Holy Baptism

Where is it mothers learn their love?—
   In every Church a fountain springs
      O’er which th’ Eternal Dove
         Hovers out softest wings.

What sparkles in that lucid flood
   Is water, by gross mortals eyed:
      But seen by Faith, ’tis blood
         Out of a dear Friend’s side.

A few calm words of faith and prayer,
   A few bright drops of holy dew,
      Shall work a wonder there
         Earth’s charmers never knew.

O happy arms, where cradled lies,
   And ready for the Lord’s embrace,
      That precious sacrifice,
         The darling of His grace!

Blest eyes, that see the smiling gleam
   Upon the slumbering features glow,
      When the life-giving stream
         Touches the tender brow!

Or when the holy cross is signed,
   And the young soldier duly sworn,
      With true and fearless mind
         To serve the Virgin-born.

But happiest ye, who sealed and blest
   Back to your arms your treasure take,
      With Jesus’ mark impressed
         To nurse for Jesus’ sake:

To whom—as if in hallowed air
   Ye knelt before some awful shrine—
      His innocent gestures wear
         A meaning half divine:

By whom Love’s daily touch is seen
   In strengthening form and freshening hue,
      In the fixed brow serene,
         The deep yet eager view.—

Who taught thy pure and even breath
   To come and go with such sweet grace?
      Whence thy reposing Faith,
         Though in our frail embrace?

O tender gem, and full of Heaven!
   Not in the twilight stars on high,
      Not in moist flowers at even
         See we our God so nigh.

Sweet one, make haste and know Him too,
   Thine own adopting Father love,
      That like thine earliest dew
         Thy dying sweets may prove.