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Shall we not love thee, Mother dear,
whom Jesus loves so well?
And to his glory year by year
thy joy and honor tell?
Bound with the curse of sin and shame
we helpless sinners lay,
until in tender love he came
to bear the curse away.
And thee he chose from whom to take
true flesh his flesh to be;
in it to suffer for our sake,
by it to make us free.
Thy Babe he lay upon thy breast,
to thee he cried for food;
thy gentle nursing soothed to rest
the incarnate Son of God.
O wondrous depth of grace divine
that he should bend so low!
And, Mary, O what joy 'twas thine
in his dear love to know!
Joy to be Mother of the Lord,
and thine the truer bliss,
in every thought and deed and word
to be for ever his.
And as he loves thee, Mother dear,
we too will love thee well;
and to his g lory year by year
thy joy and honor tell.
Jesus, the Virgin's holy Son,
we praise thee and adore,
who art with God the Father One
and Spirit evermore.