University of Virginia Library


93

THE FONT.

Raise ye the sacred hand! and proudly shower
The rain of God upon the mortal flower!
Lo! One unseen shall in those waters blend,
And with a breathing dove's fond wing descend.
Suffer the little child! the wide, wide earth
Shall yield no happier hour for heavenly birth;
What fairer shrine can woo the God to rest
Than the meek altar of that infant breast?