Have stilled the angry world so oft, this glorious city spare!
By the lowliness of Him whose gentle-hearted sway
A thousand lands are blessing now, dear Mother Mary, pray.
By the pageants bright, whose golden light hath flashed through street and square,
And by the long processions that have borne thy Jesus there;
By the glories of the saints; by the honors that were thine;
By all the worship God hath got from many a blazing shrine;
By all heroic deeds of saints that Rome hath ever seen;
By all the times her multitudes have crowned thee for their queen;
By all the glory God hath gained from out that wondrous place,