Mary, the Help of Christians

O Mary, dear Mother, how fondly I flee
In dark hours of peril, Sweet Refuge, to thee!
When danger is greatest, the world most unkind,
My safety, my solace in thee do I find.

Oh, help me in life, in its work and its woes,
To carry my crosses, to conquer my foes!
Oh, help me in death, that my soul be set free
To fly unto Jesus, thy Son, and to thee!

In thy blessed keeping my soul is secure,
Though foes gather round to affright or allure;
I fear not the demon, his might nor his charms,
When cheered by thy presence, upheld by thy arms.

I fear not the wicked, their weapons, their skill;
I fear not the world, let it rage as it will;
I fear not my passions, though wayward and wild,
If thou, Help of Christians, wilt shelter thy child.

In moments of sorrow, in anguish of heart,
In pain, in affliction, my Comfort thou art;
When coldly repulsed and abandoned by all,
Thou still standest by me, thou hearest my call.

E. F. MacGonigle, The Sodalist’s Hymnal (Philadelphia: E. F. MacGonigle, 1887).

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