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 She to, weepeth,

Of her removed complains;

in her breast she keepeth;

seeks, yet still retains:

He That soweth, He That reapeth

All her heart, unknown remains.

Why, kind, why thus hiding,

When Thyself Thou would'st reveal?

Why, in Mary's breast abiding,

From her love Thyself conceal?

Why, True Light, in her residing,

Can she not Its radiance feel?

Oh, how strangely Thou eludest

Souls that on Thee have believ'd!

But eluding, ne'er deludest,

Nor deceiv'st, nor art deceiv'd;

But including, still excludest;

Fully known, yet not perceiv'd.

Laud to Thee and praise for ever,

Life, Hope, Light of every soul!

Through Thy merits may we never

Be inscribed in Death's dark roll,

But with Mary's true endeavour

All our sins, like her, condole! Amen.