Our Lady of May And Other Poems By Emily Hickey |
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| V. |
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| IX. |
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| X. |
| XI. |
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| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. | XV—Her Joy of Six |
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| XVI. |
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| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
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| XXI. |
| XXII. |
 | Our Lady of May And Other Poems |  |
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XV—Her Joy of Six
The next good joy that Mary had
It was the joy of six;
To see her own Son, Jesus Christ,
Upon the Crucifix.
Old Carol.
It was the joy of six;
To see her own Son, Jesus Christ,
Upon the Crucifix.
Old Carol.
I.
Five of thy joys we think to understand:
Thy bliss to travail of thy Saviour-Son;
Thy joy to look upon the Healing One
Making the lame to go; with helping Hand
Lighting the blinded eyes; thy joy that spanned
An ever-growing girth, when thou hadst known
By the Incarnate Word the Scriptures shown,
And death by life conquered at His command.
Thy bliss to travail of thy Saviour-Son;
Thy joy to look upon the Healing One
Making the lame to go; with helping Hand
Lighting the blinded eyes; thy joy that spanned
An ever-growing girth, when thou hadst known
By the Incarnate Word the Scriptures shown,
And death by life conquered at His command.
And still another joy to thee must come;
Thy dreadful joy of six; to see Him hang
Sin-torn, sin-pierced, sin-fastened on the Tree;
To hear the horror of His cry that rang,
(God's answer by supremest love made dumb)
Why, O My God, hast Thou forsaken Me?
Thy dreadful joy of six; to see Him hang
Sin-torn, sin-pierced, sin-fastened on the Tree;
To hear the horror of His cry that rang,
(God's answer by supremest love made dumb)
Why, O My God, hast Thou forsaken Me?
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II.
We common lovers, common mothers, we
Can joy to see our well-beloved pour
The glory of their gifts of love, of lore,
Of healing at the Church's feet, and see
His likeness set on them rejoicingly:
But when the deep-fanged lions lift the roar,
And rend and slay the anointed gift-bestower
Is joy the heart's heart of our agony?
Can joy to see our well-beloved pour
The glory of their gifts of love, of lore,
Of healing at the Church's feet, and see
His likeness set on them rejoicingly:
But when the deep-fanged lions lift the roar,
And rend and slay the anointed gift-bestower
Is joy the heart's heart of our agony?
Could Mary see His torment and His shame,
Lifted to Love's immeasurable height
Even by the measure of a Cross; and know
Pain lost in joy because of that great sight?
For this, her joy of six, we bless Thy Name,
Father, whose supreme love would have it so!
Lifted to Love's immeasurable height
Even by the measure of a Cross; and know
Pain lost in joy because of that great sight?
For this, her joy of six, we bless Thy Name,
Father, whose supreme love would have it so!
| Our Lady of May And Other Poems | |