On Thy name all divine have I rested
In the days when my heart-trials came;
Sweet Christ, like to Thee I am human,
And I need Mary's pure human name.
Did I hear a voice? or was I dreaming?
I heard — or I sure seemed to hear —
"Who blames you for loving My Mother
Is wronging my heart — do not fear.
"I am human, e'en here in My heavens,
What I was I am still all the same;
And I still love My beautiful Mother —
And thou, priest of Mine, do the same."
I was happy — because I am human —
And Christ in the silences heard
"Our Father", "Hail Mary", "Our Father",
Murmured faithfully word after word.
* * * * *
Swept the beautiful ~O Salutaris~
Down the aisles — did the starred statue stir?
Or was my heart only a-dreaming
When it turned from her statue and her?
The door of a white tabernacle
Felt the touch of the hand of the priest —
Did he waken the Host from its slumbers
To come forth and crown the high Feast?
To come forth so strangely and silent,
And just for a sweet little while,
And then to go back to its prison.
Thro' the stars — did the sweet statue smile?
I knew not; but Mary, the Mother,
I think, almost envied the priest —
He was taking her place at the altar —
Did she dream of the days in the East?
When her hands, and hers only, held Him,
Her Child, in His waking and rest,
Who had strayed in a love that seemed wayward
This eve to shrine in the West.