To suffer and to do.
And who shall say, but hateful spirits around,
For their brief hour unbound,
Shudder to see, and wail their overthrow?
While on far heathen ground
Some lonely Saint hails the fresh odour, though
Its source he cannot know?
THE SON OF GOD
By Charles L. O’Donnell, C.S.C.
The fount of Mary’s joy