Daily, daily, sing to Mary,nsing my soul, her praises due;nall her feasts, her actions honour,nwith the heart’s devotion true.
Lost in wond’ring contemplationnbe her majesty confessed:ncall her Mother, call her Virgin,nhappy Mother, Virgin blest
Sing, my tongue, the Virgin’s trophies,nwho for us her Maker bore;nfor the curse of old inficted,npeace and blessings to restore.
Sing in songs of praise unending,nsing the world’s majestic Queen;nweary not nor faint in tellingnall the gifts she gives to men.
All my senses, heart, affections,nstrive to sound her glory forth;nspread abroad the sweet memorials,nof the Virgin’s priceless worth,nwhere the voice of music thrilling,nwhere the tongues of eloquence,nthat can utter hymns beseemingnall her matchless excellence?
All our joys do fow from Mary,nall then join her praise to sing;ntrembling sing the Virgin Mother,
Mother of our Lord and King,nwhile we sing her awful glory,nfar above our fancy’s reach,nlet our hearts be quick to offernlove the heart alone can teach.