 | Devotional Poems |  |
13
OF THE SWEET MOTHER
7
CONCEPTA EST MARIA—I
O ye four winds of Paradise,
Breathe to and fro,
That odours from the beds of spice
To God may go;
While the four rivers of Paradise
In rhythm shall flow,
And all the bloom of Paradise
For God shall blow.
Breathe to and fro,
That odours from the beds of spice
To God may go;
While the four rivers of Paradise
In rhythm shall flow,
And all the bloom of Paradise
For God shall blow.
Breathe, ye four winds of Paradise,
North, south, east, west;
News of the great and sweet emprize
Bear on your breast:
How the All-good, All-strong, All-wise,
In dear behest,
Sendeth to dwell beneath our skies
A stainless guest.
Breathe it, O winds of Paradise,
North, south, east, west.
North, south, east, west;
News of the great and sweet emprize
Bear on your breast:
How the All-good, All-strong, All-wise,
In dear behest,
Sendeth to dwell beneath our skies
A stainless guest.
Breathe it, O winds of Paradise,
North, south, east, west.
Flow, ye four rivers of Paradise,
East, west, north, south,
Water the earth so long that lies
In sorry drouth;
Rivers that flow beneath God's eyes—
Words of His mouth,
Flow, ye four rivers of Paradise,
East, west, north, south.
East, west, north, south,
14
In sorry drouth;
Rivers that flow beneath God's eyes—
Words of His mouth,
Flow, ye four rivers of Paradise,
East, west, north, south.
Bloom, all ye flowers of Paradise,
In bright array;
Bow, all ye flowers of Paradise,
Your heads to-day;
Lift them, and let all scents arise
Wherewith to say
The perfect Rose of Paradise
Buds forth to-day.
In bright array;
Bow, all ye flowers of Paradise,
Your heads to-day;
Lift them, and let all scents arise
Wherewith to say
The perfect Rose of Paradise
Buds forth to-day.
8
CONCEPTA EST MARIA—II
To-day within God's Eden-garth is sown
Seed that shall be a plant for Him alone.
Seed that shall be a plant for Him alone.
To-day doth time the fair foundation see
Of God's high fane of gold and ivory.
Of God's high fane of gold and ivory.
That perfect plant shall bloom with Flower of God:
That hallowed temple by His feet be trod.
That hallowed temple by His feet be trod.
15
Full many a lily soul of God's delight;
But none like Mary's soul, effulgent white.
But none like Mary's soul, effulgent white.
Full many a soul rose-red in love's true glow;
But none like hers that fire and light shall know.
But none like hers that fire and light shall know.
And many a virgin hears the Bridegroom's call;
But His own spotless one excels them all.
But His own spotless one excels them all.
Bear it aloft, the word that cannot fail;
Hail, O thou full of grace, hail, Mary, hail!
Hail, O thou full of grace, hail, Mary, hail!
Mother most pure, Maiden most glorious,
Mary Immaculate, oh, pray for us.
Mary Immaculate, oh, pray for us.
9
MATER AMABILIS
Mater Amabilis,
Ora pro nobis!
Love-worthy Mother,
Pray for your children.
Ora pro nobis!
Love-worthy Mother,
Pray for your children.
Among the host of lovely names you bear,
O Mary, there is none more perfect-sweet
Than that whereby your children ever greet
Their Mother in the dear Lorettan prayer,
Wherein, O God's beloved, they call you this—
Mater Amabilis!
O Mary, there is none more perfect-sweet
Than that whereby your children ever greet
Their Mother in the dear Lorettan prayer,
Wherein, O God's beloved, they call you this—
Mater Amabilis!
16
Love-worthy Mother, you, love-worthy Maid,
Whom all the generations rise to bless,
Drew God to you in your love-worthiness,
Which could accept Himself, nor be afraid,
Nor aught of grace magnificent could miss,—
Mater Amabilis!
