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Whence God incarnate came
Some thund'rous message roll?
      Nay,
This have I heard, His voice within my soul.

What hast thou felt to-day?
The pinions of the Angel-guide
That standeth at thy side
In rapturous ardours beat,
Glowing, from head to feet,
In ecstasy divine?
      Nay,
This only have I felt, Christ's hand in mine.



THE TERESIAN CONTEMPLATIVE

By Robert Hugh Benson


She moves in tumult; round her lies

 The silence of the world of grace;

The twilight of our mysteries

 Shines like high noonday on her face;

Our piteous guesses, dim with fears, She touches, handles, sees, and hears.

In her all longings mix and meet;

 Dumb souls through her are eloquent;

She feels the world beneath her feet

 Thrill in a passionate intent;

Through her our tides of feeling roll And find their God within her soul.