ORIGINAL POETRY.

New Zealander, Volume 9, Issue 748, 15 June 1853, Page 3

ORIGINAL POETRY.

THE ORDINATION OF ROTA, THE DEACON. Oh, kneeling at a Christian shrine, Within thine own unconquered land : My God, the Pakcha's God, and thine, Anoint thee with His grace divine, And touch thee with His wounded hand. Weep'st thou? Ah, weep not, He has trod The dark and toilsome path before, With bleeding brow, with feet unshod, The Omniscient One, —the world's-wide God, Stood on the Roman's marble floor. He stood, forsaken and alone, — But 'twas to wash thy sins away, To claim thee, clasp thee, as His own, And from a victor's golden throne, To stoop and wipe thy tears to-day. The single robe of spotless white, The elements of bread and wine, Speak to the inward hidden sight— Oh, may the seven-fold Spirit bright, Deep searching, rouse and waken thine. Pure as that robe thy life must show— Like wine thy words of comfort be— The earnest spirit must not know One craving want, one powerful foe, Fed, Rota, by thy God and thee. My soul is bowed in speechless prayer For thee, thou dark-browed man ; God lead thee by the rivers fair, And, should thy spirit faint with care, Refresh thee —for alone he can. His latest heritage art thou, Foretold of yore by sage and king, When all earth's farthest isles should bow, And bend the knee, and speak the vow, Rich gifts and glad Hosannas bring. Perchance the martyr-deacon might, Amid his glimpse of harp and throne, Have seen that brow and eye of night, That dark form girded for the fight, And hailed, in distant times, his own. St. George. Auckland, June, 1853.