Oh, let the Light, however great, but be
A little shadowed, instantaneously
Our joy to grief gives place. Instinctively
The sentiment of instability
Causeth all desolation - night to be.
O Prudent Virgin, art thou doomed to be
Partaker of such darkness? Yes: from thee
A little while the Light which lighteth thee
Is veiled and clouded over. Thou wilt be
The Pattern of a perfect Sympathy.
Thou too art in the School of Suffering. See
Behold the lesson first appointed thee:
All innocent thyself, yet wilt thou be
Acquainted truly with adversity,
And share the lot of our humanity.
Oh, what more grievous Suffering can there be
Appointed for God's children, than to see
No Light around? and His dear Face to be
Hid, or estranged? Such dire calamity
Must drive the spirit to extremity.
To us poor darklings, ever this must be
A portion of our penance - not to see,
Or not to feel God's gentle Majesty;
To live by faith alone, and stedfastly
Within our light to walk, though poor it be.
But in the glorious daylight, which for thee,
O Tender Virgin, had arisen, 'twould be
A desolation all express, when He,
The Sun of thy existence, willed to be
A little while obscured and lost to thee.
Oh, in the midst of thy serenity,
What must this thunder-bolt have been to thee?
A portent of a dreadful certainty?
A preparation for the day when He
Shall leave thee all alone on Calvary?
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote