Queen terra, pontus, aethera.

Whom earth and sea and sky proclaim
The Ruler of their triple frame,
He, unto whom their praises rise,
Within the womb of Mary lies.
Her womb, the seat of every grace,
Is now the Lord's abiding place;
That Lord to whom the sun by day,
The moon by night, their homage pay.
O happy Mother that thou art,
Close underneath thy beating heart
Lies the Creator-God, who planned
The world he holds within his hand.
Blest by the herald-angel's tongue,
O'er thee God's shadowing Spirit hung
And filled thy womb — whence issued forth
The Long-desired of all the earth.
O Mary, Mother of all Grace
And Mercy to our sinful race,
Drive back the foe; and to thy Son
Lead thou our souls when life is done.
All glory be to thee, O Lord,
A Virgin's Son, by all adored;
And equal praise for ever greet
The Father and the Paraclete.