Classic Poem

Die Mutter-Gottes zu Kevlaar

The Mother of God in Kevlaar
Puts on her finest cloak —
To-day they will keep her busy,
The crowds of wretched folk.

For all the sick in Kevlaar
Bring her, as offerings meet,
Limbs made of cunning waxwork,
Wax arms and waxen feet.

And whoso brings a wax arm
His arm is healed of its wound,
And whoso brings a wax foot
His foot grows strong and sound.

Oh many have come to Kevlaar
On crutches who danced away;
And many whose fingers were palsied
Can take up the fiddle and play.

The mother took up a wax light
And moulded therefrom a heart;
" Take this to Mother Mary
And She will ease the smart. "

And sighing he took the wax heart,
And sighing he knelt and prayed;
The tears in his eyes were trembling,
And tremblingly he said:

" Oh Holiest of the Holy,
Virgin, divinely fair,
Empress of all the Heavens
To Thee I bring my care.

" At Coln with my aging mother
I live within the town,
The city of a hundred churches
And chapels of renown.

" And near us lived my Gretchen
Who now lies underground —
Mary, I bring Thee a wax heart,
Heal Thou my heart's great wound.

" Cure Thou my long heart-sickness,
And daily, rain or shine,
Fervently I will worship.
Queen Mary, praise be Thine! "