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The future, how its shadows fall

Upon my sinking heart, Each passing murmur seems to breathe,

Soon, soon, she will depart. How lonely, oh, how lonely,

Our father's hearth will be, For every memory, as it floats,

Will bring back thoughts of thcc.

But it is worse than useless,

These fond but vain regrets, Why should my spirit anguish,

That thine hath found its rest. Then go, sweet sister, word of mine

Shall never bid thee stay, When God hath whispered to the heart,

Its mandate is obey.

We yield thee, Lord, our treasure,

But let this hope remain,
That in a world of changeless love,

Our souls shall meet again.

AVE SANCTISSIMA.

Mater celorum, sweet virgin ever blest,
Ave sanctissima, oh, hear a heart oppressed;

Guide thou thy pleading child,

Wandering on life's stormy sea,
Shield her with thy saving love,

And bring her safe to thee.
Bend down thy loving eye,

Grant her thy pitying car
To thee in hope we fly,

Oh, virgin mother hear.
Ave mater ave,

Hear our lonely cry,
Sancte Mater Dei,

Mother ever nigh.

Sancte Maria, to thee it hath been given,
Aid to lead the recreant thro' mercy's gate to

Heaven;

By that holy grace conferred,
Thro' that glorious son adored,
Hear thou our fervent prayer.
Mother of our Lord.

Through the darkness of the night,
Pray that calm our slumbers be,
Fill our hearts with holy love,

For Jesus and for thee.

Arc matcr ave,
Hear our lonely cry,
Sanctc Mater Dei,
Mother ever nigh.

CHRISTMAS MORN.

“In some parts of Germany it is a custom for aged men enveloped in long cloaks to go from house to house on Christmas morn, and announce the birth of Christ. They remind one in their appearance

of the description of Palmer's, from the Holy Land.” They are regarded as such in the following:

Ho, Christian knights and gentlemen, I pray ye

listen well, For I have traveled many a league, a story strange

to tell, Of one who left His Father's hall, his home and

high estate, The glory and the honor which no tongue could

c'er relate.

To an humble babe, with scarce a shelter old, To shield his tender helplessness from misery and

cold, No trappings He of costly silk, no bed of eider

down, His cradle crib a manger, upon His head no crown.

Yet monarch He of Heaven and earth, for on this

happy day, An angel band with joy elate, proclaims the attesting

lay,

And still the burden of their song from glowing

eve till morn,

Is glory be to God on high, for Christ our King is

born.

And from a far off distant land, skilled in prophetic

lore, With sandal shoon and scallop shell placed in each

hat before,

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