Thou Queen of Sacramental Mystery,
On whose dear lap God's Majesty doth lie
Creating all things: He Himself, through thee,
A Creature, sleeping on a Mother's knee -
O wondrous Virgin Mother, praise to thee.
Lo, at thy feet, O Mary, would I be,
That lessons wondrous I might learn from thee,
Lulling thy God with gentle lullaby.
Lo, in thy vision clear all prophecy
Meets its fulfilment on thy gracious knee.
Fountain of Gardens, lo, in thee I see
The Well of Living Waters which shall be
From Libanus a mighty stream, and we
Therein shall bathe and drink and cleansed be:
Fountain of Health, O Virgin, praise to thee.
The Soul of Jesus sleeping wakes for thee;
Thine inward voice He knows, thy lullaby:
Unto thy heart He speaks; 'twixt Him and thee
Are uttered things unspoken. Lo, for thee
No law is made that veils His Face from thee.
Thus mayst thou hear Him answering inwardly:
'I come into My Garden, for in thee
My myrrh and spices grow most readily;
My Garden art thou, and enclosed for Me,
For Me alone; so have I come to thee.
'Until the day dawn and the shadows flee,
A Mountain thou of frankincense shall be;
A Garden and a Resting Place for Me:
Sweet are thy plants, a paradise they be:
O My Beloved, lo, I dwell with thee.'
Her soul enraptured crieth secretly:
'All you who do desire Him, come to me;
Yea come, be filled with my Fruit, that ye
Partakers of His plenteousness may be;
Since Everlasting Life is found with me.'
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote