wine-cup. 
But he who cometh up hither, unworthy, with hate in his bosom,
Scoffing at men and at God, is guilty of Christ’s blessed body,
And the Redeemer’s blood!  To himself he eateth and drinketh
Death and doom!  And from this, preserve us, thou heavenly Father! 
Are ye ready, ye children, to eat of the bread of Atonement?”
Thus with emotion he asked, and together answered the children,
“Yes!” with deep sobs interrupted.  Then read he the due supplications,
Read the Form of Communion, and in chimed the organ and anthem: 
“O Holy Lamb of God, who takest away our transgressions,
Hear us! give us thy peace! have mercy, have mercy upon us!”
Th’ old man, with trembling hand, and heavenly pearls on his eyelids,
Filled now the chalice and paten, and dealt round the mystical symbols. 
Oh, then seemed it to me as if God, with the broad eye of midday,
Clearer looked in at the windows, and all the trees in the church yard
Bowed down their summits of green, and the grass on the graves ’gan to shiver
But in the children (I noted it well; I knew it) there ran a
Tremor of holy rapture along through their ice-cold members. 
Decked like an altar before them, there stood the green earth, and above it
Heaven opened itself, as of old before Stephen; they saw there
Radiant in glory the Father, and on his right hand the Redeemer. 
Under them hear they the clang of harpstrings, and angels from gold clouds
Beckon to them like brothers, and fan with their pinions of purple.

Closed was the Teacher’s task, and with heaven in their hearts and their faces,
Up rose the children all, and each bowed him, weeping full sorely,
Downward to kiss that reverend hand, but all of them pressed he
Moved to his bosom, and laid, with a prayer, his hands full of blessings,
Now on the holy breast, and now on the innocent tresses.

*******

KING CHRISTIAN

A NATIONAL SONG OF DENMARK

King Christian stood by the lofty mast
   In mist and smoke;
His sword was hammering so fast,
Through Gothic helm and brain it passed;
Then sank each hostile hulk and mast,
   In mist and smoke. 
“Fly!” shouted they, “fly, he who can! 
Who braves of Denmark’s Christian
   The stroke?”

Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest’s roar,
   Now is the hour! 
He hoisted his blood-red flag once more,
And smote upon the foe full sore,
And shouted Loud, through the tempest’s roar,
   “Now is the hour!”
“Fly!” shouted they, “for shelter fly! 
Of Denmark’s Juel who can defy
   The power?”

North Sea! a glimpse of Wessel rent
   Thy murky sky! 
Then champions to thine arms were sent;
Terror and Death glared where he went;
From the waves was heard a wail, that
    rent
   Thy murky sky! 
From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol’,
Let each to Heaven commend his soul,
    And fly!