XXIII.

The hilly region crossed with haste, Its last dark ridge discerned no more, Bright as the bow that spans a waste She stood beside her Cousin's door;

And spake:—that greeting came from God! Filled with the Spirit from on high Sublime the aged Mother stood, And cried aloud in prophecy,—

"Soon as thy voice had touched mine ears The child in childless age conceived Leaped up for joy! Throughout all years Blessed the woman who believed."

Type of Electing Love! 'tis thine To speak God's greeting from the skies! Thy voice we hear: thy Babe divine At once, like John, we recognise.

Within our hearts the second birth Exults, though blind as yet and dumb. The child of Grace his hands puts forth, And prophesies of things to come.