CXXIV.CHRIST THE WAY.
I
To sin and earth and sorrow tributary,
We lift our thoughts to thee, O blissful Mary!
Oh! stainless Maid and mightiest Mother! thou
Wert the mysterious gate where, stooping low,
The King of glory entered, first and last
And only One who by that portal passed.
To thee our love we offer; while we pray,
Poor suitors, unto Him who in thee lay,
That we may walk in His new living Way.
II
Poor suitors are we to thy Son, O Mary!
Like us to death and sorrow tributary,
But not to sin; and who did deign to call
Substance from thee, a Body virginal,
And with the Godhead set it side by side,
For us vouchsafing to be sanctified:
In Person one, of Natures twain: we pray,
Poor suitors, unto Him who in thee lay,
That we may walk in His new living Way.
III
We are environed by the world, O Mary!
Bondsmen, disconsolate, and tributary;
Him, who did once environ thy blest womb,
We seek, to cleave our way from out the gloom:—
He the strayed soul to its Creator lifts,
Replenishing our nature with the gifts
Of His own near Divinity: we pray,
Poor suitors, unto Him who in thee lay,
That we may walk in His new living Way.
IV
We cannot lift ourselves, O blissful Mary!
We to low thoughts, base ends are tributary:
We cannot lift ourselves unto the height
Of such chaste marvel; for the abounding light,
From that exalted Human Body given,
Strikes blind the eye too much upraised to Heaven.
Man's nature sits with God: to Him we pray,
To Him who, God and Man, within thee lay,
That we may walk in His new living Way.
V
O Mother-Maid! O fellow-mortal Mary!
Was not thy Son, like mortals, tributary
To hunger and to thirst, to hopes and fears?
Hath He not sanctified the power of tears,
The beauty and the holiness of weeping?
Hath He not given back into our keeping
A nature newly consecrated? Say,
Should we not kneel to Him who in thee lay,
Thy womb His road, who is Himself our Way?
VI
He who within thee lay, O blissful Mary!
And to a creature's birth was tributary,
Unto the Father yielding back His breath,
Gave Himself up a vassal unto death,
Death's serf, the three-days' bondsman, and the last,
For He hath burst the prison as He passed.
Death hath become transparent: let us pray
To Him who rent the envious veil away,
Breaking through that dread house a living Way.
VII
And what high bliss hath not thy Son, O Mary!
Made to Eve's fallen house hereditary?
Man saw Him rise aloft with lucid track,
And by that road man still expects Him back.
Clear across death and paradise are strown
Footprints of light that end but on the Throne
At God's Right Hand. Oh let us fall and pray
With the great Seraphim that burn all day,
Worshipping Man in God, man's living Way.
VIII
And as He left thee to His Saint, O Mary,
Pierced with a sword, woe's meekest tributary,
So He bequeathed the Church unto the Spirit
To teach her what great things she doth inherit;
In which sweet Spirit do we come and go,
We risen with Christ, or He with us below,
Man ever close to God: oh let us pray,
Bending most reverent knees both night and day,
To Him, in whom we stand, our present Way.
IX
Is not His ancient priesthood, blissful Mary!
A deep yet most untroubled commentary
Upon men's cries and tears by day or night,
Pleading all woes before His Father's sight?
And for the voiceful Church and poor mute world
Doth He not keep His potent Cross unfurled,
Lengthening its shadows upon sin? O pray
Unto the Priest who ministereth all day,
Making His Flesh man's Shelter and his Way.
X
He is the Priest of priests, O blissful Mary!
Whose earthly types with right hereditary,
As on the bosom of an unstained sea,
Reflect His priesthood in the Mystery
Of the dread Altar, giving Flesh for food,
Pouring into the frame from urn of Blood
The power of resurrection: let us pray
To Him whose Five Benignant Wounds all day
Stand open to the Church, an awful Way.
XI
He is our Way, our dreadest Way, O Mary!
(May He remember me His tributary!)
Our dreadest Way; for it is only given
Through His great Judgment-Seat to enter Heaven—
Judgment according to our works! the creed
Could not be borne were not the Judge indeed
A Man of thy true substance: let us pray
Unto the Virgin's Son, that in His Day
We perish not by that most fiery Way.
XII
O whitest Flower! O ever-blessèd Mary!
To what high purpose wert thou tributary!
How wert thou chosen for the stainless Birth,
Mother of God! chaste Lily of the earth!
Lead us to Jesus, Mother! for us part
The veils that hang before the Sacred Heart.
All prayers are to thine honor, which we pray
To Him who, God and Man, within thee lay,
Thy womb His Road, who is Himself our Way!
