Where Infinite Might with infinite loving smiled
From frail, sweet lips of Holy Mary’s Child;
Anon where pitying palm-trees shadow gave
To ease the weary exile of their Lord;
On through the humble toil of patient years—
Till, mingling with the Magdalen our tears,
Our heart’s poor vase of precious ointment poured—
We stand, God’s Mother near, with woe beside
The love-pierced feet of Jesus Crucified.