O Mother blest, whom God bestow
On sinners and on Just,
What joy, what hope thou givest those
Who in thy mercy trust.
Thou art clement, thou art chaste;
Mary, thou art fair,
Of all mothers sweetest blest,
None with thee compare.

O heav'nly Mother mistress sweet!
It never yet was told
That suppliant sinner left thy feet,
Unpitied, unconsoled.
Thou art clement, thou art chaste;
Mary, thou art fair,
Of all mothers sweetest blest,
None with thee compare.

O Mother pitiful and mild,
Cease not to pray for me;
For I do love thee as a child,
And sigh for love of thee.
Thou art clement, thou art chaste;
Mary, thou art fair,
Of all mothers sweetest blest,
None with thee compare.

Most pow'rful Mother, all men know
Thy Son denies thee naught
Thou askest, wishest it, and lo
His pow'r thy will hath wrought.
Thou art clement, thou art chaste;
Mary, thou art fair,
Of all mothers sweetest blest,
None with thee compare.

O Mother blest, for me obtain,
Ungrateful though I be,
To love that God who first could deign
To show such love for me.
Thou art clement, thou art chaste;
Mary, thou art fair,
Of all mothers sweetest blest,
None with thee compare.