See, to God’s high temple above
Mounts, amid angel hymns of love,
The mystical ark of grace
See aloft on victory’s throne,
Blended in glory both Mother and Son,
in one eternal embrace!
All the sorrows her bosom bore,
All her pains and afflictions sore,
At length supremely repaid;
There she reigns on the cloudless height,
Only less than the Lord of light,
In hues immortal arrayed.
There she lives as a fount of grace,
Ever flowing for Adam’s race,
And still for ever to flow;
There, while ages on ages run,
Sweetly, sweetly, she pleads with her Son
For us her children below.
Lady, than all the heavens more high,
More than seraph in purity,
A glance of pity incline!
Teach us to feel, teach us to know,
Teach us in life and death to shew
What treasures of grace are thine.
Henry Formby, ed., First Series of Hymns and Songs for the Use of Catholic Schools and Families (London: Burns and Lambert, 1853).