ST. JOHN BAPTIST'S DAY

Twice in her season of decay

The fallen Church hath felt Elijah's eye

Dart from the wild its piercing ray:

Not keener burns, in the chill morning sky,

The herald star,

Whose torch afar

Shadows and boding night-birds fly.

Methinks we need him once again,

That favoured seer — but where shall he be found?

By Cherith's side we seek in vain,

In vain on Carmel's green and lonely mound:

Angels no more

From Sinai soar,

On his celestial errands bound.

But wafted to her glorious place

By harmless fire, among the ethereal thrones,

His spirit with a dear embrace

Thee the loved harbinger of Jesus owns,

Well-pleased to view

Her likeness true,

And trace, in thine, her own deep tones.

Deathless himself, he joys with thee

To commune how a faithful martyr dies,

And in the blest could envy be,

He would behold thy wounds with envious eyes,

Star of our morn,

Who yet unborn

Didst guide our hope, where Christ should rise.

Now resting from your jealous care

For sinners, such as Eden cannot know,

Ye pour for us your mingled prayer,

No anxious fear to damp Affection's glow,

Love draws a cloud

From you to shroud

Rebellion's mystery here below.

And since we see, and not afar,

The twilight of the great and dreadful day,

Why linger, till Elijah's car

Stoop from the clouds? Why sheep ye? Rise and pray,

Ye heralds sealed

In camp or field

Your Saviour's banner to display.

Where is the lore the Baptist taught,

The soul unswerving and the fearless tongue?

The much-enduring wisdom, sought

By lonely prayer the haunted rocks among?

Who counts it gain

His light should wane,

So the whole world to Jesus throng?

Thou Spirit, who the Church didst lend

Her eagle wings, to shelter in the wild,

We pray Thee, ere the Judge descend,

With flames like these, all bright and undefiled,

Her watch-fires light,

To guide aright

Our weary souls by earth beguiled.

So glorious let thy Pastors shine,

That by their speaking lives the world may learn

First filial duty, then divine,

That sons to parents, all to Thee may turn;

And ready prove

In fires of love,

At sight of Thee, for aye to burn.