Child,
Seeking the lost on the wild,
Though Thou dost sleep,
Smile on thy sheep
Come to adore.
XXXV
TO THE HOLY CHILD
AS PAINTED BY RAPHAEL
O LORD, Thyself hast taught that sight is not belief;
And yet within Thine eyes I see eternity,
The love which told the dying thief
That he should rest in Paradise
Is there, though Thou art still a Child at Mary’s knee;
The joy of perfect sacrifice
Is there, and that unfathomed grief
In which our griefs have sunk like tears in one wide sea.
XXXVI
MATER AMABILIS
AS PAINTED BY BOTTICELLI
Mary, on the Prince of peace thy gladness
Gleams from radiant eyes;
But their light is touched with passing sadness,
Like our English summer skies.
Angels’ arms above thy head are holding
Crowns of golden stars;
But the baby hands thy breast enfolding
Show to thee their future scars.
Lilies cense thee with their exhalations,
But thy heart has guessed
Slanders of the scoffing generations
Who will call thee cursed, not blessed.
So when clouds of faint foreboding sorrow
From an unknown sea
Come to warn me of a broken morrow,
Mother Mary, pray for me.