SPOUSE OF THE HOLY SPIRIT
As lily bloom in hidden vale,
Remote from worldly care and throng,
A virgin small, immaculate,
Glad spent her days along.
In Israel's Temple, her abode,
The maid her eyes to Heaven cast
Her longings to the Lord addressed
That He would come at last!
In childhood's candid waking age,
The little maid had come to guard
The beauty of her stainless soul
Within the House of God.
Close in its portals every day,
Her gentle lips made melody,
And sang the praise of David's lays
While Angels bent to see.
She sought to fill her finite mind
With wealth of knowledge; more than all,
To love the words of Holy Writ,
To bend her will at grace's call.
She spurned not duty, humble work,
That makes the worthy woman e'er,
She gave her girlish hands with joy
To tasks and household care.
Her soul was wholly God's alone,
It touched not more the things of earth
Than bees, the blushing queen of blooms
In days of August mirth.
Exempt from every trace of sin,
Doing all with pure intent,
She claimed to herself treasures rich...
God's gaze upon her bent.
And now, we find her there again,
Exemplar of the virtues blest;
The Trinity looks from on high
Upon her soul - the best!
Well is the Father pleased with her,
The Son of God regards with pride;
The Holy Spirit rapture finds
To linger at her side.
Again would He, ineffably,
With tender love and wondrous light,
With mildest counsel, dauntless strength,
Her chosen soul make bright.
For comes the moment when to save
The wayward sons of humankind,
A Son of virgin-mother born,
The trail to earth will find.
The virgin who will give to men
The Son of God a fragile lad,
Is Mary, child Immaculate -
But these are tidings glad!
O Mary, virgin, mother, maid,
You little know what dignity
Will be the fruit and recompense
Of your humility!
For very soon, O favoured one,
Your meekness will the Spirit lure
In mystic marriage-feast, unique,
The Lord will overshadow you,
Illume your soul with countless rays,
When in your womb the Word made Flesh
Descends to mend our ways.
Dear little Lady, you will need
To leave your cherished cenacle,
Because such is the will of God,
To work the miracle.
While waiting, Mary, privileged,
Him magnify, His name extol;
One day to serve Him with your hand
Will be your blessed role!
Cyril Robert. Our Lady's Praise in Poetry.
Poughkeepsie, New York: Marist Press, 1944.