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“_She moves in tumult: round her lies
The silence of the world of grace;
The twilight of our mysteries
Shines like high noon-day on her face,
Our piteous guesses, dim with fears,
She touches, handles, sees, and hears._
* * * * *
“_A willing sacrifice, she takes
The burden of our Fall within;
Holy she stands; while on her breaks
The lightning of the wrath of sin:
She drinks her Saviour’s Cup of pain,
And, one with Jesus, thirsts again._”
THE CONTEMPLATIVE SOUL
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_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
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THE LORD OF THE WORLD
BY WHAT AUTHORITY?
THE KING’S ACHIEVEMENT
THE QUEEN’S TRAGEDY
RICHARD RAYNAL, SOLITARY
THE SENTIMENTALISTS
A MIRROR OF SHALOTT
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