My Bride, look at her!

Beautiful in souls beyond counting
She, in bodies numberless
Has been formed with loving care
By the very hand of God

Elegant in countless minds
And handsome in as many hearts
She is lovely in every way
Loved indeed by Love Himself

My Bride, pity her!

See her wracked with sobs!
In myriad faces her countenance
Is wet with the dew of tears
And her visage downcast with weeping

In the untold number of the oppressed
She is everywhere brought to her knees
A thousand times bound in chains
And constantly despised and scorned

In every sorrowful soul
She groans, awaiting redemption
She sighs to heaven in misery
And mourns in desolation

In every place her spirit is crushed
She is thirsty and forlorn
She bleeds from numberless wounds
Anxious in countless broken hearts

And I, her husband?
What is her Beloved to do?

I will weep for her consolation
And I will suffer for her comfort
I will bend down to embrace her
And I will bind up all her wounds

I will be spent for her renewal
And I will carry her on my back
I will sigh for her salvation
And I will lift her up in prayer

I will always walk beside her
And I will right her when she falls
When she stumbles, I will catch her
In her every peril I shall be near

I will be scourged to ruin for her healing
And I will bleed to see her spared
I will stretch out my arms upon the Cross
And love her even there

Behold the Bride, how loved she is!
In joy, in calm, in strife
Ne’er unlovely in her lover’s eyes
More dear to him than life