Sweet source of pity, patient sorrow’s balm,
At thy mild bidding all our anguish dies,
And grief’s wild billows soften into calm.
When human hearts bring sympathy and share
The woes of others, Mother, thou art there!
When the sad penitent laments in vain
O’er wasted moments—thou dost hope restore—
To the pale captive, and the child of pain,
Thou bringest liberty and health once more!
All generous deeds and tender charities