Sweet Mother, turn these gentle eyes
Of pity down on me,
Oh, hear thy suppliant's tearful cries;
My humble pray'rs do not despise,
Star of the pathless sea.

In dark temptation's dreary hour
To thee, bright Queen, we fly;
Oh! Then exert thy Mother s pow’r
When storms are rough, and tempests lour,
Star of the raging sea.

Through all my joys and cares, Sweet Maid,
May I still look on thee,
Who bore the price our ransom paid,
And ne'er the suppliant's cry hath stayed,
Star of the azure sea.

And when my last expiring sigh
My soul from earth shall free;
Do thou, bright Queen of saints, stand nigh,
And bear it up to God on high
Star of the boundless Sea.