I
AD MATREM, SANCTAM ECCLESIAM
O my Mother, fair exceeding, with the lovely smile august,
And the true lips, ever pleading for the holy things and just,
To thy little one's great needing Thou hast bent thy gracious heeding,
And hast bidden her to love thee, as she must.
For thy love of love has won her, and the Voice Divine has said,
“'Tis the Mother, look upon her, of my living, of my dead!”
And the radiancy and honour of thy chrism, O glorious donor,
And the blessing of thy mouth are on her head.
Storm-clouds far away have drifted, chased by splendour of thine eyes,
And, with peace and joy fair-gifted, here, thy little child, she lies,
By thine arms of comfort lifted where, upon the Rock unrifted,
God hath set thee, Bride of Jesus, perfectwise.
In that peace and joy's bestowing, thou hast spoken to her heart,
Saying, “Child, in all thy going let thy brothers' needs have part:
For my strayed, for my unknowing, for my holy saved, still owing,
Mine to love and suffer, pray and trust, thou art.”
