THE BLESSED VIRGIN ON
PENTECOST MORNING

Maid and Mother, pure and kind,
’Tis the Whitsun morning;
June hath wearied sun and wind
For the world’s adorning,—
Earth is blossomed like a bride
For the blessed Whitsuntide.

Thrice the mighty Spirit wrought
For thy soul’s completing:
First, thy stainless self He brought
To the world’s entreating;
Next, to work thy “Fiat” came;
Last, He crowns thy brow with
flame.

’Tis Elijah’s olden rite,
Slow the sign preparing:
First, God built thee, altar bright,—
Christ, the Victim, bearing;
Last, from Heaven, at thy desire
Flashed the Lord’s consuming fire.

– Edward F. Garesché, S.J

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