Mother of Christ, this path you've trod
You were Mary alone like me;
You suffered with Him 'neath the strokes of the rod,
Suffered alone, like me;
They crucified you on Calvary's Hill;
They buried you, too, in the tomb cold and still;
And oh, when He rose, what joy in your heart,
What faith in the Master's will!

I, too, gave my son to die for his land;
Bittersweet joy, oh, my own!
I followed beside him, holding his hand,
Into the battle alone.
When the shot pierced his side, it crucified me;
When his dear eyes closed, my own failed to see;
But my soul was bound while his arose free,
Mother of Christ, alone.

By the side of his grave in the black of the night,
You came to me, Mother of Christ.
Soft were your words, your calm face alight
With glory, Mother of Christ.
And under the glare that the giant guns cast
You plucked the red poppies that waved as we passed,
And I looked in your eyes and saw,
At last, Mother of Christ alone.