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HYMN TO THE VIRGIN.
(Inscribed to Rev. Father O' Keefe.)
BY W. H. C. HOSMER.
I.
“Salve Regina!” immaculate Virgin!Here me implore, and thy pity bestow;
Wild waves of trouble around me are surging,
Light with thy smile the deep night of my woe.
Queen of the Saints! hear my earnest petition,
Mother of Jesus, conceived without sin,
Turn me aside from the road to perdition,
Let me the fold of thy love enter in.
“Ave, Sanctissima”!
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II.
Angel of Mercy! for grevious transgression.Thorn-planted paths I am treading alone;
One hope remains—that thy blest intercession
Pardon may win at the foot of the throne.
Warring with fiends, oh! compassionate Mother!
When will the sweat of my agony cease,
Groans of my wounded heart how can I smother,
If I hear not thy low whisper of peace?
“Ave, Sanctissima”!
III.
Mary! thy name when bright angels are talkingEver with holiest rapture is heard;
Air, though in darkness is Pestilence walking,
Purer becomes by the spell of that word.
Song, through the Halls of the Blest ever flowing,
Wafts thy sweet name on its billowy tide;
Faith, while a martyrdom dread undergoing,
Calling on thee has triumphantly died.
“Ave, Sanctissima”!
IV.
Wander in soul through Art's galleries olden—How the great masters delight to portray
Mother and child crowned with radiance golden
Shaming the tamer effulgence of day.
Theme of high bard are the Loves and the Graces
Flocking, like birds, round their Paphian Queen
Mary and babe, with far lovelier faces,
Eyes of my spirit in visions have seen
“Ave, Sanctissima”!
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V.
Bearing my cross the dread burden grows lighter“Ave, Maria”! peals out on the air;
Darkness is fleeing, the prospect grows brighter,
While hope bridges over the gulf of despair.
Mother of God! guard Earth's motherless daughters,
Teach them to bend willing knee at thy shrine;
Pilot them over the perilous waters,
Guide them, at last, to a haven divine.
“Ave, Sanctissima”!
VI.
All through Eve lost was be Mary recovered,Pearl of the Sisterhood! free from all guilt;
Bloom follows blight where her spirit hath hovered,
Wonders are wrought where her alters are built.
Fair is the lily, but Mary is fairer,
O'er my heart's realm may she reign without end;
Tender and true is the love that I bear her,
Knightly my zeal her pure sway to extend.
“Ave, Sanctissima”!
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