Our Lady's Holy Death.

Mary Dies of Pure Love of God. 

"My soul hath thirsted after the strong living God: when shall I come and appear before the face of God?" (Ps. xli. 3)

Mary, thy heart for love 
Alone had ever sighed; 
So much it loved at length, 
Of very love it died. 

O happy, happy death: 
If death indeed could be, 
Blest Virgin, that sweet end 
Which God bestowed on thee. 

'Tis in a sweet repose, 
With smile of heavenly mirth, 
Thou takest joyful flight
To Paradise from earth; 

And see, above the choirs
Of saints and angels bright, 
God's Mother near her Son
Enthroned in dazzling light. 

Come, then, to feteh thy child, 
O Mary, mother dear, 
And tarry by my side 
When my last hour is near. 

Yes, this I hope from thee
Despise not my request
To yield my soul in peace 
Upon my mother's breast.

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