All honor and all glory be

To Thee, the Eternal King of kings!

For Thou hast given the victory

To me, a frail and feeble thing.

And thou, dear Mother, pure as snow,

Most lovely star, sublimely bright!

Oh, thou hast been my light below,

Protecting me in danger’s night.

Thou, Queen, whose glories ne’er shall fail,

When shall mine eyes thy splendors see?

When shall I rest beneath thy veil,

Never again to part from thee?

Hail, Mary! Holy Mother, hail!

My exiled spirit fain would fly

To heavenly joys that have no end;

Naught here its needs can satisfy, —

It craves for God, its perfect Friend.

But, ere that sweet reward begin,

I long to combat for Him here,

For Him unnumbered souls to win,

And find Him dearer and more dear.

My exile here will pass away,

As the day passes and is gone;

Then, up the radiant, sunlit way,

My happy soul shall hasten on,

To see my God in endless day.