III

A pilgrim from the northern seas—

      What joy for me to seek alone

      The wondrous Temple and the throne

Of Him who holds the awful keys!

When, bright with purple and with gold,

      Come priest and holy Cardinal,

      And borne above the heads of all

The gentle Shepherd of the Fold.

O joy to see before I die

      The only God-anointed King,

      And hear the silver trumpets ring

A triumph as He passes by!

Or at the brazen-pillared shrine

      Holds high the mystic sacrifice,

      And shows his God to human eyes

Beneath the veil of bread and wine.