62. Saint Joseph our Father

There are many saints above
Who love us with true love,
Many angels ever nigh;
But Joseph! none there be,
Oh none, who love like thee, —
Dearest of Saints! be near us when we die!

Thou wert guardian of our Lord,
Foster-father of the Word,
Who in thine arms did lie:
If we His brothers be.
We are foster-sons to thee, —
Dearast of Saints! be near us when we die!

Thou wert Mary's earthly guide,
For ever at her side,
Oh for her sake hear our cry;
For we follow in thy way,
Loving Mary as we may; —
Dearest of Saints! be near us when we die I

Thou to Mary's virgin love
Wert the image of the Dove,
Who was her Spouse on high;
Bring us gifts from Him, dear Saint!
Bring us comfort when we faint;
Dearest of Saints! be near us when we die!

Thou wert a shadow thrown,
From the Father's summit lone^
Over Mary's life to lie;
Oh be thy shadow cast
O'er our present and our past;
Dearest of Saints! be near us when we die I

Sadly o'er the desert sand,
Into Egypt's darksome land,
As an exile didst thou fly;
And we are exiles too,
With a world to travel through;
Dearest of Saints! be near us when we die I

When thy gentle years were run,
On the bosom of thy Son,
Like an infant didst thou lie:
Oh by thy happy death,
In that tranquil Nazareth,
Dearest of Saints! be near us when we die!