MARY AT THE FEET OF CHRIST by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS

Oh! blest beyond all daughters of the earth!
What were the Orient's thrones to that low seat,
Where thy hushed spirit drew celestial birth?
Mary! meek listener at the Savior'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 wellspring, 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.

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