Mary from thy sacred image,
With those eyes so sadly sweet
Mother of Perpetual Succour
See us kneeling at thy feet
In thine arms thy Child thou bearest;
Source of all thy joy and woe;
What thy bliss, how deep thy sorrows,
Mother thou alone canst know.
On thy face He is not gazing,
Nor on us is turned His glance
For His anxious look He fixes
On the Cross and Reed and Lance
To thy hands His hands are clinging
As a child would cling in fear,
Of that vision of the torments
Of His Passion drawing near.
And for Him thine eyes are pleading
While to us they look and cry:
“Sinners spare my Child your Saviour,
seek not still to crucify."
Yes, we hear thy words sweet Mother,
But poor sinners we are weak;
At thy feet thy helpless children
Thy Perpetual Succour seek.
Succour us in clouds of sadness;
Hide the light of heaven above;
Hope expires and faith scares lingers;
And we dare not think we love.
In that hour of gloom and peril,
Show to us thy radiant face,
Smiling down from thy loved Image,
Rays of cheering light and grace.
Succour us when stormy passion,
Sudden rise within the heart.
Quell the tempest, calm the billows,
Peace secure to us impart.
Through this life of weary exile
Succour us in every need;
And when death shall come to free us,
Succour us ah! then indeed.