Good Friday
O Heart of Three-in-the evening,
You nestled the thorn-crowned head;
He leaned on you in His sorrow,
And rested on you when dead.
Ah! Holy Three-in-the evening
He gave you His richest dower;
He met you afar on Calvary,
And made you "His own last hour".
O Brow of Three-in-the evening,
Thou wearest a crimson crown;
Thou art Priest of the hours forever,
And thy voice, as thou goest down
The cycles of time, still murmurs
The story of love each day:
"I held in death the Eternal,
In the long and the far-away."
O Heart of Three-in-the evening,
Mine beats with thine to-day;
Thou tellest the olden story,
I kneel — and I weep and pray.
____ Boulogne, sur mer.
My Beads
Sweet, blessed beads! I would not part
With one of you for richest gem
That gleams in kingly diadem;
Ye know the history of my heart.
For I have told you every grief
In all the days of twenty years,
And I have moistened you with tears,
And in your decades found relief.