41. Immaculate! Immaculate!

O Mother! I could weep for mirth,
Joy fills my heart so fast;
My soul to-day is heaven on earth,
O could the transport last!
I think of thee, and what thou art.
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Immaculate! Immaculate!
H*

when Jesus looks upon thy face,
His Heart with rapture glows,
And in the Church, by His sweet grace,
Thy blessed worship grows.
I think of thee, and what thou art,
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Immaculate! Immaculate 1

The angels answer with their songs,
Bright choirs in gleaming rows;
And saints flock round thy feet in throngs.
And heaven with bliss o'erflows.
I think of thee, and what thou art.
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Immaculate! Immaculate I

And I would rather. Mother dear!
Thou shouldst be what thou art.
Than sit where thou dost, oh so near
Unto the Sacred Heart.
I think of thee, and what thou art,
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Injmaculate! Immaculate I

Yes, I would forfeit all for thee,
Rather than thou shouldst miss
One jewel from thy majesty,
One glory from thy bliss.
I think of thee, and what thou art,
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Immaculate! Immaculate!

Nay, I could die, and with the sense
That 'twere but loss to live.
Could I but die in dear defence
Of this prerogative.
I think of thee, and what thou art,
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Immaculate! Immaculate!

Conceived, conceived Immaculate!
Oh what a joy for thee!
Conceived, conceived Immaculate!
Oh greater joy for me!
I think of thee, and what thou art,
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Immaculate! Immaculate!

It is this thought to-day that lifts
My happy heart to heaven,
that for our sakes thy clioicest gifts
To thee, dear Queen! were given.
I think of thee, and what thou art,
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Immaculate! Immaculate!

The glory that belongs to thee
Seems rather mine than thine,
While all the cares that harass me
Are rather thine than mine.
I think of thee, and what thou art,
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Immaculate! Immaculate!

Then blessed be the Eternal Son,
Who joys to call thee mother.
And lets poor men by sin undone
For thy sake call Him brother.
I think of thee, and what thou art,
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Immaculate! Immaculate!

Immaculate Conception! far
Above all graces blest!
Thou shinest like a royal star
On God's Eternal Breast.
I think of thee, and what thou art,
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Immaculate! Immaculate!

God prosper thee, my Mother dear!
God prosper thee, my Queen!
God prosper His own glory here.
As it hath ever been!
I think of thee, and what thou art,
Thy majesty, thy state;
And I keep singing in my heart, —
Immaculate! Immaculate!