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Whence God incarnate came
Some thund'rous message roll?
Nay,
This have I heard, His voice within my soul.
What hast thou felt to-day?
The pinions of the Angel-guide
That standeth at thy side
In rapturous ardours beat,
Glowing, from head to feet,
In ecstasy divine?
Nay,
This only have I felt, Christ's hand in mine.
THE TERESIAN CONTEMPLATIVE
By Robert Hugh Benson
She moves in tumult; round her lies
The silence of the world of grace;
The twilight of our mysteries
Shines like high noonday on her face;
Our piteous guesses, dim with fears, She touches, handles, sees, and hears.
In her all longings mix and meet;
Dumb souls through her are eloquent;
She feels the world beneath her feet
Thrill in a passionate intent;
Through her our tides of feeling roll And find their God within her soul.