Whom all the generations rise to bless,
Drew God to you in your love-worthiness,
Which could accept Himself, nor be afraid,
Nor aught of grace magnificent could miss,—
Mater Amabilis!
Love-worthy Mother, far and far doth reach
Beyond the deepest depth, the highest height,
Into the one illimitable light,
What we essay to body forth in speech,
Feeble, yet stronger for love's emphasis,—
Mater Amabilis!
Beyond the deepest depth, the highest height,
Into the one illimitable light,
What we essay to body forth in speech,
Feeble, yet stronger for love's emphasis,—
Mater Amabilis!
Our earth in perfect fealty you trod,
You only found all-fair, all-pure, all-true;
Thrice worthy of the love we bring to you,
The one found worthy of the love of God;
Bear us on that dear Heart of yours to His,—
Mater Amabilis!
You only found all-fair, all-pure, all-true;
Thrice worthy of the love we bring to you,
The one found worthy of the love of God;
Bear us on that dear Heart of yours to His,—
Mater Amabilis!
Sweet Mother, worthy of the Worthiest,
Stoop down to us and take the love that we,
Unworthy children, offer willingly,
O Mother, who have borne Him on your breast!
Those lovely feet of yours we bend to kiss,—
Mater Amabilis!
Stoop down to us and take the love that we,
Unworthy children, offer willingly,
O Mother, who have borne Him on your breast!
Those lovely feet of yours we bend to kiss,—
Mater Amabilis!
17
10
PRAY FOR ME, MOTHER OF GOD!
Pray for me, Mother of God! To you I cry.
Pray for me, Mother, now and the hour I die.
Pray for me, Mother, now and the hour I die.
O if too weak to call on your darling name
When the now and the hour of my death are one and the same,
When the now and the hour of my death are one and the same,
Failing of tongue, as failing of eye and of ear,
Still on the beat of my heart my Mother shall hear
Still on the beat of my heart my Mother shall hear
Sweetest of names e'er given to the earth save One,
Mother of mine, your name with the name of your Son.
Mother of mine, your name with the name of your Son.
Jesus! Mary! O dearest and loveliest!
His name on yours, as erst His head on your breast.
His name on yours, as erst His head on your breast.
Pray for me, Mother,—Oh, pray for me now, I cry!
God only knows if it be this hour I die.
God only knows if it be this hour I die.
11
OUR LADY'S CROWNS
He crowned thee first, O Blessed One, with grace,
And set thee, from thy fair conception hour,
Creation's perfect seed and plant and flower,
Beautiful in the brightness of His Face.
And set thee, from thy fair conception hour,
Creation's perfect seed and plant and flower,
Beautiful in the brightness of His Face.
18
He crowned thee next with joy, child of His love,—
The joy wherein His whole world had its part;
The supreme joy that waited for thy heart,
Seeing none else could bear the weight thereof.
The joy wherein His whole world had its part;
The supreme joy that waited for thy heart,
Seeing none else could bear the weight thereof.
And next He crowned thee with His sorrow,—thee
He called upon His crucifixion morn,
And girt thy brows with His own piercing thorn,
And clothed thee with His purple of mockery.
He called upon His crucifixion morn,
And girt thy brows with His own piercing thorn,
And clothed thee with His purple of mockery.
And last, in splendour full, of light and sound,
In all the exultant sheen of Heaven's high day,
He set thee in thy queendom, there for aye
With glory everlasting robed and crowned.
In all the exultant sheen of Heaven's high day,
He set thee in thy queendom, there for aye
With glory everlasting robed and crowned.
12
TO THE MOTHER, FOR THOSE WHO
ARE IN BONDS
Sweet Mary Mother, of thy charity,
Look down from heaven's high glory and joy to bless
The holy ones on whom doth sorely press
The mightiness of their desire to see
His lovely face who died to set them free.
Thou knowest they suffer sore for home-sickness;
For that dear sight they pine in deep distress,
In their own country they are fain to be.
