| Through which the Brightness Incarnate |
| In undimm'd majesty might pass, |
| Transparent and illuminate. |
And so, on Philip when we gaze, |
| We see the image of his Lord; |
| The Saint dissolves amid the blaze |
| Which circles round the Living Word. |
{299}
The Meek, the Wise, none else is here, |
| Dispensing light to men below; |
| His awful accents fill the ear, |
| Now keen as fire, now soft as snow. |
As snow, those inward pleadings fall, |
| As soft, as bright, as pure, as cool, |
| With gentle weight and gradual, |
| And sink into the feverish soul. |
The Sinless One, He comes to seek, |
| The dreary heart, the spirit lone, |
| Tender of natures proud or weak, |
| Not less than if they were His own. |
He takes and scans the sinner o'er, |
| Handling His scholars one by one, |
| Weighing what they can bear, before |
| He gives the penance to be done. |
Jesu, to Philip's sons reveal |
| That gentlest wisdom from above, |
| To spread compassion o'er their zeal, |
| And mingle patience with their love. |
The Oratory.
1850. |