Calvary

A Poem by Eugenia Carver

Here is Christ crucified.
Here is Love's oblation raised against the sky.
Here is the High Mass of the World's Redemption
Where Mary's Immaculate Heart is altar stone,
Is thurible for the world's faith, hope and prayer,
Is Mother Heart to all men every where
As to her own.
"Woman," He said, "Behold thy son."
All sons and daughters now Her care.
Again today she stands at Mass,
Her yearning reparation never done.
She lives again the sacrilege of Calvary,
The mindless sacrilege against Divinity,
And Simeon's words again have come to pass.
Here, once again,
Do men, her children, play the traitor's part.
"Now we shall be as Gods," they say,
" and make our heaven here," they say.
They scuff their feet
And throng the altar with their brazen, outstretched hands,
Profaning what they no more understand.

Weep, Sorrowful Mother, weep!
Hatred of heresy needs thy undivided heart;
Needs more than our tears for thy faithless priests.