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.