1 Shall we not love thee, Mother dear,
whom Jesus loves so well,
and to his glory, year by year
thy praise and honour tell?

2 Thee did he choose from whom to take
true flesh, his flesh to be;
in it to suffer for our sake,
and by it make us free.

3 O wondrous depth of love divine,
that he should bend so low;
and, Mary, O what joy was thine
the Saviour's love to know.

4 Joy to be mother of the Lord,
yet thine the truer bliss,
in ev'ry thought and deed and word
to be for ever his.

5 Now in the realm of life above
close to thy Son thou art,
while on thy soul glad streams of love
flow from his sacred heart.

6 Jesu, the Virgin's holy Son,
praise we thy mother blest;
grant when our earthly course is run,
life with the saints at rest.