The Kneeling Nun, Santa Rita NM
Legend of the Kneeling Nun
(Walter Foote Sellers)
This the tale as they tell it: how in Days of old,
Came the explorer and the Soldier, seeking the glitter of gold;
Robbing and burning and killing, all in the name of the King;
Eyes a-gleam for the honors, men to the conqueror bring.
After them came the Fathers, close on the steps they trod,
Holding a lot the sign of the faith, chanting the glory of God,
Gentle were they, and tender, healing the wounds of pain,
Left by the sword and firebrand of the pitiless hand of Spain.
This the tale as they tell it; how by the Aztec trail
They builded an Indian Mission, The Knights of the Holy Grail,
Here in the desert they labored, teaching the truth and the Light.
Showing the ways of another race to the savage sons of Knight.
Fairest of all the workers was the Sister Teresa, the Nun,
Teaching the Indian children, quickly their hearts she won,
Soon through the desert country, where’er spread the Mission’s fame,
Even the gurgling infants were trying to lisp her name.
This is the Tale as they Tell it; how Diago the Soldier came,
Staggering into the courtyard, weary and sore and lame,
Leagues had he crawled through the desert, seeking a kindly hand:
The last of all his comrades, dead in the new-found land,
Then through the long days of sickness, quietly there by his bed,
Watched the Sister Teresa, cooling his fevered head,
And while he raved of his tortures, there through the length of the night,
Faithful, kindly and patient, she watched for the coming of light.
This the tale as they tell it; how Diago’s eyes grew clear,
And gleamed anew with a shining light, when the Sister nurse was near,
Hours would they talk together; he with his stories of strife,
Strange to her quiet seclusion these tales of Struggles of Life.
So did their hearts grow stronger, till ever she bore in her mind,
The name of Diago the Soldier, and love to her vows were blind;
Till at last in his arms they found her, eyes like stars above,
Shining into the depths of her lover’s, breathing the Life of Love.
This is the tale as they tell it; how on that fatal day,
Stripped of her garb of her Order, they turned the Sister away;
Forth to the desert she wandered and builded an altar of stone,
There she knelt in her suffering, at last, with her God alone.
Then came the storm and the darkness, madly the thunder crashed,
Loud rolled the earth in its anger, cruel the lightning crashed,
And oft through the night to the Mission was born her piteous cry;
“Oh Madre de Dios; Thy mercy on such as I!”
This the tale as they tell it; how with the coming of light
There where had been an altar, a mountain had grown in the night,
While before it was kneeling, so saw the Mission flock,
The Sister Teresa of yesterday turned to eternal rock.
So in the desert country, through all the length of days,
Kneeling before her altar, for the erring souls she prays,
And oft when the storm is raging, they hear her piteous cry;
“Oh Madre de Dios! Thy mercy on such as I!”
Kanabite, it does sound logical no ?? It explains many thing not explainable today.where do you find fault ? Am a bit curious. 
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