Tuesday in Whitsun Week.
“I am the Door ------ I am come that they may have life, and
that they might have it more abundantly.”
—Gospel for the Day.
All growth is God in mystery;
For who, in nature, or in grace,
The sightless Hand of Deity
In this deep work can rightly trace?
The mode, the measure, and the plan
Whereby the germs of heaven begin,
Baffle the boundless pride of Man
Seduced by intellectual sin.
Thus may it be, when infant-souls
Baptismally by Christ renew'd
Their sacramental Lord controls,
And works the inward grace He would.
The darlings of the Spirit seem,
To hearts with rude emotion rife,—
Unvisited by voice, or dream
That symbols more than mortal life.
They lisp, and prattle, play and smile,
As lovingly their dawning powers,
Embodied by some baby-wile,
Attract us in delighted hours.
But, soon will deeper shades begin
To mantle over brow and cheek,
And tokens of The Christ within,
Adumbrate more than lips can speak.
Ah! who can tell, how grace divine
Incorporates with early thought
That hidden spell, of which no sign
To Manhood's blunted mind is brought?
Enough for saints, this truth to know,—
That infancy to Christ was dear,
Who, when on earth, a Man of woe,
Bade faith itself that Age revere.
Thus, to the Font our babes we bring,
Assured that He is present there,
And, under His almighty wing
Leave them to grow, in love and prayer.