Look down from heaven's high glory and joy to bless
The holy ones on whom doth sorely press
The mightiness of their desire to see
His lovely face who died to set them free.
Thou knowest they suffer sore for home-sickness;
For that dear sight they pine in deep distress,
In their own country they are fain to be.
19
Pray for them, Mother, who know in such desire
Pain vaster far than earth's most heavy woe,
Because Love's fire transcends all other fire.
O Mother, pray for them that they may know,
These who in waiting and longing suffer so,
The call bidding His darlings come up higher.
Pain vaster far than earth's most heavy woe,
Because Love's fire transcends all other fire.
O Mother, pray for them that they may know,
These who in waiting and longing suffer so,
The call bidding His darlings come up higher.
13
IMMACULATA, ORA PRO NOBIS
A father's little chidren disobeyed
His household laws, and grieved him very sore;
And they, having grieved him, grieved, and so no more
Was the old joyaunce by the children made.
His household laws, and grieved him very sore;
And they, having grieved him, grieved, and so no more
Was the old joyaunce by the children made.
Because their hearts away from him had strayed,
(Never his heart from them), they did implore
One sister who was love to the heart's core
To ask for pardon, they ashamed, afraid.
(Never his heart from them), they did implore
One sister who was love to the heart's core
To ask for pardon, they ashamed, afraid.
She went, and love-like, looked up to his face,
Saying, Forgive them! And the father smiled
Upon his one love-perfect little child.
Saying, Forgive them! And the father smiled
Upon his one love-perfect little child.
I give thee thy sweet prayer, O full of grace:
I pardon them, My dove, My undefiled:
I set My children in their old dear place.
I pardon them, My dove, My undefiled:
I set My children in their old dear place.
20
14
TO THE QUEEN OF THE MOST HOLY
ROSARY
Give me a rose, my Mother,
A rose, I pray,
Out of your fadeless garden,
All fresh to-day;
Upon the scentful petals
Your blessing lay,
And give me, Queen and Mother,
A rose, I pray.
A rose, I pray,
Out of your fadeless garden,
All fresh to-day;
Upon the scentful petals
Your blessing lay,
And give me, Queen and Mother,
A rose, I pray.
What colour will the rose be,
O Mother bright?
Purer than the argent moonshine,
Of cloudless night;
Whiter than snow sun-smitten
On Alpine height;
White with your own soul's whiteness,
God's matchless white.
Yes, give me, dear my Mother,
This rose of white.
O Mother bright?
Purer than the argent moonshine,
Of cloudless night;
Whiter than snow sun-smitten
On Alpine height;
White with your own soul's whiteness,
God's matchless white.
Yes, give me, dear my Mother,
This rose of white.
Or will the petals, Mother,
Be crimson-dyed,
Red as your own Compassion,
The ebbless tide
That flowed at full when Jesus
Hung crucified?
Give me this rose, my Mother,
Deep-crimson-dyed.
Be crimson-dyed,
Red as your own Compassion,
The ebbless tide
21
Hung crucified?
Give me this rose, my Mother,
Deep-crimson-dyed.
Another rose, O Mother,
A rose of gold,
Each petal a ray of glory,
The glory untold
Of the light of the Sun of Justice,
Your hand doth hold—
O Mother mine, that fairest—
That rose of gold.
A rose of gold,
Each petal a ray of glory,
The glory untold
Of the light of the Sun of Justice,
Your hand doth hold—
O Mother mine, that fairest—
That rose of gold.
Two roses, white and crimson,
Of your fair grace,
Give to my bosom's keeping,
And bid me trace
In purity and loving,
With steadfast pace,
The way to the unveiled splendour
Of Jesus' Face.
The Golden Rose that is not
Of time or space.
Of your fair grace,
Give to my bosom's keeping,
And bid me trace
In purity and loving,
With steadfast pace,
The way to the unveiled splendour
Of Jesus' Face.
The Golden Rose that is not
Of time or space.
| Devotional Poems | |