How lovingly she looked on Him Through eyes yet young and mild! How tender her imaginings For this her first-born child! And when she heard the anthems That filled the winter sky, And when she saw the costly gifts She did not wonder why The angels sang of her son, Or why the kings knelt down. For Mary, blessed Mary, knew, (A knowledge all her own) The promise of the Angel, Her Son would have a throne. But Mary, youthful Mary, When first thou heardst His cry, Didst thou see, too, the shadow Of Cross against the sky? |