VENI, SPONSA CHRISTI "A SPOUSE of Christ." O longed-for day! Are now His gifts-to me, His bride. From these love-tokens ne'er to part. "A spouse of Christ." I'm safe at last; "A spouse of Christ." O vows most sweet, I ne'er will break these golden chains, "A spouse of Christ." When life is done, We'll meet at last! His voice I'll hear : S. M. W. THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD HE above title is all that we remember of one of the effusions TH of Felicia Hemans's graceful, but too fluent, Muse. graves of that household were scattered over various regions of the earth; the household that we are now concerned with has all its dear ones buried in one holy spot near their native village. The little series of funeral discourses, of which probably this is the last, deals with three who did not belong to that household, and with three who did; but they are all linked together by the happy circumstance that the same lips spoke eloquent words of praise and prayer at the burial of each of them. The first of these memorials that made its way into this magazine may be found at page 104 of our Thirtieth volume under the title of "A New Grave near the Old Chapel.' "' It preserves the memory of Michael Magee, a young man who died in Newry in 1902 at the beginning of what promised to be a career of great public usefulness. "A Newry Priest and a Newry Layman" (IRISH MONTHLY, Vol. 34, page 662) joins together the tribute paid to Mr. Thomas Fegan and the Rev. James Carlin by their Bishop, the Most Rev. Dr. O'Neill. "A Young Priest and a Young Physician," at page 297 of the present volume, does a similar service for the memory of two brothers-the Rev. Hugh O'Hare and Dr. John J. O'Hare. Between these two deaths had occurred the death of their father-Mr. John O'Hare, of Mayobridge, Co. Down. What manner of man he was we can best show by again quoting the farewell words spoken at his grave by the Bishop of Dromore, as we find them reported in an old newspaper : It is saddening, standing as we do here by the work of death, to behold the destruction it has effected, to think that the eyes which once beamed with intelligence and the light of kindly recognition are now closed and sightless, that the tongue which so often sent forth the voice of praise and prayer and thanksgiving to the Most High is silent, that the busy hands are motionless, and the warm throbbing heart stilled for ever, and that what was but a short time ago a living, breathing human being is now but a mass of senseless clay. Then, too, it is a solemn thing to be brought face to face with a dread fact that concerns VOL. XXXV.-No. 410. 2 H ourselves, an important truth which we all admit, but which most of us strive to forget-that the fate which has just overtaken another is the same that awaits ourselves, and that the cold hand which has stilled the beating of his heart will one day silence our own. Whether we like it or not, we are constrained to think of this, if only for a brief time, on occasions such as the present. Even the most thoughtless amongst us, looking on the coffin and what it contains, must be impressed with feelings akin to fear, and in the very silence and stillness which surrounds it must recognize the might and the majesty and the dread presence of a kingly power amongst whose victims he, too, will one day be numbered. "Yesterday for me, to-day for thee" is what those dead lips would say if they could, for "it is appointed unto all men once to die." Yes, some day we too shall pause in the labour of our lives. We shall see the shadows deepen and the coming of the night. The world's work will drop from our nerveless grasp, a shadowy hand will beckon us away from the things we loved and the interests for which we toiled; a summons stern, imperious, clear as a trumpet call, brooking no delay, will ring in our dull ears, waking us from life's fitful dream, announcing the coming of the Bridegroom, and bidding us go forth to meet Him. Where and when shall the summons find us? On land or sea, in the fields, in the streets, or in our own homes? Shall it come to us in the summer time, when the world is full of gladness and our pulses beat in tune with the life around us, and on a bright and beautiful festival of Our Lady, as was the happy lot of this departed Christian, and saints such as Hyacinth and Stanislaus; or in the sober autumn time, when the leaves are falling and nature itself speaks of dissolution and decay? Shall it be when winter holds the earth in a death-like grasp, and the skies are leaden and the winds come moaning down from the hills, or, again, in the pleasant springtime, when the world wakes up again and smiles in the freshness and beauty of a new life? Death will come to us surely, but where and when? Ah, that is one of those secrets regarding us which God keeps to Himself. Looked at, then, in the certainty that it will happen, in the uncertainty of its time and the circumstances which shall atter.d it, in its consequences which involve an issue of "tremendous moment for every one of us, it is not wonderful that the very thought of death should fill the mind with fear. But while to the unbeliever and sinner death is a simple horror, for the fervent Christian it has its joyful as well as its mournful aspect. For faith comforts us with the blessed assurance that death, with all the wreck and ruin it makes of life here, is but the end of a pilgrimage, that the grave, with all its terrors, is but a gate which opens into a