Thou Virgin Mother, daughter of thy Son,
The limit fixed of the eternal counsel's grace,
In thee the war of ancient night is won,
And peace is mirrored in thy humble face.
Thou art the noonday torch of charity,
The living fountain where our hope is found;
In thee unites whate’er of goodness be,
In thee the broken world is newly bound.
The "Yes" that echoed through the halls of time,
Did cut the cord that held us to our fall;
An Orient Star in majesty sublime,
Whose rising light brings mercy to us all.
No blow that hit the Son the Mother missed,
For lives were hung by one deep, fatal twist;
Yet now she reigns where sorrows are no more,
The Queen of Peace on Heaven’s golden shore.
From Saint Anne’s womb to Nazareth’s quiet hill,
She grew in wisdom at the Spirit’s breath;
A "Seat of Wisdom" standing calm and still,
To triumph over darkness and of death.
He who wishes grace, nor runs to thee,
His aspirations without wings would fly;
O Queen of Peace, our guide and sanctuary,
Direct our gaze to God’s eternal sky.
The limit fixed of the eternal counsel's grace,
In thee the war of ancient night is won,
And peace is mirrored in thy humble face.
Thou art the noonday torch of charity,
The living fountain where our hope is found;
In thee unites whate’er of goodness be,
In thee the broken world is newly bound.
The "Yes" that echoed through the halls of time,
Did cut the cord that held us to our fall;
An Orient Star in majesty sublime,
Whose rising light brings mercy to us all.
No blow that hit the Son the Mother missed,
For lives were hung by one deep, fatal twist;
Yet now she reigns where sorrows are no more,
The Queen of Peace on Heaven’s golden shore.
From Saint Anne’s womb to Nazareth’s quiet hill,
She grew in wisdom at the Spirit’s breath;
A "Seat of Wisdom" standing calm and still,
To triumph over darkness and of death.
He who wishes grace, nor runs to thee,
His aspirations without wings would fly;
O Queen of Peace, our guide and sanctuary,
Direct our gaze to God’s eternal sky.