Your help, propitious Mother, lend us
And from the dreadful foe defend us.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, now and for ever and ever.
Hail, Virginal Mother, hail, temple divine;
The glory of angels and purity's shrine;
Hail, comfort of mourners, bright garden of joy;
Whose beauties the songs of all angels employ.
The type of your patience is victory's palm;
your chastity's figure the fragrance of balm.
Oh, blessed the clay Out of which you were wrought,
So utterly free From original blot,
Oh, city exalted. Bright orient gate,
What graces unite In your singular state!
Like a lily in the midst of thorns.The Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary - Index
So among Adam's daughters is my beloved.