LOWLIEST of women, and most glorified! In thy still beauty, sitting calm and lone, A Solemn, yet breathing gladness. From her throne had risen with more imperial eye; queen A stately prophetess of victory From her proud lyre had struck a tempest's tone, For such high tidings as to thee were brought, Chosen of heaven! that hour: but thou, oh, thou! Een as a flower with gracious rains o'er-fraught, Thy virgin head beneath its crown didst bow, And take to thy meek breast the all-holy Word, And own thyself the handmaid of the Lord. Mrs. Hemans. THE SONG OF THE VIRGIN. YET as a sun-burst flushing mountain snow, Which living harps the choirs of heaven among Full many a strain, borne far on glory's blast, No more to memory than a reed's faint sigh; Being of God, and therefore not to die. Mrs. Hemans. MAGNIFICAT. My ravished soul extols His rame, Who rules the world's admired frame: My spirit, with exalted voice, In God my Saviour shall rejoice: Who hath His glorious beams displayed, Upon a poor and humble maid. Me all succeeding ages shall The blessed Virgin-Mother call. The Great, great things for me hath wrought; His sanctity past human thought. His mercy still reflects on those, Who in His truth their trust repose. He with His arm hath wonders shown: The proud in their own pride o'erthrown; 4 The hungry are His welcome guests; He, mindful of His promise, hath For ever to his holy seed. George Sandys. |