Classic Poem

Mother-Maid all-holy,
Throned upon thy knee,
Evermore the Almighty
Child and Lord we see,
While with awe thou gazest
On the wondrous face—
Blest among all women,
Mary, Full of grace.

Sung by million millions,
Since the distant day
When she walked among us
Her sweet stainless way;
How should we unworthy
To thy praise draw near;
How, uplift the chorus
Meet for heaven to hear?

Of that perfect childhood,
Of that youth-time fair,
Scarce a whisper lingers
What thou wast, and where:
Flower amid the flowers
Faith beholds thee go,
Mystic Rose of Sharon,
Lily pure as snow.

O'er the holy bosom
She her faithful hands
Folds, in silence waiting
Highest heaven's commands;
Till the sun-bright angel
Spoke his awful word,
‘Lo, thy will is my will,
Handmaid of the Lord.’

Angels and archangels
Now are round the Maid,
Where the world's Creator
At her knees is laid;
Where she worships o'er him,
God and Man in one,
Son of highest heaven,
Mary's royal Son.

By our great first parent,
Tempted and beguiled,
We were cast from Eden
To the desert wild:
Second Eve and Mother,
By the gift she brought,
God, through Mary's sorrow,
Man's salvation wrought.

On the Babe thou smilest,
He on thee the while:
But his Father's business
Calls him from thy smile:
In the secret archives
It is writ above,
Sevenfold swords shall pierce thee,
Sevenfold wounds of love.

Who should tell, when Mary
Touched the heart of woe?
When she saw death's triumph
Up the dool-way go?
When the whole world's burden
Bent him 'neath the rood?
When it shone, to save us,
With the precious Blood?

By the cross now standing
In that utter woe,
Yet some drops of gladness
In thy sorrows flow;
As the loved disciple
Reverent leads thee home—
Queen in lowly refuge,
Heaven's own ante-room,

Now through rest translated
To the realm assigned,
Crowned with grace we greet thee,
Crown of human-kind:
Yet through all the ages,
Throned upon thy knee,
Mother-Maid, the Almighty
Child and Lord we see.