Volume 6 — Mater Filii.

Behind this vast and wondrous frame Of worlds whereof we nothing know Except their aspects, and their name,— Behind this blind, bewildering show Of shapes that on the darkness trace Transitions fair and fugitive, Lies hid that power upon whose face No child of man shall gaze and live. As one that in broad sunshine stands While minster organs near him roll, Screening his forehead with his hands, And following through the gulfs of soul Some memory that before him flies— Thus, power eternal and unknown, We muse on thine immensities, Yet find thee in thy Son alone. Immanuel—God with us—in him The lineaments divine are glassed Like mountain outlines, vague and dim Upon the mists of morning cast. The "Word made Flesh!" O power divine! Through him, through him, we guess at thee, And deepliest feel that he is thine When throned upon his mother's knee. "If I but touch his vesture's hem, I shall be healed, and strong, and free—" Thou wert his vesture, Mary;—them His virtue heals that cling to thee! Aubrey De Vere.