I cannot see him, but I know
That angels kneel and gaze
Around the altar, where for us
In patient love he stays.
Great Lord, what wondrous love was thine
To choose this poor abode!
Ah, dearest child—believe it well,—
This church contains our God."
Then child and mother bow'd again
In that cold silent street,
And went once more upon their way
With shoeless, shiv'ring feet.
20. The Visit to the Image of Mary.
Come let us here repose, and gaze
On Mary's face awhile;
We wander to and fro all day,
And now we want her smile.
The godless look of things without,
Oh, how it drives us here,
To prize with grateful hearts the bliss
Of finding Mary near!
The very walls we pass each day
Cry out their impious tale;
And blasphemies are heard that make
The stoutest spirit quail.
Oh, leave we, then, the crowded streets,
Their noise and dust and glare;
We've thought and talk'd and sinn'd since morn,
We need a moment's prayer.
