The Hermit Happens Upon Jacob of Serug

Today the hermit began reading a book found on a clearance shelf at the religous book store: On the Mother of God by Jacob of Serug, early 9th century priest and bishop, Syrian. He is known as "the flute of the Holy Spirit and harp of the faithful church" and had a great love of the Mother of God.

How refreshing to read the lyrical poetry of his homilies on the Blessed Virgin Mary! The intro is fascinating, and the first homily is prefaced by Mar Jacob's plea to Jesus to help him speak of His Mother. The following is Jacob's request of Jesus, and parts remind the hermit of how we may come into Jesus' Heart; He has opened His Heart for the good and the evil ones to come into Him....

O Beneficent One, whose door is open to evil ones and to sinners, grant me to enter and see your beauty while I marvel.
O treasure of blessings, from which even the unjust are satiated, may I be nourished by You because You are entirely life for him who partakes of You.
Cup which inebriates the soul with its draught, and it forgets its suffeirngs; may I drink from You, become wise in You, and recite your story.
O You, who ungrudgingly magnify our unworthy race, my word extols beautiful things with your psalms.
Son of Greatness, who became a little child, grant my feeble self to speak concerning your greatness.
Son of the Most High, who wanted to be with earthly beings, may my word be raised on high to speak and You.
You, our Lord, are an eloquent word which is full of life and a great discourse which gives riches to the one who hears it.
Everyone who speaks about You is speaking because of You, since You are word and rational mind and conscience.
Neither the thoughts of the soul stir without You, nor do words move the lips except in You.
Lips give no sound without Your command, nor is their hearing in the ear without your favour.
Behold, Your riches are lavished on those far and near;
Your door is opened for the good and the evil ones to come into You.
Everyone is rich in You, and You are enriching everyone without measure;
may my discourse be enriched by You with beauty and may it speak to You.
Son of the Virgin, grant me to speak about your mother,
while I acknowledge that the word concerning her is too exalted for us.

Now, is that not beautiful beyond snow falling in the night nest of the feast day of the Mother of God here at Agnus Dei, or in the morning dawn of whereever you may find your soul?