2. Lo thine aged cousin claims thee, Claims thy sympathy and care; God her shame from her hath taken, He hath heard her fervent pray'r. Blessed Mothers! Joyful meeting! Thou in her, the hand of God, She in thee, with lips inspired, Owns the Mother of her Lord.
3. As the sun, his face concealing, In a cloud withdraws from sight, So in Mary then lay hidden He Who is the world's true light. Honor, glory, virtue, merit, Be to Thee, O Virgin's Son! With the Father, and the Spirit, While eternal ages run.
1. Hail Virgin, dearest Mary! Our lovely Queen of May! A spotless, blessed Lady, Our lovely Queen of May. Thy children, humbly bending, Surround thy shrine so dear; With heart and voice ascending, Sweet Mary, hear our pray'r.
2. Behold earth's blossoms springing In beauteous form and hue. All nature gladly bring Her sweetest charms to you. We'll gather fresh, bright flowers, To bind our fair queen's brow; From gay and verdant bowers, We haste to crown thee now.
3. Hail Virgin, dearest Mary! Our lovely Queen of May, O spotless blessed Lady, Our lovely Queen of May. And now, our blessed Mother, Smile on our festal day; Accept our wreath of flowers, And be our Queen of May.
By permission Copyright 1920 by S. M. Yenn
Month of Mary Crowning Hymn Tr. Rev. E. Caswall from a Slovak Hymnal Arr. by N.A.M
1. This is the image of the Queen Who reigns in bliss above; Of her who is the hope of men, Whom men and angels Love! Most holy Mary! at thy feet I bend a suppliant knee; In this thy own sweet month of May, Dear Mother of my God, I pray, Do thou remember me.
2. This homage offered at the feet Of Mary's image here To Mary's self at once ascends Above the starry sphere. Most holy Mary! at thy feet I bend a suppliant knee; In all my joy, in all my pain, O Virgin born without a stain, Do thou remember me.
3. How fair soever be the form Which here your eyes behold, Its beauty is by Mary's self Excell'd a thousand-fold. Most holy Mary! At thy feet I bend a suppliant knee; In my temptations each and all From Eve derived in Adam's fall, Do thou remember me.
4. Sweet are the flowerets we have called This image to adorn; But sweeter far is Mary's self, That rose without a thorn! Most holy Mary! At thy feet I bend a suppliant knee; When on the bed of death I lie, By Him who did for sinners die, Do thou remember me.