On a Picture
by C. M. Mason
 On Murillo's reverent and spiritual interpretation of
S.	Luke i. 33. "Immaculate Conception"

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CHILD of Art, Spirit-born, 
Our thanks we give
For the still holiness, 
The fair child innocence,
For the worship embodied 
In thee that live!

Well was't to make thee rise, 
Thou woman pure!
Held by slight chain of sin, 
Few earth-tied hopes within,
Drawn to Centre above thee, 
Thy course were sure!

Knowest how high thou art, 
God-seeking soul,
Above all earth's clamour, 
Above the moon's glamour,
Above the thick clouds which still 
Over us roll?

Nay, thy Simplicity 
Knows not its state!

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Into thy joy's pure deep 
Thought of self might not creep, 
And leave thee unconscious still,
Childlike and great.

In air we breathe not yet 
Thy soul doth soar ;
We climb the heights of prayer 
Only by efforts rare :-
But, higher thy dwelling-place, 
Thou dost adore!

The Power of the Highest 
'Tis thine to know :
In fearing the Mystery, 
Adoring the Majesty,
And loving that Love supreme 
All thy powers flow.

What meed to the seer
Who for men brought,
From the innermost shrine, 
'Neath the Shadow divine,
That face, in its purity
Hushing our thought?
¼;