O aptly named, Illustrious One!
Thou art that flower fair
That filled this vast and changeful world
With mystic perfume rare
Shedding on all the balmy breath
Of countless virtues high,
Rising like fragrant odours rich,
To Gods far, beauteous sky.
Mystical Rose! O aptly named!
For, as mid brightest flowers
The lovely Rose unquestioned reigns
The Queen of Natures bowers,
So mid the daughters fair of Eve
Art thou the peerless One!
The chosen handmaid of the Lord!
The Mother of His Son!
Yes, He endowed thee with all gifts
Which could thy beauty grace;
And neer did sin, een for one hour,
Thy spotless soul deface,
For from the first thou hadst the power
Gods favring love to win;
It was His will that thou shouldst be
Conceived devoid of sin.
Oh, Mother dear, obtain for us
That we from evil flee;
Throughout this, fleeting lifes career
Mayst thou our model be!
Seek we to imitate the gifts
That thy pure soul adorn
Sweet flower of beauty and of grace!
Fair Rose without a thorn!
