To the Virgin Mary

Mother of Him we call the Christ,
No halo round thy brows we paint, -
Incense and prayer we offer not,
Nor mind to title thee as saint.

And yet, no woman's name, - of all
With honour from the ages sent, -
Mary, is aureoled like thine,
With love and grief and glory blent!

Oh wisely was it that He chose, -
Who the unwritten future reads, -
To teach the after-world, through thee,
What cherishers Messiah needs.

Thou heard'st the angel's prophecy, -
The tidings which the shepherds brought, -
Anna and Simeon praising God, -
And saw'st that star the Wise Men sought!

Ah, who of us could bear, - like thee, -
With meekness, God's triumphal light;
Then, - still believing, - with His Charge, -
At midnight take an exile's flight?

Throughout the Son's long helplessness
His good was to thine own preferred;
May we so serve; and still, like Thee,
Stand back to let His voice be heard!

Dispenser once of earthly things,
Thy Best-Beloved thou didst see;
God's hands for others blessing-full, -
Could we be poor and glad like thee?

Soul-pierced with sword-like agony, -
Not felon's taunt nor soldier's jest;
Beside the God-forsaken Cross,
Could drive thee from it like the rest.

Christ's banner thou alone didst hold
In face of all His foes displayed;
Valiant through all defeat, - and but
Heart-stricken that He was betrayed.

Ah, Mary! Could we stand, like thee,
Steadfast; and watch the vowed depart;
And grieve for their defection less
Than for the Saviour's wounded heart?

How must the God, - who favour set
On David once and kingly Saul, -
And yet foresaw their wanderings,
And loved them through and after all -

How must He seal the prophecy,
Declaring thee forever blest,
Whose whole life showed thy worthiness
Of that pure Child thine arms had pressed!

O single-hearted one to kiss
The lifeless and dishonored head,
Fondly as when its baby brow,
By angel wings was canopied!

O self-forgetful, to rejoice
For that Heaven's entrance had been found
By the Beloved: thou content
Thenceforth, alone to close life's round!

In the bright future, - sure, though far, -
Again, as once, the wide air rings
With praise to Christ! - Thy vigil ends,
Meek daughter of a hundred kings!

Virgin, may we partake thy joy,
When Heaven and loyal earth shall lay
At the pierced feet of David's son
A crown He will not put away!