Mother of sweet Compassion; lo, in thee
We find the secret of this Mystery:
He knew His Mother, and was known by thee.
Thy will and ways with His, would ever be
In perfect and in just conformity.
'They have no wine.' Oh, what simplicity,
What reverend faith, what graceful modesty,
Adorn those words of Mary. Verily,
The words of her He loved so tenderly
As sweetest music they to Him would be.
'Twas not to claim a Miracle that she
Sought Him in private, but His Will to see.
She knew His power; that He approached would
Not as her Son, but as her God. So He
As God replied to her anxiety.
Her prayer is unexpressed. Oh, see,
How prayer should rise before that Majesty
Who reads the heart itself. For answer, He
No token seems to give; yet, verily,
She knows her wish untold fulfilled shall be.
What more is needed? Yes, 'tis needed, she
All human help should tender; secretly
The servants she instructs that, readily
And without hesitation, they obey
His least Commands - and thus prepares His way.
Thus is her intercession perfect. She
Hath stood before her Son as God: and He
Who is her Son, bows down; yea, graciously
Changes the purpose of His own Decree,
That she all ages through may honoured be.
Stands thus the Mother of our Lord: for she
Hath never lost that sweet authority
Which, at the Bridal Feast, was seen to be
Acknowledged by her God. Oh, then may we
Her aid expect in each extremity.
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote