The fathers lived a life in shade, Yet seemed to Peter's vision seven White glistening lilies for the Maid, The Queen of heaven. Through city streets, o'er hills and plains, Upborne by love divine, they trod, To fix in men the Mother's pains, The swords of God. This was the power in which they spoke, Till each wild passion owned their sway: They cheered the sad, from sinners broke Their chains away. Till at last the Virgin Queen Led them to mansions in the sky, Mansions where garlands aye are green, And never die. May they hear cries of all who pray, And see how hard our earthly strife: Aiding us onward to the day When all is life. Now to the Father thanks and praise; To Thee, O Son, the same we send; To Thee, great Spirit, through all days, World without end.