Hymn of St. Casimir to Mary

TO THE HONOUR OF MARY, THE VIRGIN MOTHER OF GOD,

The original of which was composed by St. Casimir, son of Casimir Jagellonius, King of Poland, who used to recite it every day. It was found placed under the head of that Saint, at the time of the restoration of his tomb in the year 1604, and is much to be admired for its elegance and devotion.

DECADE I.

Each day, my soul,
Tell Mary's praise,
Her ev'ry deed,
Her Festal Days.

With wond'ring look,
Come contemplate
Her Mother's joy,
Blest Virgin state!

Oh, call on Her,
Soon thus to be
From weight of sin
And tempest free!

Us She endows
With heav'nly gifts:
With grace to shine,
Our heart uplifts.

Thy meed, my tongue,
Accomplish well;
Of Curse removed
Her trophies tell.

Earth's Queen is She,—
Thy whole life long,
Proclaim Her praise
In ceaseless song!

With it resound
My senses all;
So blest a Maid
Oft-times recall!

Not one there is
Of eloquence
Meet to declare
Her excellence:

Praise, all, your Joy,
God's Mother-maid;
By none 't will be
With truth portray'd!

Still, in Her praise,
My thought imparts
Some benefit
To holy hearts.

Hail Mary.

DECADE II.

Though none I know
To praise her meet,
'T would madness be
Her not to greet.

With things of Heav'n
Her learning fraught,
False dreams of men
Hath put to nought.

Her life the Church
Bedecks, like flowers;
Her words and deeds
Are grace's dow'rs.

Eve's sin to us
Closed Paradise;
To Mary's faith
It open flies.

Lost man, by Eve,
Hath exile found:
By Mary he
Is homeward bound.

The praise of all
Her merit gains,
And specially
Their love obtains.

Her Son, obey'd
Through Her, may I
Behold with joy
When'er I die!

O'er woman blest,—
Their glory, Thou!
How high o'er all
We thee avow!

Hear graciously,
And save from Hell,
Make meat for grace
Who praise Thee well!

Hope of th' opprest!
Fair Jesse's Rod!
Light of the Deep!
The Shrine of God!

Hail Mary.

DECADE III.

Fulness of grace,
Life's Standard true,
God's Temple, and
Truth's Pattern new!

Thou to lorn souls
Dost Heav'n assure,
Nor bent nor bought
By Serpent's lure.

The King's fair choice,—
Hail, queenly Maid!—
Who made all worlds,
By all obey'd.

Chaste Lily-flow'r!
Pure budding Rose!
Chaste choirs thou guid'st
To Heaven's repose!

Give me the pow'r
Of hand and speech,
Thy merits high
With might to preach!

But oh, to me
First mem'ry grant
Oft, as is meet,
Thy praise to chant!

Though soil'd and dumb
My lips I know,
Still I must dare
Thy meed to shew.

Virgin, rejoice,
Thus praised to be;
Cause to the lost
Of liberty!

O Mother-Maid!
O Mother pure!
Like fruitful palm,
Aye to endure!

By Thee, sweet Flow'r,
Refresh'd to be,
We trust, whose Fruit
Hath set us free!

Hail Mary.

DECADE IV.

All-beauteous One,
Who know'st no stain,
Oh, make us pure,
To praise Thee fain!

By Thee, O Blest!
Through faith, are giv'n,
And oped to men
The realms of Heav'n.

Lo, the glad world
New light displays;
The darkness doff'd
Of ancient days.

Poor are the great,
And rich the poor;—
As thou foretold'st,—
They want no more!

Through thee the bad
Forsake their way;
And doctrines strange
Are driv'n away.

Thou teachest us
The world t' eschew,
To fight with sin,
The flesh subdue.

With holy zeal
Aloft to rise,
The body tame,
For Heav'nly prize.

The Lord was borne
Thy womb within,
Us to remould,
Debased by sin.

Mother intact!
He made all things,
Who is thy Son,—
The King of kings!

Blest Conqu'ress, thus
With Death to cope,
And Life restore
To sinking Hope!

Hail Mary.

DECADE V.

Blest be the King,
Thy conqu'ring Son,
Whose birth for Heav'n
Our race hath won!

Consoler Thou
Of our despair,
Redeem our loss,
Our ills repair!

Th' e'erlasting Rest
For me obtain,
Saved from the Lake
Of fiery pain.

I sigh for Thee
My wounds to cure;
To my request
All grace procure!

Chaste, pure, and meek
That I may be,
Just, upright, good,
From malice free,

Of learning fraught
With holy store,
Made eloquent
In Sacred lore,

Kind, grave, and firm,
In love mature,
Humble, patient,
Simple, and pure,

To ill not prone,
In heart e'er wise,
Oft doing good,
Abhorring lies.

Christ's faithful souls
Aid and protect,
'Mid earthly cares
To stand erect.

Nor light nor star,
Star of the Sea!
May seek to vie
In praise with Thee.

Hail Mary.

DECADE VI.

Thy sons uphold
By thy sweet prayer,
Their sorrows heal,
Their guilt repair.

Glad, them to free
From Satan's fraud,
Who in true flesh
Hast borne thy God!

With Son divine,
How chaste a flow'r,
Retaining still
Thy Virgin's dow'r!

A Mother, yet
Maid undefiled!
Thy Maker's nurse
And He thy Child!

Oh, keep me near
To Jesu's side!
Tho' wreck'd the world,
Still safe I'll ride.

Rein in my wrath,
Drive lust away;
When sin allures,
Be Thou my Stay!

No worldly aim
My soul deprave;
Grows blind and hard,
Ambition's slave!

Nor pride, nor wrath
My bosom swell;
Where triumph these,
Who hath not fell?

Pray God by grace,
My heart to keep;
Lest Satan sow
Tares while I sleep.

Aid and console,
Who love to praise
Thy deeds divine,
Thy Festal Days!

Hail Mary.