LAUDS .

O F all eternity's bright diadems,
In Faith's high combat won,
Brighter than thine, celestial Benedict,
There glitter none.

Pleasure in thee had naught; — the grace of age
Was o'er thy boyhood shed;
All dust to thee the world's fair bloom, whose heart
To Heaven had fled.

Country and home abandon'd, for the depths
Of the lone forest rude;
There, while to Christ thy soul self-mastering,
The flesh subdued;

Lo, thee unknown, thy peerless miracles
A Saint of God display;
And forth through all the world thy glory speeds
On wings of day!

Glory eternal, &c.