O Lamb of God, whose love di­vine
Draws vir­gin souls to fol­low Thee;
And bids them earth­ly joys re­sign
If so they may Thy beau­ty see;

The saint of whom we sing to­day
Was faith­ful to Thy lov­ing call,
And, cast­ing oth­er hopes away,
Took Thee to be her God, her all.

To Thee she yield­ed up her will,
Her heart was drawn to Thine above;
Content if Thou wouldst deign to fill
Thine hand­maid with Thy per­fect love.

Beneath Thy cross she loved to stand,
Like Ma­ry in Thy dy­ing hour,
That bless­ings from Thy pierc­èd hand
Might clothe her with un­dy­ing pow­er;

With pow­er to win the crown of light
For vir­gin souls laid up on high,
And rea­dy keep her lamp at night
To hail the Bride­groom draw­ing nigh.

And sure­ly Thou at last didst come
To end the sor­rows of Thy bride,
And bear her to Thy peace­ful home
With Thee for ev­er to abide.

All glo­ry, Je­su, for the grace
That drew Thy saint to fol­low Thee;
Grant us too in Thy love a place
Both now and through eter­ni­ty.