XXV.

Who doubts that thou art finite? Who Is ignorant that from Godhead's height To what is loftiest here below The interval is infinite?

O Mary! with that smile thrice-blest Upon their petulance look down;— Their dull negation, cold protest— Thy smile will melt away their frown!

Show them thy Son! That hour their heart Will beat and burn with love like thine; Grow large; and learn from thee that art Which communes best with things divine.

The man who grasps not what is best In creaturely existence, he Is narrowest in the brain; and least Can grasp the thought of Deity.