angel raised his head,
Smiled and showed the other wreath and said :

THE ANGEL OF PRAYERS.

“I have been where, kneeling at the Altar,
Hushed in reverent awe, a faithful throng
Have this night adored the Holy Presence,
Worshipping with incense, prayer, and song.