Classic Poem

Chicken blessed and caressed,
Little bee on Jesu's breast,
From the hurry and the flurry
Of this earth thou'rt now at rest:
From our care in lower regions
Thou art taken to the legions
Who 'bove human griefs are raised;
There thou'rt kept, the Lamb be praised!
Chicken blessed, bee caressed,
Thou that sleep'st on Jesu's breast.
What does a bird in Cross's air,
When it flies up to the Lamb near,
When round the Lamb it moves and sings,
And claps the Ave with its wings?
Dear hearts! look, look and see,
The little bird finds presently
Its nest in the dear cavity,
From whence the Church was dug.
Within the hole, where blood casts rays,
The bird itself entangled has;
And round the castle of the side
Are wound-swans in the canal wide;
There learns the little piper
In th' hole to be a dipper.

Chorus

My heart with joy, with joy abounds,
I've found the ocean of the wounds;
There I'm a little dove, a fish,
There is my bed, table and dish,
and all things.