OCR Text |
Show . , , . J THE ANGELUS. By Ross-Comain. Let early sunbeams, golden bright, Along the dewy fields be lying. Or rain-clouds biur the morning light , O'er heaven's face all darkly flying. But, changeless still, each coming day, Though sktijifi be blue or skies be grey. Thy echoes softly float around With no discordant, jangling sound. But, with those tones of peace and love That angels chunt in heaven above, . Sweet Angelus: Thou ceasest, but, when noonday comes Thy solemn voice floats, trebly pealing, peal-ing, - O'er busy street where traffic hums And rustic valleys slowly stealing: See heads uncovered, lowly now, With reverence at thy echoes bow; In many "a mind the thought finds birth How holy heaven, how lowly earth; When seem thy chimes to warn man How melts away his worldly span. Dear Angelus And when the evening shadows pale. In phantom shapes are slowly creeping creep-ing O'er river's breast and dark'ning vale. And through the feathery clouds is peeping. I From opening, gold-edged skies afar, I The mild and trembling evening star, Once more thy music bids us raise Our hearts in grateful thanks and praise Up to that bright magnific throne, Where reigns our hope, our king alone. Loved Angelus!-i Angelus!-i Sweet Angelus. I never hear At morn, noon, or evening ringing, Thy solemn chimes, but to my ear They seem this sacred message bringing bring-ing That I should during life's short day With contrite heart forever pray To Him, whose humble, holy birth Redeemed a lost and outcast earth. That I may hear, while death awaits. Chimes such as thine at heaven's gates. Blest Angelus. |