How best to let Him grow in us, we learn
From you, Theotokos, mother of our Lord;
How best to hold that hunger when we yearn
His birth in us, all waiting for His Word
Till sheer desire burst – you guide us right;
How best to pray when eagerness or swords
Divide our souls; how, in black night,
To love too rapt for more than gasping words,
You wake us! He touched Jacob on the thigh,
More intimately you, in whom God knit
Himself; still darkling let us lie,
Conceiving with you pondered wonders writ:
“I sought Him whom my body loved in shade,
In secret Whom my panting, piquéd, stayed.”