Our Lady of May And Other Poems By Emily Hickey |
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 | IX. |
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| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. | XIX—Her First Eucharist |
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| XXI. |
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 | Our Lady of May And Other Poems |  |
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XIX—Her First Eucharist
It was that lovely day whereon
The King of kings, the maiden's Son,
In broken Bread, in Wine out-poured,
Came lowly to His altar-throne,
According to His will and word.
The King of kings, the maiden's Son,
In broken Bread, in Wine out-poured,
Came lowly to His altar-throne,
According to His will and word.
And she who bare her Lord, and bare
His children in her heart's sweet care,
Took of the Bread which maketh one
With Him and all His ransomed there,
In holiest communion.
His children in her heart's sweet care,
Took of the Bread which maketh one
With Him and all His ransomed there,
In holiest communion.
That heart whose love so well He wist,
That mouth His childhood brows that kissed,
That soul whose will was Jesus' will,
Received Him in the Eucharist,
Even as His Church receives Him still.
That mouth His childhood brows that kissed,
That soul whose will was Jesus' will,
Received Him in the Eucharist,
Even as His Church receives Him still.
No more within her arms to rest,
No more to need her tending blest,
And yet no faithful bond undone,
The God in flesh made manifest,
Flesh of her flesh, Bone of her bone.
No more to need her tending blest,
And yet no faithful bond undone,
The God in flesh made manifest,
Flesh of her flesh, Bone of her bone.
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What soul of man can dare to pry
Into this well of mystery,
Wherein He saith by seal and sign,
Spirit to spirit, It is I,
Myself, beneath the Bread and Wine?
Into this well of mystery,
Wherein He saith by seal and sign,
Spirit to spirit, It is I,
Myself, beneath the Bread and Wine?
Oh, by the grace that stoopeth low,
And by the light that pales the glow
Of meaner light eternally,
And by the love too vast to know—
What can it be, or who, but He?
And by the light that pales the glow
Of meaner light eternally,
And by the love too vast to know—
What can it be, or who, but He?
And if beneath that Bread, that Wine,
He feedeth every soul as thine,
O Mary, with His Body thus;
He giveth not His gift divine
Less unto thee, but more to us.
He feedeth every soul as thine,
O Mary, with His Body thus;
He giveth not His gift divine
Less unto thee, but more to us.
Yet, though to all He giveth free
His Gift of gifts, it needs must be
The heart His love makes deep and broad
Receives by its capacity
The fullest fulness of its God.
His Gift of gifts, it needs must be
The heart His love makes deep and broad
Receives by its capacity
The fullest fulness of its God.
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