Mother of God, behold what majesty
That title crowns, what dread sublimity;
What depths unfathomable lie in thee;
Yea, saints have looked therein, nor failed to see,
A greatness bordering on infinity.
O Sacred Virgin, whose humility
Proclaimed the distance between God and thee,
Since thou art God's Own Mother, naught may be
Nearer to Him. Good Infinite is He,
And He His endless Goodness shares with thee.
Mother of God, thou liest in a sea
Of boundless glory: who may a crystal see
Reflecting sun-rays, and not dazzled be?
And though the crystal may be naught, yet we
Believe no less its fire-born purity.
Thou art the Sun-born Crystal, and from thee
Proceeds the Ray that, Sun-born, dwelt in thee;
The only perfect Crystal that could be
Unmolten by the Ray that entered thee -
The Ray, whose Substance joined, yea, lived by thee.
Thy substance entered into Deity,
And Deity itself partook of thee:
Without confusion joined, He linked in thee
His Being with thy nature - mystery
Bordering on consubstantiality.
The Tree of Life thou wert: oh, verily
Blossomed the Flower of Life and grew in thee;
It took from thee thy substance, and to thee
Was rendered back, to grace the parent tree,
The Fruit Divine of Immortality.
Thou gavest God a Mother: it was He
Who gave to thee a Son - a Son to be
The Type of Sonship; so He honoured thee.
The Type of Motherhood, obediently -
This was the Crown of thy Maternity.
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote