And all his merits places upon me....
Come, Saviour, make thy mercies known....
Jesus for me was crucified:
For me the bitter death endured,
For me eternal life procured.[401]
It has been said that Margaret's poems are theology in rhyme. It is true that her verses are not so elegant as those of our age, and that their spirit is more theological than the poetry of our days; but the theology is not that of the schools, it is that of the heart. What specially irritated the Sorbonne was the peace and assurance that Margaret enjoyed, precious privilege of a redeemed soul, which scholasticism had condemned beforehand. The queen, leaning upon the Saviour, seemed to have no more fear. 'Listen again,' said Beda:
Satan, where is now thy tower?
Sin, all withered is thy power.
Pain or death no more I fear,
While Jesus Christ is with me here.