And how he needed in this second birth,
Even like a yearling child, a fosterer’s care.
Father in Heaven, he cried, thy will be done!
Surely I hoped that I this day should sing
Hosannahs at thy throne; but thou hast yet
Work for thy servant here. He girt his loins,
And from her altar took with reverent hands
Our Lady’s image down: In this, quoth he,
We have our guide and guard and comforter,
The best provision for our perilous way.