, 1858-01-15
p o q e r X u
The Sister Of Charity.

We take from Hayes Collection of Irish
Ballads" the following beautiful lines, writ
ten by R. D. Williams, Esq, Protestant
gentleman who espoused the cause of the
Irish Patriots Of l84S. tits a Just tribute
to an order Of ladies who have, since theil
institution by Vincent de Paul, challenged
the admiration Of the world for their devo
tion to the cansc Of suffering mankind. ID
tho haunts Of human misery and degrade
ton; on the battlefield; in the plaguc-hos
pitals; at the couch of the dying outcast
the Sister Of Charity is to be found a min
istering angel. aud by her influence depriv.
ing death of its terrors, and raising the
thoughts of the sufferers to brighter and
better world:
Sister of Charity, gentle and dutiful,
Loving as seraphim, tender, and mild;
In humbleness strong and purity beautiful
In spirit heroic, in manners child
Ever thy love like an angel reposes,
With lowering wings DER the sufferer here,
Till the arrows Of death are half minded in roses
And hope-speaking prophecy smiles on the bier.
When life, like vapor is slowly retiring,
As clouds in the dawning to heavn uprolled,
Thy prayer, like 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 hundred.fold blessings descend on the then;
Thus the aowerabsorbed dew in the bright ir
glistens,
And returns to the lilies more richly again.
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 unfold thee
Sanctity's halo SO shrines the around,
Daring the eye that unshrinking behOlds the,
Nor drops in thy presence abashed TO the ground
Dim Is the fire Of the sunniest blushcs-
Burning the breast Of the maidenly rose
To the exquisite bloom that thy pale beauty Aushes
When the incense ascends and the sanctuary
glows;
And the music, that seems heavens language, is
peallng-
Alteration has bowed him in silence and sighs,
And man, interminglcd with angels, is feeling
The passionless rapture that comes from the skies
0! that this heart, whose unspeakable treasure
0flove hath been wasted so vany on clay,
Like thine, unallured by the phantom Of pleasure,
Could rend every earthly affection away.
And yet, in thy presence, the blows subsidng
Obey the strong effort Of reason and will,
And my soul, in her pristine tranquility gliding,
Is calm as when God babe the ocean be still.
Thy soothing, how gentle; thy pity, how tender!
Choirmusic thy voice is-thy step angelgrace,
And thy union with deity shrines in a splendor
subdued, but unearthly, thy spiritual face.
When the irail chains are broken, a captive thai
bound thee
Afar from thy home is the prison Of clay, -
Bride Of the Lamb, and earths shadows around thee
Disperse in the blaze of eternitys day.
Still mindful, as now, of the sufferers story,
AHesting the thunders Of wrath ere they roll,
lntervenes as q cloud between us and his glory,
And shield from his lightnings the shudderinE
soul.
As mild as the moonbeam in autumn descending,
That lightning extinguished by mercy, shall fall
While he hears with the wall of pentent blending
Thy prayer, Holy Daughter Of Vincent de Paul.