Invalid rest now, leave behind your
fingers that could not block the sun,
body that barely withstood the pain,
hands you quickly pulled from view,
blood to "weep away the stain".^[1]
 
Blessed bride at peace, show your
light above the darkened graves,
honor in the Pilgrim's^[2] words,
worship in the miracles God sent,
tears for souls unremembered.
 
Lustrous daughter, sustain the parade
of unwelcome guests who eagerly
drag their silent pains before you,
look upon you as a pious freak,
and leave you so much more to do.
 
Gentle and potent, battling saint,
call upon your Spouse for strength,
the faithful saints in present mission,
the love in those who feel abused,
blessed Truth in every vision.
 

¹ Benjamin Britten, Hymn for St. Cecilia's Day
² The Pilgrim was Clement Brentano, a man whose emotions got the better of his early journal writings, they say.