Mary Queen of all Saints

Mary, Queen of All Saints

Queen of All saints

The little one raised her eyes, and gazed through the great Nicanor gate to the gleaming Holy of Holies. The old High Priest in his stately garments, surrounded by white-robed virgins with softly shining candles, received her in love, and listened to the whispered prayer that fell from her childish lips.

How reverently God’s angels must have hovered about their little Queen as she passed through the high-arched cloisters! Only three years had she been on earth, a lily purer than the fairest flower, golden-hearted, untouched by the slightest stain.

Saint Anne and Saint Joachim watched her, until the last gleam of her candle faded in the distance, and the sweet singing of the Temple virgins died softly away. Then slowly and sadly they turned homewards, to that house that never again would be so full of happiness.

The years passed, and Mary grew fairer in soul and body in their passing. It is said that the timid doves loved to nestle in her arms, and hover cloud-like about her shoulders, whenever she left the cloister court. Often, she would sit with her back to the glittering city of Jerusalem, and her face toward the Holy of Holies, an open book of the Scriptures on her lap, pondering on the wonderful love of God for the people He had made. At her feet lay a basket of wool, and her distaff, for the moment, still. Her sweet face is full of peace, her eyes cast down, her lips trembling into the gentlest of smiles. The love of God cloaks her as a mantle, and His spirit broods over the soul He so dearly loves.

But the days of quiet must end at last, and the little maid, at the call of God, left the Temple.

One night, as she knelt in prayer, in her poor home at Nazareth, a silver light gleamed all about her, and Gabriel, “One of the seven who stand before the Lord,” bowed low in deep humility before her.  “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,” he cried, and when she did not understand, he explained God’s wonderful message. Out of all the world, and from all time, the King of heaven had chosen her to be the dear Mother of His Son, when He should come to earth. Mary bent her head, and answered low, “Behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it done unto me according to thy word.”

And then at Bethlehem, we see her in the tiny, bare cave, because there was no room for her at the inn on that first sweet Christmas night. In a little manger lined with straw lies the Baby King of all the world, and, kneeling beside Him, Mary, His Mother, looks at Him, in mingled joy and sadness. Dear Saint Joseph, in his rough brown robe and sandaled feet, stands by her side, his gentle face alight with wonder and love. Over the hills come the weather-beaten shepherds, followed by their flocks, and kneel in the starlight adoring their new-born King.

But though Mary is Jesus Mother, we long to be able to call her our Mother.

Thirty-three years have passed, and it is a cold, bitter day on the Mount of Calvary. Nailed to a cross, Jesus, the same dear Lord Who rested in the manger at Bethlehem, and went about, through the lanes and by-ways of the cities, doing good, is dying for the sins of man. Darkness like a black cloud spreads over the sky, the sun hides its noontide glow. The last hour is nearing, and all the world is buried in gloom. At the foot of the cross stands Mary, the Mother of Jesus, close to Him now as she was in the little stable cave.

Better than all the earth He loves her, and looking out over the sea of people surging at His feet like angry waves, His divine Heart is filled with yearning. He longs to save them, He knows their danger, and, turning to His Mother, He gives her to all who dwell in the world to be their Mother also.

O Mary, Mother of God, and our Mother, lead us by the hand through the valley of the shadow, and bring us safe at length to the Feet of Jesus our King.

Taken from Children of the Kingdom

By Mary Adelaide Garnette

Leave a reply