Poems (Ford)/Help of Christians

HELP OF CHRISTIANS.

Oh! Mary, Help of Christians called,
Queen of the shining courts above,
Thy children lift their hearts to thee,
And trust in thy maternal love;
For thou wilt never turn away
From those who for thy succor pray.

Oh, mournful Mother, who didst stand
Beside the Cross on Calvary's hill,
When our dear Lord for sinners died,
And Nature's heart in awe stood still,
Dark days of sorrow didst thou see,—
Therefore in grief we turn to thee.

When dangers gather round our way,
And angry tempests o'er us frown,
When all the world seems dark and drear,
Do thou with pitying eyes look down,
And be a star to light the gloom,
And guide our wandering footsteps home.

Oh, Mother of our thorn-crowned King,
A mother's love we claim from thee;
Thou wert bequeathed to us by Him,
Our Mother and our Help to be;
Then, Help of Christians, hear our prayer,
And guard the children of thy care.

Though crowned in triumph by thy Son,
Queen of the realms of endless light,
And listening to the happy songs
Of ransomed souls and seraphs bright,
Yet thou art not too high to know
And sympathize with human woe.

Oh, pray for us to thy dear Son,
When waves of sorrow o'er us roll;
When dark temptations gather round,
Sustain and aid the fainting soul;
And as we drift o'er death's dark tide,
Oh, Help of Christians, be our guide.