Anonymous, tr. Edward Caswall

“ Lady, than all the heavens more high,
More than seraph in purity,
⁠A glance of pity incline!
Teach us to feel, teach us to know,
Teach us in life and death to shew
⁠What treasures of grace are thine. ”

“ From thy stem in beauty budded
⁠Ancient Jesse's mystic rod;
Earth from thee received the mother
⁠Of the eternal Son of God.
All the human race benighted
⁠In the depths of darkness lay,
When in Anne it saw the dawning
⁠Of the long-expected day. ”

“ Pleasant coolness in the heat,
⁠Solace in the midst of woe
Light immortal, Light divine,
Visit Thou these hearts of thine,
⁠And our inmost being fill;
If Thou take Thy grace away.
Nothing pure in man will stay—
⁠All his good is turn'd to ill. ”

“ Oh, then upon Adam's race
⁠Look thou with a pitying eye,
And entreat of Jesu's grace,
⁠Till he lay his anger by.
Honour, virtue, glory, merit,
⁠Be to Thee, O Virgin's Son,
With the Father and the Spirit,
⁠While eternal ages run. ”

“ Touch our hearts with that true sorrow
⁠Which afflicted thee of yore
To the Father everlasting,
⁠And the Son, who reigns on high,
With the coëternal Spirit,
⁠Trinity in Unity,
Be salvation, honour, blessing,
⁠Now and through eternity. ”

“ Hymn of St. Francis Xavier.
My God, I love Thee, not because
⁠I hope for Heaven thereby;
Nor because they who love Thee not,
⁠Must burn eternally.
Thou, O my Jesus, Thou didst me
⁠Upon the Cross embrace ”

“ Jesu, Redeemer of mankind,
⁠An ear to Thy poor suppliants give.
When man, o'erwhelm'd in sin and death,
⁠Was wholly lost in Satan's snare,
Love brought Thee down to cure our ills,
⁠By taking of those ills a share. ”

“ Virgin of all virgins,
⁠To thy shelter take us;
Gentlest of the gentle,
⁠Chaste and gentle make us.
Still as on we journey,
⁠Help our weak endeavour;
Till with thee and Jesus
⁠We rejoice for ever. ”

“ To God the Word on high
The hosts of augels cry,
⁠May, &c.
Let children too upraise
Their voice in hymns of praise:
⁠May, &c.
Let earth's wide circle round
In joyful notes resound:
⁠May, &c. ”

“ That cry it steeps His mother's soul
⁠As in a swoon of death.
⁠The sun withdraws his beam,
⁠The mid-day heav'ns grow pale,
The moon, the stars, the universe,
⁠Their Maker's death bewail.
⁠Shall man alone be mute,
⁠Amidst adoring spheres? ”