Salutation

To you and you and you who have given Two sons for England's sake,--what word? Oh, there is weeping heard in Heaven And Mary's heart has the Eighth Sword. Henceforth as you go through the town The folk who see you go and come Will doff their hats to your renown, With: Salvete flores Martyrum! O chosen from all women and men For that high lonely destiny! Now that we look at you, 'tis plain God set a mark to know you by. Your cross was growing in the tree Before the golden world was made; Your martyr's palms began to be Before 'Let there be Light' was said. And still where'er you come and go The world's the lighter for your load. Who thinks on common things and low When your high sorrow takes the road? O predestined and pre-elect 'Tis you must bear the glorious scars. Stand up, dear Saints, white and erect, The wounded in the heavenly wars. Beloved, afflicted, marked for grace. God's folk who watch you go and come, Call, leaning from their Paradise place, Salvete flores Martyrum!