The Litttle Office Of Mary
Your help, propitious Mother, lend us
the dreadful foe defend us.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son
and to the Holy Spirit, now and for ever and ever.
Hail, Virginal Mother, hail, temple divine;
The glory of angels and purity's shrine;
Hail, comfort of
mourners, bright garden of joy;
Whose beauties the songs of all
The type of your patience is victory's palm;
chastity's figure the fragrance of balm.
Oh, blessed the clay Out
of which you were wrought,
So utterly free From original blot,
Oh, city exalted. Bright orient gate,
What graces unite In
your singular state!
Like a lily in the midst of thorns.
Adam's daughters is my beloved.