As the gardener Christ addressing,
Mary very truth believed;
He the Sower gave his blessing
To the seed her heart received;
Not at first his form confessing,
Soon his voice her soul perceived.
She beheld, as yet not knowing
In the mystical disguise,
Christ, who in her breast was sowing
Deep and heavenly mysteries;
Till his voice, her name bestowing,
Bade her hear and recognise.
She to Jesus for him weepeth;
Of her Lord removed complains;
Jesus in her beast she keepeth;
Jesus seeks, yet still retains;
He that soweth, he that reapeth
All her heart, unknown remains.
Why, kind Jesu, why thus hiding,
Why, kind Jesu, why thus hiding,
When thyself thou wouldst reveal?
Why, in Mary’s heart abiding,
From her love thyself conceal?
Why, true Light in her residing,
Can she not thy radiance feel:
O, how strangely thou eludest
Souls that on thee have believed!
But, eluding, ne’er deludest,
Nor deceiving, nor deceived;
But including, still excludest,
Fully known, yet not perceived.
Glory be to God, and honour,
Who, true paschal sacrifice,
Lamb in death, in strife a Lion,
Did the third day Victor rise,
And the spoils of death, as trophies,
Bore triumphant to the skies.
Office Hymn for St Mary Magdalene; tr. unknown
1 comment:
This year it has struck me that if He had been istantly recognizable when He appeared to His friends, then His enemies would have said they were hallucinating.
But He rules that out, by coming in ways their allegedly hallucinating brains could not have conceived.
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