I read one day, in some old Breton lay,
That underneath the opened side of Christ
A rock, to catch the Savior’s blood, they say,
Depressed into a cup, as soldiers diced;
And how good Joseph of the Holy Shroud
Had marked the miracle, and took the Grail
Of Christ’s Last Supper, and, when all the crowd
Had left, deposed the Corpse from Cross and nail;
And how the Chalice of the Sacrament
He used to catch the Blood that had not ceased
To flow from all five wounds: The Testament,
Forever new, of heaven’s sacred feast.
Yet God preferred His perfect Vessel most:
O sweet Betrothèd of the Holy Ghost!
From Sonnets for Heaven’s Queen © Joseph Charles MacKenzie. All rights reserved.