Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.

O sweet mother, gentle woman, forever blessed,

You come and knock at my door,

You seek your Christ, your Son,

'Is he in here?'

I dare not say, my lady, for I fear to disappoint.

Yet even in my disappointment

I am filled, sustained, made whole

By the love of Whom you seek,

But it is not really He for whom you search,

It is I, for I am the one lost,

The one whom you and your Christ wish to bring back

To Him, for my sake, for his glory, through his love.

For often I wander

Far from your world, yet never far from your eyes,

From his eyes, from my own.

For though I seek and stray,

I am gently watched,

Lovingly held,

Graciously bound.

Something within me stirs—

May I be according to his Word.