December 30

Lord, if it be Thou, bid me come unto Thee on the water. And He said, "Come."

THROUGH the world's raging sea He bids us come,

And 'twixt the sundered billows guides our path, 'Till, spent and wearied with the ocean's wrath, He calls His storm-tossed saints to Heaven and home.

There in His paradise red roses blow, With golden daffodils and lilies pale And gentle violets, and down the vale The murmuring rivulets for ever flow.

Sweet balsams, welling from the slender tree, And precious spices fill the fragrant air, And, hiding by the stream, that blossom rare Whose leaves the river hurries to the sea.

There the blest souls with one accord unite To hymn in dulcet song their Saviour's praise, And as the chanting quire their voices raise They tread with shining feet the lilies bright.

AURELIUS PRU- DENTIUS CLEMENS, trans. by R. Martin Pope

THE CLOSED BOOK