Maiden yet a mother,
Daughter of thy Son;
High beyond all other,
Lowlier is none;
Thou the consummation,
Planned by God's decree,
When our lost creation,
Nobler rose in thee.

Thus his place preparèd,
He who all things made,
Mid his creatures tarried,
In thy bosom laid;
There his love he nourished,
Warmth that gave increase,
To the Root whence flourished,
Our eternal peace.

Noon on Sion's mountain
Is thy charity;
Hope its living fountain
Finds, on earth, in thee;
Lady, such thy power,
He who grace would buy
Not as of thy dower,
Without wings would fly.

Nor alone thou hearest
When thy name we hail,
Often thou art nearest
When our voices fail;
Mirrored in thy fashion,
All creation's good,
Mercy, might, compassion
Grace thy womanhood.

Lady, lest our vision,
Striving heav'nward, fail,
Still let thy petition
With thy Son prevail,
Unto whom all merit
Pow'r and majesty,
With the Holy Spirit,
And the Father be.