Mary at the Feet of Christ

Oh! bless’d beyond all daughters of the earth!
What were the Orient’s thrones to that low seat
Where thy hush’d spirit drew celestial birth,
Mary! meek listener at the Saviour’s feet?
No feverish cares to that divine retreat
Thy woman’s heart of silent worship brought,
But a fresh childhood, heavenly truth to meet
With love, and wonder, and submissive thought.
Oh! for the holy quiet of thy breast,
Midst the world’s eager tones and footsteps flying,
Thou, whose calm soul was like a well-spring, lying
So deep and still in its transparent rest,
That e’en when noontide burns upon the hills,
Some one bright solemn star all its lone mirror fills.