O holy LORD, who with the Children Three

Didst walk the piercing flame,

Help, in those trial-hours, which, save to Thee,

I dare not name;

Nor let these quivering eyes and sickening heart

Crumble to dust beneath the Tempter's dart.

Thou, who didst once Thy life from Mary's breast

Renew from day to day,

O might her smile, severely sweet, but rest

On this frail clay!

Till I am Thine with my whole soul; and fear,

Not feel a secret joy, that Hell is near.