they find Jesus waiting for them, and sweeter than ever, and again whispering

"Hadst thou staid I must have fled !"

This sentiment is beautifully expressed in a poetical legend by Henry W. Longfellow. It was published in the American Atlantic Monthly, and copied into the American Illustrated newspaper, the Cosmopolitan, from which I extract it and present it to

my

readers.

THE LEGEND BEAUTIFUL.

"Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled";

This is what the vision said.

In his chamber all alone,

Kneeling on the floor of stone,
Prayed the Monk in deep contrition
For his sins of indecision-
Prayed for greater self-denial
In temptation and in trial;
It was noonday by the dial,
And the Monk was all alone.

Suddenly, as if it lightened,
An unwonted splendour brightened
All within and without him
In that narrow cell of stone;
And he saw the Blessed Vision
Of our Lord, with light Elysian
Like a vesture wrapped about him,
Like a 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,

THE MONK IN RAPTURE.

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,

Hands upon his bosom crossed,
Wondering, worshipping, adoring,
Knelt the Monk in rapture lost.

Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest,
Who am I, that thus thou deignest

To reveal thyself to me?

Who am I, that from the centre
Of thy glory, thou shouldst enter
This poor cell, my guest to be?

Then amid his exaltation,
Loud the convent bell appalling,
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,
Winter's cold or Summer's heat,
To the convent portals came
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 bended knee,

Rapt in silent ecstasy

Of divinest self-surrender,

Saw the Vision and the Splendour.

Deep distress and hesitation

Mingled with his adoration;

Should he go, or should he stay?

Should he leave the poor to wait,

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164

THE CONVENT GATE.

Hungry at the convent gate,
Till the Vision passed away?
Should he slight his heavenly guest,
Slight this visitant celestial,
For a crowd of ragged, bestial
Beggars at the convent gate?
Would the Vision there remain?
Would the Vision come again?

Then a voice within his breast
Whispered, audibly and clear
As if to the outward ear:
"Do thy duty; that is best-
Leave unto thy Lord the rest!"
Straightway to his feet he started,
And with 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 an iron grating,
With that terror in the eye
That is only seen in those

Who amid their wants and woes

Hear the sounds of doors that close

And of feet that pass them by;
Grown familiar with disfavour,
Grown familiar with the savour
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;
And the inward voice was saying:

MYSTICAL MEANING.

165

"Whatsoever thing thou doest

To the least of mine and lowest,
That thou doest unto me!"

Unto me! but had the Vision
Come to him in beggar's clothing,
Come a mendicant imploring,
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,
Towards his cell he turned his face,
And beheld the convent bright
With a supernatural light,

Like a luminous cloud expanding
Over floor and wall and ceiling.

But he paused with awe-struck feeling

At the threshold of his door,
For the Vision still was standing

As he left it there before,
When the convent bell appalling,
From its belfry calling, calling,
Summoned him to feed the poor.
Through the long hour intervening
It had waited his return,
And he felt his bosom burn,
Comprehending all the meaning,
When the Blessed Vision said,

"Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled !"

166

WONDERS OF ATOMS.

The Providence of God-Atomic
Creation.

ESTERDAY the mighty dome of St. Peter's
suggested reflections on the wonders of vision,
and afterwards led me to contemplate the
immensity of God manifested in the great

orbs of our planetary system, and the clustered moles of the distant nebula floating through the regions of infinite space. To-day I passed a pretty little speckled lizard on an old wall, basking in the sunshine, which taught me that the Omnipotence of the Almighty is equally apparent in small things as in great, and the solicitude of His divine providence not less impressively inculcated in observing insect and atomic creation. This led me on a new train of thought.

The might of the Omnipotent Fabricator is displayed not merely in those mighty orbs which at incalculable distances float through ether, and perform their intricate evolutions with unerring accuracy, but is equally manifested in those minute creations, discharging all their complicated constitutional functions, revealed to us through the wonders of the microscope. The magnifying powers of the microscope enable us to discern animalculæ not more than the 10,000th part of an inch in length. Now, if these be half as broad as they are long, a cubic inch would afford sufficient space to contain four millions of millions of these creatures, possessing life and motion for certain, and probably a skeleton of bones, sinews, all the chemical operations of a stomach assimilation and circulation of blood as perfect as in our systems! "And God doth preserve them! why am I solicitous !-am not I of much