| Ave Maria! |
| blessed Maid!
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| Lily of Eden’s fragrant shade!
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| Who can express the love
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| that nurtured thee, so pure and sweet,
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| making thy heart a shelter meet
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| for Jesus’holy Dove!
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| Ave Maria! |
| Mother blest,
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| to whom, caressing and caressed,
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| clings the eternal Child;
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| favored beyond Archangels’dream,
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| when first on thee with tendered gleam
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| thy new-born Savior smiled.
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| Thou wept’st meek Maiden, Mother mild.,
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| thou wept’st upon thy sinless Child,
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| thy very heart was riven:
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| and yet, what mourning matron here
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| would deem thy sorrows bought too dear
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| by all on this side heaven!
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| A Son that never did amiss,
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| that never shamed his Mother’s kiss,
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| nor crossed her fondest prayer:
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| e’en from the Tree he deigned to bow
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| for her his agonized brow,
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| her, his sole earthly care.
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| Ave Maria! |
| thou whose name
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| all but adoring love may claim,
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| yet may we reach thy shrine;
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| for he, thy Son and Savior, vows
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| to crown all lowly lofty brows
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| with love and joy like thine. |