Virgin of Bethlehem! spouse of the Holy One!
Star of the pilgrim on lifes stormy sea!
Humbler thy lot was than this worlds most lowly one,
List to the prayers that we offer to thee!
Not for the joys that this false earth bestoweth,
Empty and fleeting as April sunshine,
But for the grace that from holiness floweth,
Grace, purest Mother, that always was thine.
Charity ardent, and zeal that abounded,
Thine was the will of thy Father above,
Thus thy lifes fervor so strangely confounded
Cold hearts that mocked at religions pure love.
Meekness in suffering, patience excelling,
Bowed thee, unmurmring, beneath sorrows rod;
Spirit of purity ever indwelling
Made thee the Temple and Mother of God.
These are the gifts that thy children implore,
With hearts warmly beating, and low bended knee;
Oh! ask of thy Son, whom we humbly adore,
To grant us the prayers that we whisper to thee.
