Arise! the cold blasts from earth have receded,
And in the fields are lovely flowers smiling,
For thee, O gracious Mother, bearer of Life.
Arise, O Mary!
Beautiful Lily blooming ‘mid the brambles,
Death’s haughty author thou alone didst conquer,
Plucking life-giving tree of fruits the fathers
By sin did not taste.
Ark of sweet wood not destined for ruin,
Holding the manna, whence springs forth the power
Summoning forth the bones arisen again
From depths of the tomb.
Thou handmaid, faithful to the Ruler of hearts,
Thy flesh cruel decay could never even touch,
Thy soul of Spirit partaking without end,
Has winged to the stars.
Leaning on thy beloved, arise, go heav’nward!
Accept the crown with stars for thee bedecked,
List to the hymn thy children sing on this day,
Calling thee blessed.
Praise to the Triune Godhead everlasting,
Who hath caused thee, O Virgin, to be crowned,
And providently willed our Queen thou shouldst be
Also our Mother.
– From: An Approved English Translation of the Breviarium Romanum, Burns & Oates, London, 1964