QUEEN OF THE HOLY ROSARY

Queen of the Holy Rosary!
Thee as our Queen we greet,
And lay our lowly, loving prayers
Like roses at thy feet.
Would that these blossoms of our souls
Were far more fair and sweet.
Queen of the Joyful Mysteries!
Glad news God's envoy bore.
The Baptist's mother thou didst tend;
Angels thy Babe adore,
Whom with two doves thou ransomest;
Lost, He is found once more.
Queen of the Dolorous Mysteries!
Christ 'mid the olives bled,
Scourged at the pillar, crowned with thorns,
Beneath His Cross He sped
Up the steep hill; and there once more
Thine arms embraced Him--dead!
Queen of the Glorious Mysteries!
Christ from the tomb has flown,
Has mounted to the highest heaven
And sent His Spirit down
And soon He raises thee on high
To wear thy heavenly crown.
Queen of the Holy Rosary!
We, too, have joys and woes.
May they, like thine, to triumph lead!
May labor earn repose,
And may life's sorrows and life's joys
In heavenly glory close.
Cyril Robert. Mary Immaculate: God's Mother and Mine. Poughkeepsie, New York: Marist Press, 1946.

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