The Queen is in their midst; to her shall be
The care committed of their ministry:
Their intercession, hour by hour, will she
Offer before the Throne of Deity,
The while her own ascends, unweariedly.
The work seems boundless, as the Love which He
Pours down upon a saved Humanity.
For guilt and woe though boundless seemingly,
Lie in the bounds of His Benignity,
Unfathomable, shoreless as the sea.
Yet not a soul will live but it must be
Purchased by Him - yea, brought to Him, to be
Washed in the ruddy Stream of Calvary.
No sin, no least defectibility,
But cleansed in that great Sacrifice must be.
Nor may a soul the fires of Hades see
But looks for its deliverance; yearningly
Watching that Prayer and Sacrifice may be
Applied to its relief immediately -
Longing, but oh, 'not struggling to be free.'
For this the lisping prayer of Babes may be
Offered in suffrage. Impetratingly
Riseth all prayer as incense ceaselessly
In clouds, by censer-bearing angels; see,
The aroma fills Heaven's Courts, deliciously.
Her Sacrifice, the Church unweariedly
Daily for sinners offereth. We may see
Her sons in throngs all fighting valiantly;
All helping each; each helping all; to be
Crowned with the palm of well-earned victory.
Yet not a prayer; nay, not a sigh will be
Lost on its heavenward way. No babe shall be
Neglected in its simple psalmody.
While earth with Heaven unites, that God may be
Loved above all things, universally.
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote