O Mother, will it always be
That ev’ry passing year
Shall make thee seem more beautiful,
Shall make thee grow more dear?

We know thou art not infinite,
And yet thou dost unfold
Fresh glories ev'ry feast that comes,
New grandeurs yet untold.

We knew thee to be free from stain
As is the sun's white beam;
We knew God's Mother must be great
Above what we could dream.

Yet now it seems we knew thee not;
Each feast-day we begin
To know thee in a truer way,
And truer love to win.

O Mother, thou art like the life
The blessèd lead above,
Unchangeable, yet growing still
In glory and in love.

How close to God, how full of God,
Dear Mother, must thou be,
For still the more we know of God,
The more we think of thee.

This is thy gift - O give it us -
To make God better known,
Ah! Mother, make him in our hearts
More grand and more alone.