Thro' the stars -- did the sweet statue smile?

I knew not; but Mary, the Mother,
I think, almost envied the priest --
He was taking her place at the altar --
Did she dream of the days in the East?

When her hands, and hers only, held Him,
Her Child, in His waking and rest,
Who had strayed in a love that seemed wayward
This eve to shrine in the West.

Did she dream of the straw of the manger
When she gazed on the altar's pure white?
Did she fear for her Son any danger
In the little Host, helpless, that night?

No! no! she is trustful as He is --
What a terrible trust in our race!
The Divine has still faith in the human --
What a story of infinite grace!

~Tantum Ergo~, high hymn of the altar
That came from the heart of a saint,
Swept triumph-toned all through the temple --
Did my ears hear the sound of a plaint?

'Neath the glorious roll of the singing
To the temple had sorrow crept in?
Or was it the moan of a sinner?