" "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come
away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone."
A Song of Low Degree
Lord, I am small, and yet so great,
The whole world stands to my estate,
And in Thine Image I create.
The sea is mine; and the broad sky
Is mine in its immensity:
The river and the river's gold;
The earth's hid treasures manifold;
The love of creatures small and great,
Save where I reap a precious hate;
The noon-tide sun with hot caress,
The night with quiet loneliness;
The wind that bends the pliant trees,
The whisper of the summer breeze;
The kiss of snow and rain; the star
That shines a greeting from afar;
All, all are mine; and yet so small
Am I, that lo, I needs must call,
Great King, upon the Babe in Thee,
And crave that Thou would'st give to me
The grace of Thy humility.
A German Christmas Eve
It was intensely cold; Father Rhine was frozen over, so he may
speak for it; and for days we had lived to the merry jangle and
clang of innumerable sleigh bells, in a white and frost-bound
world. As I passed through the streets, crowded with stolidly
admiring peasants from the villages round, I caught the dear
remembered 'Gruss Gott!' and 'All' Heil!' of the countryside, which
town life quickly stamps out along with many other gentle
observances.
"Gelobt sei Jesu Christ!" cried little Sister Hilarius, coming on
me suddenly at a corner, her round face aglow with the sharp air,
her arms filled with queer-shaped bundles.
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