38. To our Blessed Lady

Mother of Mercy! day by day
My love of thee grows more and more;
Thy gifts are strewn upon my way,
Like sands upon the great sea-shore.

Though poverty and work and woe
The masters of my life may be,
When times are worst, who does not know
Darkness is light, with love of thee?

But scornful men have coldly said
Thy love was leading me from God j
And yet in this I did but tread
The very path my Saviour trod.

They know but little of thy worth
Who speak these heartless words to me;
For what did Jesus love on earth
One half so tenderly as thee?

Get me the grace to love thee more;
Jesus will give if thou wilt plead;
And, Mother! when life's cares are o'er,
Oh I shall love thee then indeed!

Jesus, when His three hours were run,
Bequeath'd thee from the cross to me;
And oh! how can I love thy Son,
Sweet Mother; if I love not thee?
Scarborough, May, 18lt8.