OUR LADY OF UNDERSTANDING
OUR Lady understandsThough prayerful are her folded hands;Her face is paleWithin the azure shadow of her veil.Here in this shrine she seems remote, apart,For the dim centuries have quenched her fire,The slow years molded her to their desire.Ah, still she knowsThe ecstasy that glowsIn my wild heart!Once, not submissive, meekWith pensive brow and duteous cheek,There came a cry exultant, strong;“My soul doth magnify the Lord!”Clear as a ringing swordI hear her song.In high humilityShe knew herself to beThe Chosen of God, the Gate of the Divine.I kneel before her shrine,I gaze upon her tranquil face,Hail Mary, full of grace!I, too, know Love,And I am humble, proud, and wise.Our Lady understandsAll joy, all woe;The Son of God she laid to restUpon her breast,She knew the wounded Hands,And there is nothing else to know.
OUR Lady understandsThough prayerful are her folded hands;Her face is paleWithin the azure shadow of her veil.Here in this shrine she seems remote, apart,For the dim centuries have quenched her fire,The slow years molded her to their desire.Ah, still she knowsThe ecstasy that glowsIn my wild heart!Once, not submissive, meekWith pensive brow and duteous cheek,There came a cry exultant, strong;“My soul doth magnify the Lord!”Clear as a ringing swordI hear her song.In high humilityShe knew herself to beThe Chosen of God, the Gate of the Divine.I kneel before her shrine,I gaze upon her tranquil face,Hail Mary, full of grace!I, too, know Love,And I am humble, proud, and wise.Our Lady understandsAll joy, all woe;The Son of God she laid to restUpon her breast,She knew the wounded Hands,And there is nothing else to know.
OUR Lady understandsThough prayerful are her folded hands;Her face is paleWithin the azure shadow of her veil.Here in this shrine she seems remote, apart,For the dim centuries have quenched her fire,The slow years molded her to their desire.Ah, still she knowsThe ecstasy that glowsIn my wild heart!Once, not submissive, meekWith pensive brow and duteous cheek,There came a cry exultant, strong;“My soul doth magnify the Lord!”Clear as a ringing swordI hear her song.In high humilityShe knew herself to beThe Chosen of God, the Gate of the Divine.I kneel before her shrine,I gaze upon her tranquil face,Hail Mary, full of grace!I, too, know Love,And I am humble, proud, and wise.Our Lady understandsAll joy, all woe;The Son of God she laid to restUpon her breast,She knew the wounded Hands,And there is nothing else to know.