Hymn To The Virgin
by Frances Sargent Locke Osgood
Mother of the spirit-child!
Of the guileless and the meek
Mournful are thine eyes, but mild
With a beauty from above;
Pale, but eloquent with love,
Thy youthful brow and cheek!
Thou, oh! thou hast known a parent's wasting grief!
A suppliant parent kneels, imploring thy relief!
By the pure and solemn joy
Filling all thy maiden breast,
When the precious heaven-born boy,
Glowing with celestial charms,
Lay within those virgin arms
A bright and wondrous guest!
Hear, in mercy, hear the faltering voice of grief!
A suppliant mother kneels, imploring thy relief!
By thine anguish in that hour,
Hour of wo and dread, when Death
Dared to stay the awful power,
High, majestic, yet benign;
Dared to seal the truths divine
Which dwelt upon his breath!
By thy hope, thy trust, thy rapture, and thy grief,
Oh! sainted Marie! send this breaking heart relief!