In very pity for our thrall,

He thus becomes the criminal;

Made 'neath the law, He hastes its yoke to bear,
That from that yoke He may His people spare.

The law is slain by that same sword

By which it dares to smite the Lord; A holier law begins which shall prevail, The holier law of love which cannot fail.

Thee of a virgin-mother born,

In Whom is centred endless morn,

We praise Thee, bless Thee, worship and adore,
With Father, and with Spirit, evermore.

Isaac Williams (from the Latin).

Lo! the eighth bright morn is flinging

Far and wide its ruddy fire; And obedient hands are bringing

To the law the young Messiah;

Babe begotten not adopted,

Co-eternal with the Sire.

Yea, the breathing of the Spirit
O'er the holy maiden blows;
Whence, a virgin uncorrupted,

She endured no mother's throes,
Whom her pure and stainless offspring
As His own chaste parent chose.

Thence did aged Simeon gladly
In his arms the Infant take;
And embracing and exulting

At the Lord's salvation spake "Now in peace dismiss Thy servant, Lord, for Thy great mercy's sake."

Thence, too, hoary Anna, walking
In her chaste and holy mood,

Who from youth's fair flower and spring-tide
Still had lived in widowhood,

There the wide world's future Sovereign
In that wailing Infant viewed.

Straightway with the law accordant

Forth their hallowed gifts they reach, Turtles twain-a pair of pigeons, Twofold is the type of each;

For of body and of spirit

They the twofold pureness teach.

Now in Him the Circumcision

Of the old Law they fulfil;

While each testament He proveth,

As the record of His will,

Who, in Trinity abiding,

All things wrought and worketh still.

Glory, honour, laud and worship,
Ever be to God most high;

To the Father, Son and Spirit,

Unto all eternity,

Praise be given, as power belongeth,

Praise that never more shall die.

W. J. Blew.

JERUSALEM, why are thy voices dumb?

Where, sons of Jacob, are your notes of glee? Behold! the Lord God, whom ye seek, doth come To-day unto His temple suddenly.

Where stand the Levite bands their King to greet?
What waiting guards attend upon His state?

One lowly Virgin beareth up the street

Her first-born Son unto thy temple gate.

Her forty days of loneliness are o'er ;

What present doth the virgin-mother bring? The two young pigeons from her scanty store, And Him, the full sufficient offering.

Haply, to-day, with pomp and proffered gold,
Young noble mothers sought the holy dome,
Paid the full price that Moses bade of old,

And bore their ransomed treasures proudly home;

But not for them the prophet's eye, grown dim
With watchful years, lit up in ecstasy;
Nor aged Anna looked in them for Him
Whom she had served so long, so patiently.

And when resistless broke the glowing word,
"Now let Thy servant die, my work is done;
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the Lord :"
The prophet looked upon the virgin's Son.

He was the perfect sacrifice foreshewn

By shadowy type of old and symbol high; The first-born of unnumbered sons, alone

In Him accepted, and in Him brought nigh.

No treasured gold shall buy Him back again,
Self-offered gift to shrive a whole world's sin:
Open thy gates; the Victim and His train
Draw near; the virgin bears her First-born in.

C. F. H.

O THOU who art enthroned on high,
In peace now let Thy servant die,

Whose hope on Thee relies:

For Thou, whose words and deeds are one,
At length hast Thy salvation shown
To these my ravished eyes;

By Thee, before Thy hands displayed
The heavens, and earth's foundation laid,
Unto the world decreed :

K