Classic Poem

Hail Queen of Saints; Hail mercies Mother
Our life, our hope, our comfort, Hail:
To thee, deploring one another,
We poor Eves banish't off-spring wail.
To thee we cry; and our sad moans
Sigh out into thy tender ears:
To thee our harts weep bitter groans
In this doleful vale of tears.
Hear, glorious Advocate, O hear,
And towards wretched us incline
The gracious aspect of those dear
Compassionating eys of thine.
Soft source of pity, mil'd, and sweet,
O Mary, ever Virgin-pure;
Behold us prostrate at thy feet
And by thy pow'rful pray'rs procure,
That an unweary'd close persuit,
Of life, may bring us so to dy,
We may on JESUS, thy blest Fruit,
Feast our glad eys eternally.