To fill thy odorous lamp, with deeds of light, Thou, when the Bridegroom, with His faithful friends, Hast gain'd thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure!" * ii. "BEHOLD THE HANDMAID OF THE LORD!" Adhere to it, for the direction of your life. Life is a day; and they have not completed it, who have but seen its morning, through. Life is a race; and they cannot be crowned, who have not reached the goal. Life is a voyage; and they alone are safe, who have attained the port. The might of a The might of a religious youth is, all but, matchless. But its purposes must be made actual, in all the life. Life has its joys. Life has its sorrows. Life has its trials. Life has its triumphs. And, in a woman's life, oh, my beloved, what vicissitudes, what exigencies, what emergencies! What trials of their faith! What trials of their hope! What trials of their patience! What trials of their love! And, if they have but human strength, to bear them up, and human prudence to direct them, how comfortless, how hopeless, is their lot. The blessed God, Who saw, beforehand, what a woman's life must be, has made her a religious heart. And, when His blessed Son became. incarnate, that He might redeem the world, a woman's bosom was His cradle; women were His companions * Milton's Sonnet, To a Virtuous Young Lady. and His comforters, through life; and women the embalmers of His death: "Last at His Cross, and earliest at His grave." Be, my beloved, of their beautiful and blessed company. Be of the Maries, and the rest, that were ever glad to be with Jesus, where He was. Keep your selves, at His feet. Hold to His garment's hem. Lay out on Him, your choicest, and most costly, and most fragrant ointments. Listen, in faith, to all His words. And gaze, in love, on the divine and blessed beauty of His face. He will keep you. He will comfort you. He will help you. He will bless you. While you listen to Him, you shall be strengthened, for all your trials. When you but touch Him, you shall be healed of all your plagues. While you are gazing on Him, you shall be transformed, into His serene, celestial, beauty. A worldly woman is a mockery of her sex. An irreligious woman is a monster. While, in the meek and quiet spirit of the holy women who trust in God-patient in suffering, gentle in enjoyment, thoughtless of self, exhaustless in endurance, faithful through life, faithful in death, and faithful after death-we have all we know of angels, and come nearest heaven. iii. "BEHOLD THE HANDMAID OF THE LORD!" Look forward to it, for the consolation of your death. Beloved, you must die! Though you are young, now, you must die. Though you are well, now, you must die. Though you are happy, now, you must die. Let Barrett's Woman. me not be misunderstood. Would Would you be happiest, would you have perfect health, would you be young forever, you must die. Death is the gate of life. Downward, to those that know not God, to an eternal life of anguish and unrest. Upward, to those who know and love Him, to unmingled and immortal joy. When the hour shall come, that lays you on the bed of suffering and of pain, from which you are to rise no more; may it be yours, to say, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord!" When the last fluttering flame of life shall flicker, to go out; may it be yours, to say, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord!" And, when the resurrection morning comes, and the resurrection trump has sounded, and the resurrection glory has attained its full and perfect consummation, washed in the blood, and radiant in the spiritual and heavenly beauty, of Him, Who is the Resurrection and the Life, may it be yours, to say, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord!" IX. THE NINTH ADDRESS *TO THE GRADUATING CLASS AT ST. MARY'S HALL. your Life. THE THRESHOLD OF LIFE. BELOVED ones, you stand upon the Threshold of "Some natural tears." One long, last, lingering, look. One timid, half-inquiring, forward, glance. And, it is passed. It was much less, to pass the Rubicon. Beloved ones, while yet we stand together, on the Threshold, hand clasped in hand, heart pressed to loving heart, let me, for the last, loving, time, address you, as my children. Never, before, was it so truly so. There are times-the "mollia tempora fandi," as a poet hints, at them; moments, when the heart softens, to the tongue-times of a common sorrow, times of a common danger, times of a common suffering: when tenderest natures grow more tender; and hearts, that clung the closest, cling more closely. You have been mine, at such a time; BEN-ONI, children of my sorrow. And, in *March, A. D. 1852. the light of your dear eyes, and in the music of your loving lips, and in the swelling of your fond young hearts, I have found comfort, such as daughters only give. The tenderer, the truer, the more touching, the more treasured, in my heart of hearts, for all the months,* and all the years, that we have lived, and loved, together; and, that some of you were laid, as tender lambs, upon my bosom, by the dear Shepherd of us all, before your months were counted, yet, in years. Beloved ones, you are, indeed, an old man's daughters: and, for the comfort of your love, he gives you -it is all he has to give-his love, his blessing, and his prayers. Beloved ones, I never looked upon you, with a pang, before. The kindling eye, the curling lip, the gleaming smile, the murmured welcome; these met me, always, when I came to you; and made a sunshine, in the shadiest places of my life. How sadly different, now! As, when a loving mother sends her eldest daughter, to her newly wedded home. And tears make showers, in sunshine, with the smiles, upon her face. And she looks, everywhere, for what she has, yet, in her hand. And goes, a dozen times, to the same place, for what she might know was not there. And presses both hands upon her bosom, which she feels is bursting. And looks, anxiously, again, and, still, again, for the invidious carriage, which is to bear away her darling. And hears the wheels, before they fairly turn. And, still, repeats, *Two of the seventeen were dear children of parishioners; who, from their earliest infancy, had grown up, under my eye and hand. |