We know not, Mother, how the call would be
That bade thee leave Capharnaum; if He
Himself thee summoned, or if, inwardly
His Spirit moved, who ever tenderly
Drew on thy soul to meet His destiny.
Lo, in thine inner chamber, fervently
Unto thy Heavenly Father wouldst thou pray
To keep thee in thy goings on the way
Which in obscurity before thee lay -
The steps of Jesus following, day by day.
The Paschal-feast approacheth. Thou and He
Must both attend this high Solemnity.
But to thy stedfast Heart what would it be,
The thought of finding Him, in verity,
Preparing for the End? Oh, woe is thee.
Yet, what a Crown for Womanhood. Oh, see
This Virgin Champion of Humanity
O'er Nature triumphing victoriously.
Lo, Full of Grace is thy Maternity,
'O Mulier, fortis in examine.'
And who would dream, to see thee passing by,
A two-edged Sword has pierced thee inwardly?
Who, understand the calm enabling thee
The burthen of suspended agony
Without a sign, to bear so patiently?
Not all unconscious wert thou of that cry
Raised by the Pharisees. The infamy
With which they dared asperse Him was to thee
Well known: their blindness and their jealousy
Ripening their projects to maturity.
Had not thy Spirit rapt in ecstasy
Beheld the Miracle in Bethany?
Gazed on the Tears of Jesus? Heard the Cry
Which woke the dead? - so all the world should see
The Resurrection and the Life was He.
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote