Classic Poem

Draw near as early as we may,
Grace, like an angel, goes before.
The stone is roll'd away,
We find an open door.

O, wondrous chain! where aye entwine
Our human wills, a tender thread,
With the strong Will Divine.
We run as we are led.

We, did I say? 'tis all Thine own;
Thou in the dark dost Mary guide.
Thine angel moves the stone,
Love feels Thee at her side.