Watching for the Morning Star

O hope and faith to walk through woods on a clouded night

When each creature for his part attendenth thee timidly,

And the cool of dusk o'ertakes the heights now bared to sky

Whose wintry haze guards thy soul against the bite of frost.

One might know, with thy paced and sure comporture that thou,

O thou dost know thy way and dost love thy path through woods.

But e'en as thou dost gladly keep thy course, wherefore,

Wherefore dost thou keep it when thou know'st not where it goes?

Though path be known, and comp'ny sure, whither leads thy light?

It matters not, for there is rest while aught else is night.

Thou enterst in, to find a fitting home secure

So thou dost know how to go, though whither be not sure.

Behold, now thou goest. But with whom? Who doth guide thee on?

Thou know'st thou art not alone to set off far and yon'.

What thou hadst lost thou offerest to the kindly Maid,

And she accepts for service true all thy hands have laid.

But lo, she waits for thee to give thy all, but thou dost not,

Wont to linger on the chance a consequence be sought.

When last seen, a fool's path was still a briar patch,

But now the sinless Virgin hath offerèd its match.

Thus, now thou trustest with whom thou shalt walk: 'tis joy

To enter in, and go out, thy heart in that pure bond:

Thy heart is hers, else is naught, truth is in her hand, for

Life is peace in her strong arms, joy rests upon her breast.