AVE MARIA
By John Jerome Rooney
Lady, thy soldier I would be,This day I choose thy shield,And go, thrice-armored for the fight,Forth to the world’s wide field.
Lady, thy soldier I would be,This day I choose thy shield,And go, thrice-armored for the fight,Forth to the world’s wide field.
Lady, thy soldier I would be,This day I choose thy shield,And go, thrice-armored for the fight,Forth to the world’s wide field.
Lady, thy soldier I would be,
This day I choose thy shield,
And go, thrice-armored for the fight,
Forth to the world’s wide field.
There I shall meet the dark allies,The Flesh, the Fiend, the World,And fiercely shall their darts of fireUpon my heart be hurled.But I will raise my buckler strongBetwixt me and the foe,And, with the spirit’s flaming sword,Shall give them blow for blow.Lady, thy sailor I would be,This day I sign my nameTo sail the high seas of the earthFor glory of thy fame.The tempest may besiege my bark,The pirate lie in wait:The perils of the monstrous deepMay tempt o’erwhelming fate:Yet, wheresoe’er my ship may steerUpon the waters wide,Thy name shall be my compass sure,Thy star my midnight guide.Thy poet, Lady, I would beTo sing thy peerless praise;Thy loyal bard, I’d bring to theeHeart-music from all lays.Soft melody, outpoured in JuneBy God’s dear feathered throng,Would mingle with the organ’s rollTo glorify my song;
There I shall meet the dark allies,The Flesh, the Fiend, the World,And fiercely shall their darts of fireUpon my heart be hurled.But I will raise my buckler strongBetwixt me and the foe,And, with the spirit’s flaming sword,Shall give them blow for blow.Lady, thy sailor I would be,This day I sign my nameTo sail the high seas of the earthFor glory of thy fame.The tempest may besiege my bark,The pirate lie in wait:The perils of the monstrous deepMay tempt o’erwhelming fate:Yet, wheresoe’er my ship may steerUpon the waters wide,Thy name shall be my compass sure,Thy star my midnight guide.Thy poet, Lady, I would beTo sing thy peerless praise;Thy loyal bard, I’d bring to theeHeart-music from all lays.Soft melody, outpoured in JuneBy God’s dear feathered throng,Would mingle with the organ’s rollTo glorify my song;
There I shall meet the dark allies,The Flesh, the Fiend, the World,And fiercely shall their darts of fireUpon my heart be hurled.
There I shall meet the dark allies,
The Flesh, the Fiend, the World,
And fiercely shall their darts of fire
Upon my heart be hurled.
But I will raise my buckler strongBetwixt me and the foe,And, with the spirit’s flaming sword,Shall give them blow for blow.
But I will raise my buckler strong
Betwixt me and the foe,
And, with the spirit’s flaming sword,
Shall give them blow for blow.
Lady, thy sailor I would be,This day I sign my nameTo sail the high seas of the earthFor glory of thy fame.
Lady, thy sailor I would be,
This day I sign my name
To sail the high seas of the earth
For glory of thy fame.
The tempest may besiege my bark,The pirate lie in wait:The perils of the monstrous deepMay tempt o’erwhelming fate:
The tempest may besiege my bark,
The pirate lie in wait:
The perils of the monstrous deep
May tempt o’erwhelming fate:
Yet, wheresoe’er my ship may steerUpon the waters wide,Thy name shall be my compass sure,Thy star my midnight guide.
Yet, wheresoe’er my ship may steer
Upon the waters wide,
Thy name shall be my compass sure,
Thy star my midnight guide.
Thy poet, Lady, I would beTo sing thy peerless praise;Thy loyal bard, I’d bring to theeHeart-music from all lays.
Thy poet, Lady, I would be
To sing thy peerless praise;
Thy loyal bard, I’d bring to thee
Heart-music from all lays.
Soft melody, outpoured in JuneBy God’s dear feathered throng,Would mingle with the organ’s rollTo glorify my song;
Soft melody, outpoured in June
By God’s dear feathered throng,
Would mingle with the organ’s roll
To glorify my song;
And Dante’s voice and Petrarch’s strainAnd Milton’s matchless lineWould lend to my poor minstrel noteA harmony divine.Lady, I choose to be thy son;For Mother thee I choose;O, for thy sweet and holy Child,Do not my claim refuse!Alone and motherless am I:Tho’ strong, I long for rest—The thunder of the world’s applauseIs not a mother’s breast.Ave Maria! Shield us all.Thy sons we choose to be.Mother of grace, we raise our hearts,Our hearts, our love to thee!
And Dante’s voice and Petrarch’s strainAnd Milton’s matchless lineWould lend to my poor minstrel noteA harmony divine.Lady, I choose to be thy son;For Mother thee I choose;O, for thy sweet and holy Child,Do not my claim refuse!Alone and motherless am I:Tho’ strong, I long for rest—The thunder of the world’s applauseIs not a mother’s breast.Ave Maria! Shield us all.Thy sons we choose to be.Mother of grace, we raise our hearts,Our hearts, our love to thee!
And Dante’s voice and Petrarch’s strainAnd Milton’s matchless lineWould lend to my poor minstrel noteA harmony divine.
And Dante’s voice and Petrarch’s strain
And Milton’s matchless line
Would lend to my poor minstrel note
A harmony divine.
Lady, I choose to be thy son;For Mother thee I choose;O, for thy sweet and holy Child,Do not my claim refuse!
Lady, I choose to be thy son;
For Mother thee I choose;
O, for thy sweet and holy Child,
Do not my claim refuse!
Alone and motherless am I:Tho’ strong, I long for rest—The thunder of the world’s applauseIs not a mother’s breast.
Alone and motherless am I:
Tho’ strong, I long for rest—
The thunder of the world’s applause
Is not a mother’s breast.
Ave Maria! Shield us all.Thy sons we choose to be.Mother of grace, we raise our hearts,Our hearts, our love to thee!
Ave Maria! Shield us all.
Thy sons we choose to be.
Mother of grace, we raise our hearts,
Our hearts, our love to thee!