5 One half from earth, one half from heaven,
Was that mysterious blessing given;
Just as his life had been

One half in heaven, one half on earth,
Of earthly toil and heavenly mirth
A wondrous woven scene!

6 O Jesus, Mary, Joseph, bide,
With kind St. Raphael, by my side,
When death shall come for me;
And, Philip! leave me not that day,
But let my spirit pass away,
Leaning, dear Sire, on thee!

48.

St. Martin and St. Philip.

PART I.

1 How gently flow the silent years,
The seasons one by one!

How sweet to feel each month that goes,
That life must soon be done!

20 weary ways of earth and men !
O self more weary still!
How vainly do you vex the heart
That none but God can fill!

3 It is not weariness of life

That makes us wish to die ;

But we are drawn by cords which come
From out eternity.

4 Eye has not seen, ear has not heard,
No heart of man can tell

The store of joys God has prepared
For those who love Him well.

5 O may those joys one day be ours,
Upon that happy shore!

And yet those joys are not enough—
We crave for something more.

PART II.

6 The world's unkindness grows with life, And troubles never cease;

'Twere lawful, then, to wish to die,
Simply to be at peace.

7 Yes! peace is something more than joy,
Even the joys above;
For peace, of all created things,
Is likest Him we love.

8 But not for joy, nor yet for peace,
Dare we desire to die;

God's will on earth is always joy,
Always tranquillity.

9 To die, that we might sin no more,
Were scarce a hero's prayer;
And glory grows as grace matures,
And patience loves to bear.

10 And yet we long and long to die,
We covet to be free;

Not for thy great rewards, O God!
Nor for Thy peace-but Thee!

11 O call not this a selfish love,
A turning from the fight;
O tell us not, for others' sakes,
To doubt if this be right.

12 If he were wanted for his Lord,
St. Martin prayed to stay:
'Twas well; and yet it was a prayer
St. Philip would not pray.

13 O leave us, then, at peace to greet
Each waxing waning moon,

Whose silver light seems aye to say-
Soon, exile spirit! soon!

St. Vincent of Paul.

PART I.

10 BLESSED Father! sent by God,
His mercy to dispense,

Thy hand is out o'er all the earth
Like God's own providence.

2 There is no grief or care of men
Thou dost not own for thine,
No broken heart thou dost not fill
With mercy's oil and wine.

3 Thy miracles are works of love;
Thy greatest is to make

Room in a day for toils, that weeks
In other men would take.

4 All cries of suffering through the earth Upon thy mercy call,

As though thou wert, like God Himself,
A Father unto all.

5 Dear Saint! not in the wilderness
Thy fragrant virtues bloom,
But in the city's crowded haunts,
The alley's cheerless gloom:

6 The Father of the childless old,
The lonesome widow's stay,
The gladness of the orphan groups
Out in the streets at play.

7 Yet not unto the towns confined
The gifts thy mercy gave,
The gospel to the villager,
His freedom to the slave.

8 So for the sake of timid souls,
And love of winning ways,

Thou didst against hard-hearted schools Thy gentle protest raise.

H

9 For charity anointed thee

O'er want, and woe, and pain;
And she hath crowned thee emperor
Of all her wide domain.

PART II.

10 Vincent! like Mother Mary, thou
Art no one's patron saint;

Eyes to the blind, health to the sick,
And life to those who faint.

11 Of body and of soul alike
Thou art physician wise,
And full of joy as if thou wert
Raphael in mortal guise.

12 The poor thou savest by such charms
As hardest hearts can move,-
The rich by teaching them to do
The saving works of love.

13 Saint of wide-open arms, and heart
Capacious as a sea,

In dead of night a thousand lips
Are sweetly blessing thee:

14 In orphanage, in hospital,
The sick on garret-bed,
The dying, and the desolate
Who weep beside the dead.

15 Thou seem'st to have a thousand hands, And in each hand a heart;

And all the hearts a precious balm
Like dew from God impart.

16 So thou belongest unto all,
And all belong to thee;
And we in him Thy pity praise,
Most Holy Trinity!

St. Patrick's Day.

1 ALL praise to St. Patrick, who brought to our mountains

The gift of God's faith, the sweet light of
His love!

All praise to the shepherd who showed us the fountains

That rise in the Heart of the Saviour above!
For hundreds of years,

In smiles and in tears,

Our saint hath been with us, our shield and our stay;

All else may have gone,—

St. Patrick alone

He hath been to us light when earth's lights were all set,

For the glories of faith they can never decay; And the best of our glories is bright with us yet, In the faith and the feast of St. Patrick's Day.

2 There is not a saint in the bright courts of heaven

More faithful than he to the land of his

choice;

Oh, well may the nation to whom he was given, In the feast of their sire and apostle rejoice! In glory above,

True to his love,

He keeps the false faith from his children away: The dark false faith,

Far worse than death

O he drives it far off from the green sunny

shore,

Like the reptiles which fled from his curse in dismay;

And Erin, when error's proud triumph is o'er, Will still be found keeping St. Patrick's

Day.