The Cross--the Crown of all Thy love;
While, sapphire wing on sapphire wing,
About Thee choiring angels swing
Gold censers, and bright candles bear.
Because I have no heart to sing,
I come to Thee with all my care,
Notre Dame de la Belle-Verrière.
Because the sword hath pierced Thy side,
Thy brows are crowned with circling gold.
The woe of all the world doth hide