How Mary's heart was touched. Who would not be
Entranced who loved thy Son? She looks to thee,
And clings, as to none other, unto thee;
It is because alone thou art to be
The Mother of the Hearts, whose King is He.
Few are that Mother's words. No word can be
More piercing in its swift lucidity.
She speaks of truths like Jesus: and as He
Speaks to the heart, and reason follows - she
Touches the springs of feeling, reasoningly.
The grace of intellect will ever be
In perfect souls subordinate, though free.
But Grace in Mary shone in powers that be
Most subtle in their force and energy.
Her knowledge was a Gift - the Giver, He.
She spoke of what she knew, and easily
Found words to mirror thought: large hearted, she
Could read the simple souls, and they would be
Drawn to the nobler mind unconsciously
For warmth and light and tender sympathy.
'Tis ever thus with perfect souls that be
Drawn to the inner Light of Sanctity:
And if such force of soul be proven, she,
Whom all perfections graced, must notably
Beyond all others most attractive be.
And Mary left her side entranced, that she
Should lift the veil of His Divinity
To her, poor Sinner. Never could she be
Forsaken, surely, now she knew that He
Would reign alone in Love's Benignity.
And thou, dear Mother, moving mournfully
Where Mary Cleophas watched over thee,
Whose sweet solicitudes thy Son with thee
Shared ever - simple, silent wouldst thou be,
Nor speak of sorrow unadvisedly.
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote