Donahoe's Magazine, Volume 15, No. 4, April, 1886

Transcriber's Note: The following Table of Contents has been added (not present in the original). Remaining transcriber's notes are at end of the text.

Vol. XV. BOSTON, APRIL, 1886. No. 4.
The future of the Irish race in this country, will depend largely upon their capability of assuming an independent attitude in American politics. —Right Rev. Doctor Ireland, St. Paul, Minn.
In a rare old Irish story, I have read with a tear and smile, Of a scene in a little chapel In Erin's far-off isle;
A little rustic chapel In a wild yet fair retreat, Where the hardy sons of the mountains On hallowed mornings meet.
The priest at the lighted altar Is reading the blessèd Mass; And the place is thronged from the chancel, Clear out to the churchyard-grass;
All kneeling, hush'd and expectant, Biding their chosen time, 'Till the bell of the Consecration Rings forth its solemn chime;
When lo! as the Host is lifted, The Chalice raised on high, Subdued yet clear, the people Send forth one rapturous cry:
Welcome! A thousand welcomes! (While many a tear-drop starts:) Welcome! Cead mille failthe! White Love of all our hearts!
Oh, the passionate warmth of that whisper! Oh, the grace of that greeting strong! On the tide of its glowing fervor, All hearts are borne along!
And the blaze of the Son of Justice Lights up that dim old spot, And kindles in every spirit A flame that dieth not!