Classic Poem

Above the moon, her face reflecting heaven;
Beneath her feet, the world and all its strife—
Thus is she pictured, who to man hath given
The Source, the Author, and the Crown of life.

Mary Immaculate, oh, sweetest name,
Second to none but his, thy God, thy Son;
Enkindle in our hearts love's brightest flame,
Virgin of Virgins, O belovèd One.

Thou beauteous Promise of creation's dawn;
Destined Restorer of our fallen state;
Bright Star that ushered in redemption's morn—
Shine on our darkness, O Immaculate.

Purer than crystal streams, or mountain snows,
Whiter than lilies on the lake's blue crest,
Distilling fragrance sweeter than the rose,
Virgin Immaculate, we hail thee blest.