LXXXI.—THE SISTER OF CHARITY.WILLIAMS.Richard Dalton Williams was born in Ireland. He had been for several years previous to his death, Professor of Belles Letters in the Catholic College, Mobile. His poems all bear the unmistakable stamp of poetic genius.
WILLIAMS.
Richard Dalton Williams was born in Ireland. He had been for several years previous to his death, Professor of Belles Letters in the Catholic College, Mobile. His poems all bear the unmistakable stamp of poetic genius.
1. Sister of Charity, gentle and dutiful,Loving as seraphim, tender and mild,In humbleness strong, and in purity beautiful,In spirit heroic, in manners a child,Ever thy love like an angel reposes,—With hovering wings o’er the sufferer here,Till the arrows of death are half-hidden in roses,And hope-speaking prophecy smiles on the bier.2. When life, like a vapor, is slowly retiring,As clouds in the dawning to heaven uprolled,Thy prayer, like a herald, precedes him expiring,And the Cross on thy bosom his last looks behold;And O! as the Spouse to thy words of love listens,What hundredfold blessings descend on thee then—Thus the flower-absorbed dew in the bright iris glistens,And returns to the lilies more richly again.3. Sister of Charity, child of the holiest,O, for thy living soul, ardent as pure—Mother of orphans and friend of the lowliest—Stay of the wretched, the guilty, the poor;The embrace of the Godhead so plainly enfolds theeSanctity’s halo so shrines thee around,Daring the eye that unshrinking beholds thee,Nor droops in thy presence abashed to the ground.4. Dim is the fire of the sunniest blushes,Burning the breast of the maidenly roseTo the exquisite bloom that thy pale beauty flushes,When the incense ascends and the sanctuary glows,And the music, that seems heaven’s language, is pealing—Adoration has bowed him in silence and sighs,And man, intermingled with angels, is feelingThe passionless rapture that comes from the skies.5. O, that this heart, whose unspeakable treasureOf love hath been wasted so vainly on clay,Like thine, unallured by the phantom of pleasure,Could rend every earthly affection away.And yet, in thy presence, the billows subsidingObey the strong effort of reason and will,And my soul, in her pristine tranquillity gliding,Is calm as when God bade the ocean be still.6. Thy soothing, how gentle! thy pity, how tender!Choir-music thy voice is—thy step angel grace,And thy union with deity shrines in a splendorSubdued, but unearthly, thy spiritual face.When the frail chains are broken, a captive that bound thee,Afar from thy home is the prison of clay,Bride of the Lamb, and earth’s shadows around theeDisperse in the blaze of eternity’s day.7. Still mindful, as now, of the sufferer’s story,Arresting the thunders of wrath ere they roll,Intervene as a cloud between us and His glory,And shield from His lightnings the shuddering soul.As mild as the moonbeam in autumn descendingThat lightning, extinguished by mercy, shall fall,While he hears, with the wail of a penitent blending,Thy prayer, Holy Daughter of Vincent de Paul.
1. Sister of Charity, gentle and dutiful,Loving as seraphim, tender and mild,In humbleness strong, and in purity beautiful,In spirit heroic, in manners a child,Ever thy love like an angel reposes,—With hovering wings o’er the sufferer here,Till the arrows of death are half-hidden in roses,And hope-speaking prophecy smiles on the bier.2. When life, like a vapor, is slowly retiring,As clouds in the dawning to heaven uprolled,Thy prayer, like a herald, precedes him expiring,And the Cross on thy bosom his last looks behold;And O! as the Spouse to thy words of love listens,What hundredfold blessings descend on thee then—Thus the flower-absorbed dew in the bright iris glistens,And returns to the lilies more richly again.3. Sister of Charity, child of the holiest,O, for thy living soul, ardent as pure—Mother of orphans and friend of the lowliest—Stay of the wretched, the guilty, the poor;The embrace of the Godhead so plainly enfolds theeSanctity’s halo so shrines thee around,Daring the eye that unshrinking beholds thee,Nor droops in thy presence abashed to the ground.4. Dim is the fire of the sunniest blushes,Burning the breast of the maidenly roseTo the exquisite bloom that thy pale beauty flushes,When the incense ascends and the sanctuary glows,And the music, that seems heaven’s language, is pealing—Adoration has bowed him in silence and sighs,And man, intermingled with angels, is feelingThe passionless rapture that comes from the skies.5. O, that this heart, whose unspeakable treasureOf love hath been wasted so vainly on clay,Like thine, unallured by the phantom of pleasure,Could rend every earthly affection away.And yet, in thy presence, the billows subsidingObey the strong effort of reason and will,And my soul, in her pristine tranquillity gliding,Is calm as when God bade the ocean be still.6. Thy soothing, how gentle! thy pity, how tender!Choir-music thy voice is—thy step angel grace,And thy union with deity shrines in a splendorSubdued, but unearthly, thy spiritual face.When the frail chains are broken, a captive that bound thee,Afar from thy home is the prison of clay,Bride of the Lamb, and earth’s shadows around theeDisperse in the blaze of eternity’s day.7. Still mindful, as now, of the sufferer’s story,Arresting the thunders of wrath ere they roll,Intervene as a cloud between us and His glory,And shield from His lightnings the shuddering soul.As mild as the moonbeam in autumn descendingThat lightning, extinguished by mercy, shall fall,While he hears, with the wail of a penitent blending,Thy prayer, Holy Daughter of Vincent de Paul.