kingdom of everlasting delights. Yes, thanks to the all-saving merits of our Divine Lord and the plentiful redemption He effected for us, death is no longer for us what it is to those who are without hope. We can look through the fissures of the tomb and catch a glimpse of the glories that are beaming beyond it. The darkest clouds that thicken round the death-bed are lit up into unearthly brightness by the approaching dawn of an everlasting day, and, when we part from cherished friends, we feel that they have only gone a short time before, and that we shall meet them once more in the kingdom of the just made perfect, that home of peace and joy where neither trouble nor sorrow can ever enter, where, loving and beloved, we shall be the companions of the brightest spirits creation has produced, enjoying happiness greater than human fancy has ever dreamt of, or human desire has ever coveted, and this not for a few passing years, but for the long ages of a never-ending eternity. Such is the sublime destiny to which as Christians we are called, such the true country into which we pass through the portals of death, such the everlasting kingdom provided for us from the foundation of the world by the mysterious fondness of our Heavenly Father. But then what have we ourselves to do to reach it? How is the glorious prize to be gained? How are we to secure this magnificent inheritance? Our Divine Lord Himself, "the way, the truth, and the life," has told us in the plainest words: "If you will enter into life," He says, "keep the commandments." And elsewhere He declares that the Kingdom of Heaven suffereth violence, and the violent alone bear it away." If, then, we desire to win the crown of everlasting life, we must be exact in the observance of the commandments, which are simply the expression of God's will with regard to us and all the duties of life; and we must do violence to our sinful inclinations, our unruly passions, checking them, curbing them, and reducing them into subjection to God's law. And to enable us to do this our Lord Himself has provided us with abundant helps, which render a work otherwise impossible not only practicable, but even easy. He has given us the great power and privilege of prayer, which unlocks the treasury of heaven's graces and procures for us assistance in every spiritual need. He has left in His Church for our use the Holy Sacraments, in which are treasured up the all-saving merits of His most Precious Blood and through which His graces stream in copious abundance to cleanse us from our sins, to console us in our sorrows, to give us courage in danger, and to strengthen us to fulfil every precept of His law, however difficult it may seem to the weakness of our fallen nature. But, oh, the folly and stupidity of the human heart! Men in their mad excitement to gain the things which perish overlook the interests which are eternal. With many the passing present pleasure outweighs the never ending future joy, and the sacrifices which are cheerfully made to obtain the fleeting honours of the world are grudged to secure the prize of heaven's imperishable glory. But it was not so with the good Christian before whose mortal remains we are met to-day. He had formed a true estimate of life and of the purpose for which life was given. He never forgot that the world was but a passing scene, and that his duty was to prepare himself for that other world, the eternity that lay before him. Respected in every station of life, he has passed away to the deep sorrow of some, and, as this large assemblage testifies, to the general regret of all who knew him. Consistent, straightforward, of transparent honesty of character, he won for himself in public life not only the confidence of friends but the esteem of opponents. Strong and manly in the assertion of his own views, he was tolerant and courteous to those who differed from him; and in the strife of prejudices and differences which embitter and estrange so many he always bore himself with such conspicuous fairness and moderation that, while staunch to principle, he never lost a friend or made an enemy. But, after all, it was here in his own home and in the discharge of the ordinary duties of life, that the true inner worth of such a man can be best seen. Wise and kind and obliging, his advice was ever ready for those who sought it. Generous and openhanded, he responded promptly to every call of faith, of charity, or of country. His mind was cast in a deeply religious mould. Religion was the atmosphere of his home, and the source of the happy domestic surroundings with which for so many years his life was blessed. It made him not merely an example of all that is good to the members of his own family, but it made him also, through the fervent discharge of his public religious duties, a standing source of edification to the priest and people of the parish in which he lived. And even when health and strength had failed him he would not forgo the usual practices of his life, and so until a few weeks ago his familiar presence in this church was rarely missed. And if, as is said, death be the interpreter of life, what a holy death his must have been! He had time to watch its coming, and by reason of the life-long preparation he had made he looked forward to it without fear. Prayer almost uninterrupted, communion with God by prayer, was the occupation of his last days. Cleansed in the Sacrament of Penance, soothed with the sweet graces of Extreme Unction, consoled and |