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THE ARMY OF THE LORD.

V.

They are come where all are kneeling at the shrines of wealth and

pride,

And an old and martyred Bishop is their comrade and their guide: To tell the toil-worn negro of freedom and repose,

O'er the vast Atlantic's bosom they are called by sweet St. Rose.

VI.

They are gone where Love is frozen, and Faith grown calm and cold, Where the world is all triumphant, and the sheep have left the fold, Where His children scorn His blessings, and His sacred Shrines

despise,

And the beacon of the warriors is the light in Mary's eyes.

VII.

The bugle for their battle is the matin bell for prayer;
And for their noble standard Christ's holy Cross they bear;
His sacred name their war-cry, 't is in vain what ye can do,
They must conquer, for your Angels are leaguing with them too.

VIII.

Would you know, O World, these warriors? Go where the poor, the old,

Ask for pardon and for heaven, and you offer food and gold;
With healing and with comfort, with words of peace and prayer,
Bearing His greatest gift to man, - Christ's chosen priests are there.

IX.

Where sin and crime are dwelling, hid from the light of day,
And life and hope are fading at Death's cold touch away,
Where dying eyes in horror see the long-forgotten past,
Christ's servants claim the sinner, and gain his soul at last.

X.

Where the rich and proud and mighty God's message would defy, In warning and reproof His anointed ones stand by:

Bright are the crowns of glory God keepeth for His own,

Their life one sigh for heaven, and their aim His will alone.

THE ARMY OF THE LORD.

XI.

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And see sweet Mercy's sister, where the poor and wretched dwell, In gentle accents telling of Him she loves so well;

Training young hearts to serve their Lord, and place their hope in Heaven,

Bidding her erring sisters love much and be forgiven.

XII.

And where in cloistered silence dim the Brides of Jesus dwell,

Where purest incense rises up from every lowly cell,

They plead not vainly, they have chosen and gained the better part, And given their gentle life away to Him who has their heart.

XIII.

And some there are among us - the path which they have trod

Of sin and pain and anguish has led at last to God:

They plead, and Christ will hear them, that the poor slaves who pine In the bleak dungeon they have left, may see His truth divine.

XIV.

O, who can tell how many hearts are altars to His praise,

From which the silent prayer ascends through patient nights and days:

The sacrifice is offered still in secret and alone,

O World, ye do not know them, but He can help His own.

XV.

They are with us, His true soldiers, they come in power and might; Glorious the crown which they shall gain after the heavenly fight; And you, perchance, who scoff, may yet their rest and glory share, As the rich spoil of their battle and the captives of their prayer.

XVI.

O, who shall tell the wonder of that great day of rest,
When even in this place of strife His soldiers are so blest:

O World, O Earth, why strive ye? join the low chant they sing, "O Grave, where is thy victory! O Death, where is thy sting!

THE SACRED HEART.

What wouldst thou, trembling They are too bright to know