1. Sister of Charity, gentle and dutiful,Loving as seraphim, tender and mild,In humbleness strong, and in purity beautiful,In spirit heroic, in manners a child,Ever thy love like an angel reposes,—With hovering wings o’er the sufferer here,Till the arrows of death are half-hidden in roses,And hope-speaking prophecy smiles on the bier.
1. Sister of Charity, gentle and dutiful,
Loving as seraphim, tender and mild,
In humbleness strong, and in purity beautiful,
In spirit heroic, in manners a child,
Ever thy love like an angel reposes,—
With hovering wings o’er the sufferer here,
Till the arrows of death are half-hidden in roses,
And hope-speaking prophecy smiles on the bier.
2. When life, like a vapor, is slowly retiring,As clouds in the dawning to heaven uprolled,Thy prayer, like a herald, precedes him expiring,And the Cross on thy bosom his last looks behold;And O! as the Spouse to thy words of love listens,What hundredfold blessings descend on thee then—Thus the flower-absorbed dew in the bright iris glistens,And returns to the lilies more richly again.
2. When life, like a vapor, is slowly retiring,
As clouds in the dawning to heaven uprolled,
Thy prayer, like a herald, precedes him expiring,
And the Cross on thy bosom his last looks behold;
And O! as the Spouse to thy words of love listens,
What hundredfold blessings descend on thee then—
Thus the flower-absorbed dew in the bright iris glistens,
And returns to the lilies more richly again.
3. Sister of Charity, child of the holiest,O, for thy living soul, ardent as pure—Mother of orphans and friend of the lowliest—Stay of the wretched, the guilty, the poor;The embrace of the Godhead so plainly enfolds theeSanctity’s halo so shrines thee around,Daring the eye that unshrinking beholds thee,Nor droops in thy presence abashed to the ground.
3. Sister of Charity, child of the holiest,
O, for thy living soul, ardent as pure—
Mother of orphans and friend of the lowliest—
Stay of the wretched, the guilty, the poor;
The embrace of the Godhead so plainly enfolds thee
Sanctity’s halo so shrines thee around,
Daring the eye that unshrinking beholds thee,
Nor droops in thy presence abashed to the ground.
4. Dim is the fire of the sunniest blushes,Burning the breast of the maidenly roseTo the exquisite bloom that thy pale beauty flushes,When the incense ascends and the sanctuary glows,And the music, that seems heaven’s language, is pealing—Adoration has bowed him in silence and sighs,And man, intermingled with angels, is feelingThe passionless rapture that comes from the skies.
4. Dim is the fire of the sunniest blushes,
Burning the breast of the maidenly rose
To the exquisite bloom that thy pale beauty flushes,
When the incense ascends and the sanctuary glows,
And the music, that seems heaven’s language, is pealing—
Adoration has bowed him in silence and sighs,
And man, intermingled with angels, is feeling
The passionless rapture that comes from the skies.
5. O, that this heart, whose unspeakable treasureOf love hath been wasted so vainly on clay,Like thine, unallured by the phantom of pleasure,Could rend every earthly affection away.And yet, in thy presence, the billows subsidingObey the strong effort of reason and will,And my soul, in her pristine tranquillity gliding,Is calm as when God bade the ocean be still.
5. O, that this heart, whose unspeakable treasure
Of love hath been wasted so vainly on clay,
Like thine, unallured by the phantom of pleasure,
Could rend every earthly affection away.
And yet, in thy presence, the billows subsiding
Obey the strong effort of reason and will,
And my soul, in her pristine tranquillity gliding,
Is calm as when God bade the ocean be still.
6. Thy soothing, how gentle! thy pity, how tender!Choir-music thy voice is—thy step angel grace,And thy union with deity shrines in a splendorSubdued, but unearthly, thy spiritual face.When the frail chains are broken, a captive that bound thee,Afar from thy home is the prison of clay,Bride of the Lamb, and earth’s shadows around theeDisperse in the blaze of eternity’s day.
6. Thy soothing, how gentle! thy pity, how tender!
Choir-music thy voice is—thy step angel grace,
And thy union with deity shrines in a splendor
Subdued, but unearthly, thy spiritual face.
When the frail chains are broken, a captive that bound thee,
Afar from thy home is the prison of clay,
Bride of the Lamb, and earth’s shadows around thee
Disperse in the blaze of eternity’s day.
7. Still mindful, as now, of the sufferer’s story,Arresting the thunders of wrath ere they roll,Intervene as a cloud between us and His glory,And shield from His lightnings the shuddering soul.As mild as the moonbeam in autumn descendingThat lightning, extinguished by mercy, shall fall,While he hears, with the wail of a penitent blending,Thy prayer, Holy Daughter of Vincent de Paul.
7. Still mindful, as now, of the sufferer’s story,
Arresting the thunders of wrath ere they roll,
Intervene as a cloud between us and His glory,
And shield from His lightnings the shuddering soul.
As mild as the moonbeam in autumn descending
That lightning, extinguished by mercy, shall fall,
While he hears, with the wail of a penitent blending,
Thy prayer, Holy Daughter of Vincent de Paul.