Year: 1871

y
For his sins Of indecision.


Prayed for greater selfdenial,


In temptation and in trial


1t was MONDAY by the dial,
Ard the Monk was all alone.


Suddenly, as if it lightened,


An unwonted sp'endor Frightened
+ All wit hin him and without him


In that narrow cell of stone;


And he saw the Blessed Vision


OF our Lord, with light Elysian


Like vesture wrapped about him,


Like garment round him thrown.


Not as crucified and slain,


Not in agonies of pain,


Not with bleeding hands and feet,


Did the Monk, his Master see;
But as in the village street,


In the house or harvest field,
Halt and lame and blind he healed,
When he walked in Galilee.


In an attitude imploring.


Hancs upon his bosom crossed,


Wandering, worshipping, aaoring,
Knelt the Monk in rapture lost.


Lord, he thought, i'll Heaven that
reIgncst,


Who am 1, that thou deignest
To reveal thyself to me?


Who am l, that from the centre


OF thy glory, thou shouldst enter


This poor cell, my guest to be2


Then amidst his exaitation,


Loud the convent bell appealing,


From its belfry calling, calling,


Rang through court and corridor,


With persistent iteration.


He had never heard before.


It was now the appointed hour,


When alike, in shine or shower,


Winters's Gold or summers heat,
To the convent portals ,'ame,
All the blind and halt and lame,
All the beggars of the street,
For their daily dole OF food
Dealt them by the brotherhood;
And their almoner was he,


Who upon his bendcd knees,
Rapt in silent ecstasy
OF diyinest selfsurrender,
Saw the Vision and the splendor.
Deep distress and hesitation
Mingled with his alteration,
Should he go, or should he stay;
Should lie leave the poor to wait
Hungry at the convent gate.
Till the vision passed away2
Should he slight his heavenly CUES
Slight this visitant celestial,
For crowd of ragged, bestial
Bcggars at the convent gate =?


Would the Vision there remains
Would the Vision come again
Then a voice within his breast
Whispered, audible and Clear
AS if to the outward ear;



DO thy duty; that is best:
Leave unto thy Lord the rest y
Straightway to hi feet he started,-
And with IL longing look intent
On the blessed vision bent,
Slowly from his cell departed
Slowly on his errand went.
At the gate the poor were waiting,
Looking through the iron grating,
With that terror in the eye
That is only seen in those


Who amid their wants aud woes
Hear the sound of doors that close,
And of feet that pass them by;
Grown familiar with dislavor,
Grown familiar with the SAVIOR
Of the bread by which men die!
But to day, they knew not why,
Like the gate of Paradise
Seemed the convent gate to rise,
Like a sacrament divine
Seemed to them the bread and wine
In his heart the Monk was praying
Thinking of the homeless poor,
What they suffer and endure;
What we see not, what we see;
md the inward voice was saying:
"Whatsoever thing thou doest
To the least of mine and lowest,
That thou doest unto meP'
Unto me? but had the Vision
Come to him in beggar's clothing,
Come a mendicant inlp!oring,
Would he then have knelt adoring
Or have listened with derision,
And have turned away with loathing
Thus his conscience put the question
Full of troublesome suggestion,
AS at length, with hurried pace,
Toward his cell he turned his face,
And beheld the convent bright
With supernatural light,
Like luminous cloud expanding
Over floor and wall and ceiling.
But he paused with awe struck feeling
At the threshold of his door,