Our Widowed Queen

The Husband of the widow care for her,
The Father of the fatherless:
The faithful Friend, the abiding Comforter,
Watch over her to bless.

Full twenty years of blameless married faith.
Of love and honour questioned not,
Joys, griefs imparted: for the first time Death
Sunders the common lot.

Christ help the desolate Queen upon her throne,
Strengthen her hands, confirm her heart:
For she henceforth must bear a load alone
Borne until now in part.

Christ help the desolate Woman in her home,
Broken of heart, indeed bereft:
Shrinking from solitary days to come,
Beggared though much is left.

Rise up, O Sons and Daughters of the Dead,
Weep with your Mother where she weeps:
Yet not as sorrowing without hope be shed
Your tears: he only sleeps.

Rise up, O Sons and Daughters of the realm,
In pale reflected sorrow move:
Revere the widowed hand that holds the helm,
Love her with double love.

In royal patience of her soul possest
May she fulfil her length of days:
Then may her children rise and call her blest,
Then may her Husband praise.