The Walk. "Retiring from the populous noise, I seek NOT through the Queen of Cities' lordliest street, Of gray old colleges and gables steep, Where spire, and dome, and bridge, and gateway meet, Let us now turn our fashionable feet; But unobserv'd, not unobserving, creep Down by the bank, where the green willows weep The Chapel. "Lo! Discord at the altar dares to stand, Uplifting toward high heaven her fiery brand." How richly mellow'd through the painted glass The tranquil flood of solemn light pours down Upon each oaken stall's time-polished brown, On marble chequer'd floor, and desk of brass. Along the aisle, in spotless surplice, pass Student and Fellow, while yet lingering swell The last faint echoes of the vesper bell, With the same tones that summon'd erst to mass. That bind to thee thy Church! here chiefly rule! A Chapel Thought— Prayer. "And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer, Before all temples, the upright heart and pure, Instruct me." Paradise Lost. "Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost?" 1 Cor. vi. 19. "The truly holy soul which hath receiv'd The unattainable, can hallow hell. Each orb is to itself the heart of heaven; And each belief, wherein man roots his hope, And lives and dies, the favourite of God."-Festus. MAN's heart, God's holiest temple; and His rite Whether beneath the flush of morning skies, With humble, hopeful, though not fearless sight: Of self, with ruth for others' groans and sighs, SWEET is the fall of music on the ear, Vaguely and in brief snatches, as the wind A Chapel Thought. ON AN IVORY IMAGE OF THE VIRGIN MARY. "Yet some, I ween, Not unforgiven, the suppliant knee might bend, As to a visible Power, in which did blend All that was mix'd and reconcil'd in Thee, Of mother's love with maiden purity, WORDSWORTH. IT haunts me, how it haunts me, that sweet face It haunts me, how it haunts me, that sweet face,— Of hope and love, humility and pray'r. 'Tis not Art's dream, some sculptor-fancy's birth; But thee, Madonna, as thou wast on earth, |