Missing the presence of the Maiden rare
Whose God made her unstained flesh his own;
Who held him on her arms a helpless child,
With love no mother ever knew before;
Holding, when Calvary’s dread hours were o’er,
The Man of Sorrows where her Babe had smiled—
Her arms the cradle of the Almighty One,
Her arms His spotless shroud, life’s labor done.
IV.
Alas! such faith to men denied who grope