Lo, thus in secret and in privacy
Looking to Him, Messias that shall be,
Waiting in faith and ardent longing, see,
The Church is founded. Lord of times is He,
And to His faithful speaks He inwardly.
The strife is hot, 'twixt endless Purity
And almost endless blind delinquency.
The heathen rage, the very hierarchy
Of Juda, lifts its voice in stubborn cry
Against the prophets and their ministry.
The Prince of Darkness heads the fierce array
With all his myrmidons. The Light of Day
He fain would quench: the powers of earth obey
The sensual demons: while the unholy fray
In fury drives the Sons of Light away.
All through their conflicts, many thousands be
Faithful and true: a dolorous destiny
Awaits indeed their holy energy -
Martyrs of faith and of fidelity -
Forerunners in His race, behold, they be.
A cloud of witnesses unceasingly
Thronged to the battle's front - these, verily,
By faith have conquered kingdoms; valiantly
Died for the crown of justice; would not be
Delivered, for the Hope that was to be.
It was the Word Himself who promised. He
Had through His Prophets spoken: and would be
Adored and worshipped under veils: 'till He
Should come and all the Law fulfil, and be
The Priest and Victim of Humanity.
And through the darkling cloud which, verily,
Hid the true brightness of His Entity,
One gentle Ray beamed forth, and tenderly
Broke on the troubled waters. It was she,
The Virgin Mother- sung in prophecy.
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote