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(Melody only)
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| 1 |
Daily, daily, sing to Mary, Sing my soul, her praises due: All her feasts, her actions honor, With the heart's devotion true. |
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Now in wond'ring contemplation, Be her majesty confessed; Call her Mother call her Virgin, Happy Mother, Virgin blest. |
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She is mighty to deliver; Call her, trust her lovingly; When the tempest rages 'round thee, She will calm the troubled sea. |
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Gifts of heaven she has given, Noble Lady, to our race; She the Queen who decks her subjects With the lights of God's own grace. |
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Sing, my tongue, the Virgin's trophies, Who for us her Maker bore; For the curse of old inflicted, Peace and blessing to restore. |
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Sing in songs of praise unending, Sing the world's majestic Queen; Weary not, nor fail in telling All the gifts she gives to men. |