A Bride of Christ

By J. Corson Miller

Her childhood-years were gay and bright,
As many children's are;
Within her heart she kept a light
Brave-burning, as a star.
With Dawn she laughed, and knew the Night
For magic dreams afar.

In maidenhood she grew apace
With Beauty sweet as Heaven;
There was a glory on her face,
Like roses hushed at even.
She lost not sanctifying grace,
Her virtues, they were seven.

And nightly 'round her hallowed bed
The Angels came to sing;
Unknown, they wove about her head
A mystic bridal-ring.
"Her innocence, for veil," they said,
"She wears, to greet her King."

And one spoke: "See, her hands, how still
They lie upon her breast!
From her dear brow we shall distill,
For Virgin-Mary blest,
A lily-bloom whose incense will
Give some poor sinner rest."

Nay, Womanhood was not for her,
Where Sin and Sorrow 'bide;
She who was long God's chorister,
Gladly took Death for guide.
The day she left, He came for her,
With Love Divine aflame for her--
The Bridegroom for His Bride.

(Source: The Catholic World, October, 1920.)

What a beautiful sentiment this poem depicts. While I would love to delve into this refreshing pool of poetic thought and describe the sweet images this poem paints for me, I think sometimes it's better if I say nothing and let the thoughts you conceive carry your heart to wherever you find it calls you. To wherever that place may be, know that mine is not too far away; I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

To all the virgins of His throne,
In purity His Heart you own.
For all the girls who seek Him thus,
We beg you so, please pray for us.

Santa Gemma, te amo.