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Show A SAINT'S SCORN. (By Marion Muir.) . Saint Magdalene of Pazzi, saith a tale. Wrapped in divinest thought, beneath her veil, In her still shelter knelt alone at prayer, YVTien loud a furious foot upon the stair, A cloud of darkness and a bitter cry: "The Lord hath given me power even I To drag thee, woman, by the hair, along Through the steep street, where all may see thy wrong!" "Indeed," she answered, "sayeth thou so, in sooth! Then hasten: it shall never cost me ruth. What the Lord wills, who made me, that shall be. Even the crown of blessedness to me. Swift as he came, the Enemy had fled Ere the last word his smiling foe had said. Trust Him, my soul, whrfse "everlasting arms" , , , Abide through forty centuries alarms! Huge swelling phantoms are the power Face them unflinching; He is' ruler still! |