In her long-ordered way the earth moves on,
The moon doth change with steady law her face,
Swift-growing grass still hides our footsteps’ trace,
And dew falls softly when the day is done:
All nature’s tale seems old, but one thing strange—
The Christ of God a shade the westering sun shall change!
Nay, fear not! Stand to-day as e’er of old
The faithful Maries, who brave vigil keep,
The loved disciple with a love as deep
As in old days lay shrined in heart of gold;