In Festo Nativitatis Ad Matrem Virginem Hymnus Eucharisticus

Mater Jesu mei,
Mater magni Dei,
Doce me de Eo,
De parvo dulci Deo.
Quantum amavisti
Quem tu concepisti,
Non concipiendum,
Dominum tremendum,
Sed in te contractum,
Verbum carnem factum?
Et contemnit idem
Ne cor meum quidem:
Meum cor indignum
Quod capiat tantum signum,
Indignum O quod gerat
Qui mane mecum erat,
Subit, O Maria,
In eücharistia.
Ipse vult intrare:
Nolo me negare.
Candens exemplare,
Doce me amare.
Dic ut plus ametur
Qualis videretur
Vulva dum lateret,
Necdum appareret,
Cum tua fecit laetam
Vox Elisabetham,
Laetam matre matrem,
Laetum fratre fratrem.
Doce me gaudere,
Rosa, tuo vere,
Virga, tuo flore,
Vellus, tuo rore,
Arca, tua lege,
Thronus, tuo rege,
Acies, tuo duce,
Luna, tua luce,
Stella, tuo sole,
Parens, tua prole.
Nam tumeo et abundo
Immundo adhuc mundo;
Sum contristatus Sanctum
Spiritum et planctum
Custodi feci meo
Cum exhiberem Deo
Laesum atque caesum
In mea carne Jesum.
Demum quid sensisti
Ipsum cum vidisti
Tandem visu pleno
Parvulum in foeno,
Ecce tremebundum
Qui fixum firmat mundum
Et involutum pannos
Qui aeternos annos
Nondum natus de te
Volvebat in quiete?
Quae tu tum dicebas
Et quae audiebas?
Etsi fuit mutus
Tamen est locutus.
Da complecti Illum,
Mihi da pauxillum
Tuo ex amore
Et oscula ab ore.
Qui pro me vult dari,
Infans mihi fari,
Mecum conversari,
Tu da contemplari,
Mater magni Dei,
Mater Jesu mei.

Mother of my Jesus,
Mother of God so great,
tell me of him,
of God so small and sweet.
How much did you love
the enfleshed Word,
the formidable Lord
pent up in you,
whom—inconceivable—
you conceived?
He does not disdain
even this heart of mine.
On my heart unworthy
of such an overture,
unworthy of his visit
who came at morn to me,
he drops in, O Mary,
Eucharistically.
It is his wish to enter,
I will not tell him no.
Shining paragon,
show me how to love.
That I may love him more,
tell me how it seemed when,
with him hid in your womb
and not ready to appear,
your voice rejoiced
Elizabeth,
made mother joyous in a mother
and brother joyous in a brother.
Stir in me gladness,
Rose, at your spring,
Sprig, at your flowering,
Fleece, at your dew,
Ark, at your law,
Throne, at your king,
Phalanx, at your marshal,
Moon, at your whiteness,
Morning Star, at your brightness,
Parent, at your child.
For I am gravid and swirling
with worldliness still whirling awry.
I have grieved the Holy Ghost
and made my angel
guardian groan,
presenting to God,
with my sinful flesh,
Jesus lashed and gashed.
What did you then feel
when at last you saw,
plain to see in the straw,
trembling and rolled up in rags,
the child who spins the world on its peg
and who, before you ever bore him,
unrolled in stillness
endless years before him?
What were the things
you said and, more,
what were the things
you listened for?
Although he spoke no word,
he is the Word you heard.
Let me hold him,
give me for him
a touch of your love
and for him the touch of your kiss.
Him who wants to give me himself—
this wisp of a babe who would whisper
and have me spend my days with him—
help me keep my gaze on him,
Mother of God so great,
Mother of my Jesus.