Who gladdened the days with her homespun ways,
And the charm of her tranquil face.
A song to the woman who made the Home,
Who hovered about the nest
With the sheltering wings of a mother’s prayers,
And the warmth of a mother’s breast.
To her be the chaplet of stars we bring!
To her be our gifts of myrrh!
For heaven is heaven and God is God,
For the goodness we found in her.