 | Mystic Trees |  |
70
OUR LADY'S PRAYER
“They have no wine!” Sweet Lady, dost thou care
The bridegroom groweth pale,
The marriage-feast doth fail?
“They have no wine!” Sweet Lady, thou dost care;
Thou giv'st this sorrow for thy Son to share—
“They have no wine!”
The bridegroom groweth pale,
The marriage-feast doth fail?
“They have no wine!” Sweet Lady, thou dost care;
Thou giv'st this sorrow for thy Son to share—
“They have no wine!”
Christ fills for thee the water-pots with wine!
The bridegroom's face doth flush,
The guests are all a-rush ...
We have no wine! More deeply must thou plead!
And from a spear-point to man's utter need
It will be won,
Mother, the day that John is made thy son!
The bridegroom's face doth flush,
The guests are all a-rush ...
We have no wine! More deeply must thou plead!
And from a spear-point to man's utter need
It will be won,
Mother, the day that John is made thy son!
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