Three days and nights the Mother for her Son
In sorrow sought and self-upbraidings meek;
The joy of finding him her patience won:
She sought, and he was found. But for the weak,
The wandering, his patient love must seek
’Mong thorny by-ways of the world to find.
Deign to the King for them a word to speak,
Pray something for them of thy constant mind,
For ever to his Heart all wayward souls to bind.