She stripp’d her garden of all sweet flowers,
And sow’d it with thorns and rue.
And angels would come and make her one
(In dreams) of their seraph crew,
And often the Fiend, in his beauty screen’d,
Her spirit would fain subdue,
But evil could only fail to prevail
With the blessed St. Rose of Peru.
And these are the reasons her fame would grow
In the World they call the New,