"I sit in corners of the house

Where none can see me weep; And in the quiet of the day,

"Tis here I often creep.

"The kid leaps by his mother's side,
The singing birds are glad:
But when I play me in the sun,
My heart is ever sad.

"They say this blessed book can heal

All trouble, and therefore
All day I keep it in my sight;
I lay it 'neath my head at night,
But it doth bring no cure to me:—
I know not what the cause may be,

For I of learning have no store!"

Thereat, like to a broken flower,

The child drooped down his head; Then Marien took the clasped book, And of the Saviour read.

She read of him, the humble child
Of poverty and scorn;
How holy angels sang for him

The night that he was born.

How blessed angels came from heaven
To hail the Christmas night,
And shepherd people with their flocks
Beheld the glorious sight.

Then read she how, a growing youth,

His parents he obeyed,

And served, with unrepining will,
St. Joseph at his trade.

Then how he grew to man's estate,
And wandered up and down,
Preaching upon the lone sea-side,
And in the busy town.

Of all his tenderness, his love,
Page after page she read;

How he made whole the sick, the maimed,
And how he raised the dead.

And how he loved the children small,
Even of low degree;

And how he blessed them o'er and o'er,

And set them on his knee.

When this the little child had heard,

He spoke in accents low,

"Would that I had been one with them To have been blessed so!"

"Thou shalt be blessed, gentle one!

Said Marien kind and mild,

n

"Christ, the Great Comforter, doth bless Thee, even now, poor child!"

So conversed they of holy things
Until the closing day;

Then Marien and the little child

Rose up to go their

way.

As to the town they came, they passed An ancient church; and "here Let us go in!" the pale child said, “For the organ pealeth over head, And that sweet strain of holy sound Like a heavenly vesture wraps me round, And my heavy heart doth cheer."

So Marien and the little child

Into the church they stole;

And many voices rich and soft
Rose upward from the organ loft,
And the majestic instrument

Pealed to an anthem that was sent

To soothe a troubled soul.

Anon the voices died away,

The pealing organ ceased,

And through the church's ancient door Passed chorister and priest.

And Marien and the little child
Went forward hand in hand
Adown the chancel aisle, and then
At once they made a stand.

Over the altar hung a piece
With holy influence fraught,
A work divine of wondrous skill
By some old painter wrought.

The gracious Saviour breathing love,
Was there like life expressed,

And round his knees the children small
Were thronging to be blessed.

Down dropped the child upon his knees,
And weeping, tenderly

Cried "bless me, also, poor and weak,
Or let me go to thee!"

Anon his little head dropped low,
And his white lips 'gan to say,
"Oh kiss me gentle one, for now
Even I am called away -

The blessed mother's voice I hear,
It calleth me away!"

So died the child;- and Marien laid
His meek arms on his breast,

With the clasped book between his hands
Thus God had given him rest!

And Marien, weeping holy tears,
Sate down beside the dead,

And slept that night within the church,
As in a kingly bed.

Scarce from the church had Marien passed,
When came the father there,

As was his wont, though fierce and bad,
To say a morning prayer!

Not seven paces had he gone,
When, heart-struck, he surveyed
Before his feet, that little child,
In his dead beauty, laid.

At once as by a lightning stroke
His softened soul was torn

With a deep sense of all the wrong
That little child had borne.

And then came back the timid voice,

The footstep faint and low,
The many little arts to please,
The look of hopeless wo,
And many a shuddering memory
Of harsh rebuke and blow.

No prayer of self-approving words,
As was his wont, he said,

But humbled, weeping, self-condemned,
He stood before the dead.

PART IV.

TEN long days' travel Marien went,
O'er woodland and o'er wold,
Teaching and preaching by the way,
Like Jesus Christ of old.

Sometimes within the baron's hall

A lodging she would find, And never went she from the door But blessings staid behind; Proud foes forgiven, revenge withheld. And plenteous peace of mind.