THE VISION OF THE MONK GABRIEL.

'Tis the soft twilight. 'Round the shining fender, Two at my feet and one upon my knee, Dreamy-eyed Elsie, bright-lipped Isabel, And thou, my golden-headed Raphael, My fairy, small and slender, Listen to what befel Monk Gabriel, In the old ages ripe with mystery— Listen, my darlings, to the legend tender. A bearded man, with grave, but gentle look— His silence sweet with sounds With which the simple-hearted Spring abounds: Lowing of cattle from the abbey grounds, Chirping of insect, and the building rook, Mingled like murmurs of a dreaming shell; Quaint tracery of bird and branch and brook Flitting across the pages of his book, Until the very words a freshness took— Deep in his cell, Sate the Monk Gabriel. In his book he read The words the Master to His dear ones said: 'A little while and ye Shall see, Shall gaze on Me; A little while, again, Ye shall not see Me then.' A little while! The monk looked up—a smile Making his visage brilliant, liquid-eyed: 'O Thou, who gracious art Unto the poor of heart, O Blessed Christ!' he cried, 'Great is the misery Of mine iniquity; But would I now might see, Might feast on Thee!' The blood, with sudden start, Nigh rent his veins apart— (O condescension of the Crucified!) In all the brilliancy Of His Humanity, The Christ stood by his side! Pure as the early lily was His skin, His cheek out blushed the rose, His lips, the glows Of autumn sunset on eternal snows: And His deep eyes within, Such nameless beauties, wondrous glories dwelt, The monk in speechless adoration knelt. In each fair hand, in each fair foot, there shone The peerless stars He took from Calvary: Around His brows, in tenderest lucency, The thorn-marks lingered, like the flush of dawn; And from the opening in His side there rilled A light, so dazzling, that the room was filled With heaven: and transfigured in his place, His very breathing stilled, The friar held his robe before his face, And heard the angels singing! 'Twas but a moment—then, upon the spell Of this sweet Presence, lo! a something broke: A something, trembling, in the belfry woke, A shower of metal music flinging O'er wold and moat, o'er park and lake and fell, And, through the open windows of the cell, In silver chimes came ringing. It was the bell Calling Monk Gabriel Unto his daily task, To feed the paupers at the abbey gate. No respite did he ask, Nor for a second summons idly wait; But rose up, saying in his humble way: 'Fain would I stay, O Lord! and feast alway Upon the honeyed sweetness of Thy beauty— But 'tis Thy will, not mine, I must obey; Help me to do my duty!' The while the Vision smiled, The monk went forth, light-hearted as a child. An hour thence, his duty nobly done, Back to his cell he came. Unasked, unsought, lo! his reward was won! Rafters and walls and floor were yet aflame With all the matchless glory of that Sun, And in the centre stood the Blessed One— (Praised be His Holy Name!) Who, for our sakes, our crosses made His own. And bore our weight of shame! Down on the threshold fell Monk Gabriel, His forehead pressed upon the floor of clay; And, while in deep humility he lay, Tears raining from his happy eyes away, 'Whence is this favor, Lord?' he strove to say. The Vision only said, Lifting its shining head: 'If thou hadst staid, O son! I must have fled!' Philadelphia