While yet he speaks, the place is suddenly
Filled with a shimmering glow, and seems to be
Alive with Angels' wings. Such might we see
Clothing our Angel-Guardians, were not we
So clouded by our Spirit's density.
Upriseth now a wave of jubilee
As from the depth of some unfathomed sea
Nearing the shore: the while a melody
Steals through the air like ripples gracefully
Stirring the tide incoming of the sea.
True, 'tis the voice of Angels. Yea, they be
The Angels of the Prisoners - for they
From earth have followed them, to be their stay
And true companions on their homeward way,
Through all the darkling night, till break of Day.
And lo, the Dawn hath tipped their wings, to be
A sweet forerunner of the minstrelsy
Their Angels soon will sing. And verily,
Murmured had these long years the psalmody
Which now they chant in long-drawn harmony.
'O Mary, Queen and Mother, lo, today,
By thee, a Woman, Death hath passed away.
Drop down, O Heavens: O Cloud, why dost thou stay?
Come and refresh us on our weary way,
And ope for us the Gate of Heaven today.
'O Mary, Rod of Jesse's stately Tree,
Bearing the Flower of David's Majesty;
Mary, our one dear Joy, our Liberty,
Our Life, our Sweetness and our Hope; to thee
Turn all our eyes. Come; come; and set us free.'
Then softly doth a Chorus echoingly
Ring from the prison depths: 'O Mary, we
Thy banished Daughters look and long for thee.
O Mary, hasten our deliverance. See,
We bless, we praise, we love, we worship thee.'
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote