With sinking hearts and minds disturbed and sad,
They follow the rough crowd along the road,
They see the mocking soldiers, priests and guards,
They see the Master with His heavy load,
A yearning tugs their hearts, "What can we do?"
For priestly power yields naught but pain and loss
Yet clinging to vain hope, they follow still -
Those brave and faithful women of the Cross.
And even when their feeblest hope is dead,
The temple veil is rent, His Spirit gone.
And all seems dark, the Master's tomb is sealed
And doubly watched - their glorious faith lives on.
They take their herbs, His Body to embalm,
Roll back the stone! The stone that speaks of doom,
But Mary hears a voice - the living Christ
Has justified the women at the tomb.
And so throughout the passing of the years
Has God been speaking oft to womankind,
And by a mother's word - a mother's love
Has saved some wand'ring soul to sin resigned;
And many Marys and their sisters true
Have, through a ministry of love outpoured,
Been faithful to those brave and saintly few
And proved themselves true women of the Lord.
Douglas Blain
Faith for Daily Living, Number 491 - March/April 2019, Page 3
From"The Cross in Poetry and Prayer" ed. A.C. Blain
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