San Gabriel, On The Pacific Coast.

Grey-cowled monk, whose faith so earnest     Guides these Indians' childlike hearts,     As their hands to toil thou turnest,     Teaching them the Builder's arts,     Speak thy thought! as now they gather     Round the white walls on the plain,     Rearing them for God the Father,     And the glory of New Spain.     "Thou, St. Gabriel, knowest only     Why thy holy bells I raise,     To no turret proud and lonely,     There to sound the hours of praise;--     Why I keep them close beside me,     Framed within the church's walls,     Here where heathen lands shall hide me     Until death to judgment calls."     Then St Gabriel in high heaven     Told the saints this mortal's lot,     As the Angelus at even     Rose to day that dieth not;     And from out the nightly wonder     Of the darkened world would float,     Mingling with the near sea's thunder,     Yonder belfry's golden note.     "Two there were, whose loves were blighted     By the Spanish pride abhorred,     And their vows and wealth they plighted     To the Missions of the Lord.     For his church these bells she gave him,     When within their glowing mould,     She had cast what were her treasures,     --All her ornaments of gold.     "So do these, that to his seeming     Were but good as touched by her,     Ring to seek for love redeeming     All who sorrow, all who err.     Yes, though human love be ever     Heard upon the throbbing air,     This shall make his life's endeavour     Stronger through a woman's prayer.     "God is not a Lord requiring     Sacrifice of memories dear,     And their love in life untiring     To His life hath brought then near.     Thus his wish to have beside him     That which seems her voice, is good:     Lovingly the Lord hath tried him,     And his heart hath understood."