In humble expectation, hoveringly
Before thy door, that other Mary see,
Dearest of Penitents. Oh, hath not she
A burthen of sweet tidings, which will be
'A bundle dropping myrrh,' 'twixt Him and thee?
O Mother, Full of Grace; how tenderly
This Child of Grace thou drawest unto thee -
This antetype of souls restored. Surely
His Mission then began, when, graciously,
Hers from the Powers Infernal He set free.
Full many a soul He liberated - she
Alone is found with broken heart to be
Of Penitents the model; yea, to be
Selfless in self-abjection; most, when she
Most felt the burthen of sin's infamy.
Before the door of Mary's cell stands she:
Who, but the Mother of the Lord could be
So full for her of tender charity?
Who, like the Sinless, love the Sinner? See,
How Grace hath recreated Purity.
She whispers of her Son: she saith how He
Her part had taken at the Feast; when, see,
The Vase she brake, and precious Spikenard she
Upon His Head had poured. 'Yea; let her be.
Against My burial is it done,' said He.
For the Apostle, the Iscariot - she,
Had heard rebuking: 'For the poor,' said he,
'Should waste be spared but oh, how graciously
Answered the Lord: 'Always the poor have ye,
While Me ye have not always.' So spake He
Words of significance. But verily,
The Mother knew their meaning. Not so she
Who, kneeling at her feet, abundantly
Sweet tears was shedding. Sympathy
The Mother shows. The Sword strikes inwardly.
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote