'TWAS morning in Jerusalem,
The sun's red orient ray
Shone brightly on the dewdrops
Upon the grass that lay.
Dark was the deep still fountain
Of blest Bethesda's pool,
And women came with earthen jars
To draw its waters cool.
Upon the busy market-place,
Where many went and came, A poor dead dog lay stiff and cold, A dog without a name. And passers-by, with hard disdain, Looked down, and sniffed the air, On the poor prostrate shaggy form, With dew-besprinkled hair.
There might be seen the Levite
In sacerdotal pride,
Who with a cold and selfish glance
Passed on the other side.
And, with his broad phylactery,
Full many a Pharisee,
Who gathered up his garments,
Lest he defiled might be.
And many a sensual Sadducee,
With heavy leaden eye,
Who said the dog had been a thief,
And had deserved to die.
Harsh judgments passed from mouth to mouth,
And none a word could say
For the poor object of their scorn,
Unpitied there that lay.
Then there came One with brow divine,
And flowing golden hair,
A band of meek-eyed simple men
Followed His footsteps fair.
And as His garments brushed the flowers
That by the wayside lay,
It seemed as though the sunlight
Gained there a softer ray.
He paused, and looked upon the dog
With eyes benign and mild,
E'en as a mother gazes on
Some poor distorted child.
And, going on His way, He said,
With soft and gentle breath,
"No pearls are found to equal
The whiteness of his teeth."
And all the people marvelled
Who thus could be so kind,
As even in a poor dead dog
Some beauty yet to find.
They said it must be Jesus,
The Man of Galilee,
For no one else was gracious
And merciful as He.
And He indeed it was, the Great
Creator of us all,
The Lord of all the mighty,
And the Father of the small, Whose hand restrains the ocean,
Whose eye the sparrow heeds, Who sends a precious balm from heaven On every heart that bleeds.
HARK! the snowdrop bells are ringing,
For the birthday of the year ;—
Ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing :
"Trust in God, and do not fear."
Hopes and cares together blending,
Joys and crosses Heaven is sending,
Yet a blessing each doth bear
For the bright and glad New Year.
Hark! the sweet May bells are ringing,
Lilies of the valley fair ;-
Ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing :
"To our Lady breathe a prayer."
Spring to her is dedicated,
Hearts to Mary consecrated
Each a blessing bear away,
Their life is like a month of May.
Hark! the summer bells are ringing,
Blue-bells on the dewy sward ;-
Ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing :
"Now long toil gains bright reward."
Fields of ripened corn are bending,
So good works, to heaven ascending,
Stand like sheaves of golden grain,
At death our riches and our gain.
Hark! the capuchin is ringing,
In the quiet autumn day ;-
Ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing :
"For the souls departed pray."
Like the leaves around us falling,
Dying words for help are calling;
Pray for those poor souls so true,
So shall others pray for you.
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