Our Tainted Nature's Solitary Boast...

I have often used Wordsworth's beautiful line about Our Lady: "our tainted nature's solitary boast," but was not familiar with the whole poem.



Thanks to the Internet I found it in only a few seconds, and found it so beautiful I thought I might post it as a prelude to Christmas. Our Lady, seat of wisdom yet simple in her holiness, prepares for the birth of her Divine Son. Who is this Virgin to receive and bear such a gift? Who is this simple girl to be the instrument of the worlds coming salvation? Who is this woman whose heart too would be pierced?



She is Mary, the Mother of God and Our Mother, preserved from sin and entrusted to all who would seek to be beloved Disciples, ever Immaculate and ever Virgin, mother and maiden, wiser than Solomon yet simple in her humility. Mary.

Mary, meek and humble, pray for us.

God love you.
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Mother! whose virgin bosom was uncrost
With the least shade of thought to sin allied;
Woman! above all women glorified,
Our tainted nature's solitary boast;
Purer than foam on central ocean tost;
Brighter than eastern skies on daybreak strewn
With fancied roses, then the unblemished moon
Before her wane begins on heaven’s blue coast;
Thy image falls to earth. Yet some, I ween
Not unforgiven the suppliant knee might bend
As to a visible Power, in which did bend
All that was mixed and reconciled in Thee
Of mother’s love with maiden purity

Of high with low, celestial with terrene!