Mothers

Mary, when the childing pain
Made thy patient eyes grow dim,
Of that anguish wert thou fain,
Wert thou glad because of Him?
How thou smiledst in thy woe
Every mother’s heart doth know.

Mary, when the helpless Child
Nursed and slumbered at thy breast,
In the rosy form and mild
Didst thou see the Heavenly Guest?
Such a guest from Paradise
Gladdens every mother’s eyes.