57. For our Lady's Minor Feasts

O Mother! will it always be,
That every passing year
Shall make thee seem more beautiful,
Shall make thee grow more dear I

And art thou really infinite,
That thou shouldst thus unfold
Fresh glories every feast that comes.
New grandeurs yet untold?

We knew thee to be free from stain
As is the sun's white beam;
We knew GocVs Mother must be great
Above what we could dream.

We knew thy sorrows and thy joys;
We knew thee full of grace;
We seemed to know thy very heart,
And the look upon thy face.

Thy crown of apostolic stars,
We knew that it shines bright,
Where angels see thee throned as Queen
Almost beyond their sight.

Yet now it seems we know thee not;
Each feast-day we begin
To know thee in a truer way,
And truer love to win.

For hearts so small as ours we thought
Our love was great and true;
Yet our past love now seems hardly love,
While thy love is so new.

O ^lothcr thou art like the life
The blessed lead above,
Unchanii'eable. yet growing still
In glory and in love.

Thou art. and vet art not. the same;
'Id things pass not away;
Yet thou to-morrow wilt be more
Than tlip Mary of to-day.

Like waxing moons, each holy feast
Thou dost more light disclose;
And our love, as jt watches thine,
Still up to thy love grows.

How close to God, how full of God,
Dear Mother, must thou be!
For still the more we know of God,
The more we think of thee.

This is thy gift — oh give it us! —
To make God better known:
Ah Mother! make Him in our hearts
More grand and more alone.