Lines on the Ceremonial Sandal of his Holiness.
Preserved At Burton Manor, Staffordshire,
The Seat Of Francis Whitgreave, Esq.
"How beauteous on the hills the feet of him"
('Tis thus Isaias sings)
"Who preaches heavenly peace, and brings to man
Glad tidings of good things!"
Christ first, his vicar now, to us fulfils
This gracious work of God;
No land by seas or mountains so concealed
But Peter there hath trod.
Hail, dearly-prized memorial, in late days
By our loved Pius worn!
Hail, emblem of the foot that walked the waves
In our redemption's morn!
Before the little cross embroided here
Princes have bended low,
And owned the presence of a greater power
Than the proud world can show.
Here love hath left a kiss; here guilt hath been.
Nor dropped her tear in vain
At his dear feet who can absolve all sins,
Or, when he wills, retain!
Here learning to the truthful Roman See
Hath noble homage paid;
Here to religion's lovelier majesty
Beauty hath bowed her head.
Oh! by this sacred relic here I swear,
As all my life shall prove,
To him who sits in Peter's holy chair
True loyalty and love.
E. Caswall.
Oratory, Birmingham.
The Labor Question.
Translated From Le Correspondant.
Address Of Rev. Father Hyacinthe
Before The Catholic Congress Of Malines.
Your Eminence, My Lords, And Gentlemen:
I will not attempt to conceal from you the emotion which thrills me. I behold and am dismayed. I am abashed before this assembly, which will presently give me inspiration. I speak before a prince of the church, who is also a prince of wisdom and virtue; before this illustrious circle of bishops, my fathers in the faith; before these eminent statesmen, masters of science and of eloquence, and I find this tribunal still warm and palpitating from the hands which have touched it and the words which have made it tremulous. I speak before this grand assemblage, convened from the four quarters of the world to discuss, upon this little spot of free ground that we call Belgium, the religious interests of the Catholics of two worlds. Gentlemen, I was alarmed at first, but I will fear no longer. I feel that I am not a stranger here; I meet brothers. Your acclamations I accept, for they are not addressed to the individual, who is nothing, but to the cause, which is grand; I had almost said, which is every thing. This cause I can define in two words—the Catholic Church, and the Catholic Church in the nineteenth century.
On that day which no priest forgets—on that day when, lying upon the pavement of the temple, I took for my only and virginal spouse the Holy Church of Jesus Christ; my lips in the dust, my eyes in tears, my heart in ecstacy and in thrills of rapture—I vowed in silence to love her well, and, if I could, to serve her well, not only in her grand past, which is no more, and in her glorious future, which is not yet come, but in her present, so sorrowful and so grand also; in her present, which is the product of the past ages of her history, and, consequently, the work of God.