SANCTA MARIA, MATER DEI

SANCTA MARIA, MATER DEI[1]

Ah, but Our Lady’s holiness was there,

its quality so fair

He had not found the like in seraphim –

and holiness to Him,

even the least, was fairer far

than star transcending splendrous star.

None may gainsay what Luke has said:

that He had but a manger-bed,

but we may meditate how she

who laid Him there ecstatically

shed her dear radiance over all:

angel and ox, rafter and stall.

Sister M Paulinus

America.  22 December 1951

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[1] Holy Mary, Mother of God

CAUSE OF OUR JOY

                                                                CAUSE OF OUR JOY

Because of the darkness

she gives me a star

to blaze the trail,

for the way is far.

Because of the glaciers

 and drifted snow,

she gives me the warmth

of a fire’s glow.

Because of the crags

on the mountain height,

she gives me a rope

to hold me tight.

Because of the depths,

and the storms above,

she gives me herself

with all her love.

Sister M Philip CSC

In: Laube

1961

WONDERFUL NIGHT

WONDERFUL NIGHT

Later, Our Lady was aware –

or half aware – of angels there;

of high bright wings sweeping a floor

as Gabriel’s had done before.

But in the night, the holy night,

Our Lady had no jot of sight

save for her little lovely Son,

the verily adorable One.

Looking with a joy so new on Him,

how had she noticed seraphim?

Sister M   Paulinus

America.  20 December 1941

A CANDLE HAS BEEN LIT FOR ALL MARIAN PRAISE READERS

OUR LADY OF FATIMA

OUR LADY OF FATIMA

Not clad (girl winsomely) in white with sash

of field-flower blue; no replica in mien or hue

of her who stood at Lourdes, framed in a gash

of rock, and poured out healing on our rue.

Nor yet apparelled as that other you

whom eagle-sighted John foreknew and drew:

a woman wearing twelve dread stars for crown,[1]

and the sun, the blinding sun, for a gown.

Folded in light – yea, fleshed in light, Lady,

you turn in mercy towards our century;

against our grim and monster-spawning night,

you stand to smite; yourself, God-wielded light.

The hour is late and evil grows apace

(in unbelief is grief; in pride, quick blight);

turn not away your face, Hope of our race;

in might dash down our dark, Lady of Light.

Sister M Paulinus IHM

America.  22 May 1948

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[1] Apocalypse XII:1

TO TOUCH HIM

TO TOUCH HIM

Lead me, sweet Mary, to stand by your Son,

touch the hem of the garment you made.

I’m praying for healing to flow from him to

this body and spirit God made.

Hear me, dear Mother, and bolster my soul

to take away faintness and fear

I’ve given to doctors my savings and hope

and now to the Master draw near.

Be with me, Mother, for I am so weak,

embarrassed that others should see

the pain and the neediness deep down inside

that have stricken and limited me.

Just let me touch him or brush by his side,

hidden from everyone’s gaze.

Somehow I’m certain that I will receive

a healing to show forth his ways.

Lead me, sweet Mary, to stand by your Son

touch the hem of the garment you made

I’m praying for healing to flow from him to

this body and spirit God made.

Sister M Paul OCD

Little Flower Missionary House

2434 Gates Street.  Los Angeles.  California 90031.  USA.  1995

Used with permission.

DETACHMENT

DETACHMENT

Now the niche is empty;

the torn and tangled vine

will never cling again around

the once close-covered shrine;

But, though the strands are severed,

the roots are strong and deep,

and openly or secretly

the crafty tendrils creep.

Oh, may the Tower of Ivory

draw them, every one,

twine them and train them

and turn them to The Sun!

Sister Moira SNC

In: Laube. 1961