34 REDEMPTION.
My ardent vision on the throne of God,
And there my hymn of praise indite, from whence
Begins the dignity sublime, the name
And title, Mother of God. There only
May I pause, there only essay to sing.
In Tisri, when the holocaustal rites, As incense to the throne on high, arose, Mary, the virgin Mother of the Lord, Perfect in beauty, rich in heav'nly grace, Was born. How all thy beauty wanes, fair Eve, Before this peerless one, the spotless dove, Th' unsullied mirror of th' Almighty's form. And who, that hath creative power to make Or mold, would constitute his mother less? If none be found, e'en of the fallen race, How much less He, whose power omnipotent, Performs and orders as he lists; who made The angels perfect at a word, and man Immaculate from clay; who sanctifies His prophets in the womb, and each befits For his predestined task; how much less He, Whose infinite purity, commixtion With th' unclean, forbids, whose sanctity shrinks From the taint of sin, and with the sinful Doth disdain to dwell, the chosen vessel, Whence was derived his flesh, would not refuse Perfection's utmost meed. So second Eve Was made, whose substance gave him human form, Whose womb begot, whose blood flows in his veins, Whose paps gave suck; who, th' almighty Architect, Cradled upon her knee, clasp'd to her breast Enrapt, and fondly nurtured in her arms.
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