P
Pitcharan
Guest
Remember Holy Mary, twas never heard or known,
That anyone who sought thee and made to thee his moan,
That any one who hastened for shelter to thy care,
Was ever yet abandoned and left to his despair.
And so to thee my Mother with filial faith I call,
For Jesus dying gave thee as Mother to us all.
To thee O Queen of Virgins, O Mother meek, to thee
I run with trustful fondness, like child to mother’s knee.
See at thy feet a sinner, groaning and weeping sore.
Ah, throw thy mantle over me and let me stray no more.
Thy Son has died to save me, and from His throne on high
His heart this moment yearns for one even such as I.
All His love remember, and oh, remember too,
How prompt I am to purpose, how slow and frail to do,
Yet scorn not my petitions but patiently give ear,
And help me, O My Mother, most loving and most dear.

That anyone who sought thee and made to thee his moan,
That any one who hastened for shelter to thy care,
Was ever yet abandoned and left to his despair.
And so to thee my Mother with filial faith I call,
For Jesus dying gave thee as Mother to us all.
To thee O Queen of Virgins, O Mother meek, to thee
I run with trustful fondness, like child to mother’s knee.
See at thy feet a sinner, groaning and weeping sore.
Ah, throw thy mantle over me and let me stray no more.
Thy Son has died to save me, and from His throne on high
His heart this moment yearns for one even such as I.
All His love remember, and oh, remember too,
How prompt I am to purpose, how slow and frail to do,
Yet scorn not my petitions but patiently give ear,
And help me, O My Mother, most loving and most dear.
