SWEET maiden, I would be like thee,
     As heavenward, eye, and thought, and heart;
And foot, as lightly, to the earth,
     Like greyhound, straining on the start;
As closely to the Cross, I'd cling,
     And lean as simply on its stay;
The things of earth, all thistle down,
     As hindrances, along my way.

Sweet maiden, by that scollop shell,
     Thy thoughts are, where the Saviour lay;
And towards His tomb, thy steps are bent,
     To wait, and watch, and weep, and pray;
And I, my heart, would bury, there,
     As dead to self, as dead to sin;
With thee, His Cross, on earth, to bear,
     With thee, His Crown, in heaven, to win.

Project Canterbury