No matter what, in our lives, we do
Everything is better when I work with you
He created us to be together, created us to share
In His Glory and feel his presence everywhere
On our own, we try to create a song, a work of art
It's simple and awkward, but filled with such heart
We were not supposed to go it alone
But as iron sharpens iron to help and hone
We try to do the will of God
We try to hear what He is saying
Our attempts are small and feeble at best
But he sees us and quietly he smiles and nods
He whispers in our ear "Don't stop. Keep playing"
And transforms our sad solo into a divine duet

When we find ourselves taken by bitter sorrow
When we don't know if the sun will rise tomorrow
When we drink with Jesus the cup of suffering
When we think about his blood that is covering
When we recall the seven sorrows of Mary
And how, her son's lifeless body, she would carry
Midwives used myrrh against pain in childbirth
Mary, of all women, knew how much it is worth
Her very name is from Myrrh: meaning bitter
And through it all she wasn't a quitter
It is costly and rare, signifying suffering and death
But it is also used to prepare and purify
The bodies of those who had died
She shares our sorrows, and she dries our tears
She listens and prays for us; she understands our fears
We can run to our mother and be safe in her arms
To find healing and peace away from all that harms
She knows the value of suffering
And she knows just what it cost
A gift of love transcending everything
Her son hung on a rugged cross

Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour of our death
Through our suffering, prepare our hearts and purify
That we might be an acceptable offering to God when we die
Take us back home to Heaven where we belong
When we are together, we are better; we are strong

On a church, Mother Mary gazes up high
with her saving babe on her stone arm.
On her alabaster face: a cryptic smile
that has its own fine chiseled charm.

While I stand in the old town’s cobblestone street,
my mind sees me in a far distant place.
The visions I see speak of defeat,
a void that devours all grace.

I see myself floating in a brittle wood boat
with sails torn to shreds by the storms.
Frantically I toil to stay afloat,
tossed by black waves which ebb and reform.

Her disk halo of gold shines out in the dark,
glinting to those who sail by.
I ask her: tell me what can give me a spark
to let me soar up into the sky.

She offers no answer in so many words
and just smiles on, stonily serene.
In her silence is where her answer is heard,
a quiet reply — I know just what she means.

The rock of her tells me what I must hear:
No need to soar nor fly nor flee.
Let black tides flow past me ‘til they clear.
Like this old pale statue, just simply be.

Agèd lady sits,
holding her silver and gold —
Anne, Mary, the Son

Anne’s daughter’s the moon,
sits on the throne of wisdom —
crowned in golden stars

Moon begets the Son
who’s fathered by breath of flame —
Both pierced by a spear

Two women, one son —
A motherly trinity
that shines in splendor

Hail Mary; most holy Queen of Heaven
Overshadowed by love's pure expression
Crowned with glory like the shining sun
Great mother of Jesus; the Most High one
Clothed in robes made from a sea of stars
You held the hands that bore the scars
Queen of the angels and of the saints
What stellar beauty Our Lady paints

Holy Mary crowned with glory
Bright shining as the sun
Queen of Mercy and of love
You crush the evil one
We are in your tenderness
In your kindness and endless grace
We are your children who you love to bless
And wrap with sweetest embrace
Gentle woman, blessed mother
Obedient to Our Father's will
Your faith in God was like no other
And that courage inspires still
Taken wholly up to Heaven
When this life on earth was through
Now we ask your intercession,
Pray for us in all we say and do
Dear mother by virtue of the union
Lead us to your son our Lord
That we too may live in communion
In that Life and Love outpoured

Mother of Mercy, channel of Grace
Wrap our hearts in thine embrace
Fount of Love and joyful giver
Bathe us in thy cleansing river
Help our hearts be as new fallen snow
And aid us so our holiness might grow
Pray to Jesus for us poor sinners
Open our hearts as we read the scriptures
May we show mercy to others
Treating all as sisters and brothers
Oh, source of help in our time of need
Hear us Oh Holy Mother and intercede
Help us each to pause, ponder, and reflect
On the moments of our lives in retrospect
To learn from, to cherish and to hold
To warm us when we are in the cold
Mother of Mercy grant us your peace
May our love for thee ever increase
Through the merits of thy maternal love
May it, now and always, ever be enough

In the ancient Gothic church
Mother Mary whispers here;
Her stony face looks out at me,
blank eyes that shed a granite tear:
There beneath her warming cloak
a mass of children huddle there,
seeking shelter and maternal love —
their fears and pains that she will bear
are lit by a sea of candlelight
that lifts cares hence, way up high,
borne aloft away from here,
to dissipate in distant skies

O mother of the Saviour of the world,
     Blesséd art thou, among all women blest,
For God himselfe within thy womb was curl'd,
     And God himselfe did suckle at thy brest;
And he that dyed and rose and quitt the tomb
Blossom'd within thy house and there did bloom.

The firstborn fruit of Gods inerrant seede,
     Press'd like a bunch of grapes beneathe His wrath
Untill the Man of Sorrowes sore did bleede
     And suffer more than any martyr hath,
Was offer'd vpp a sacrifice for mee
By Father God and, Mother Mary, thee.

Woman, behold thy Sonne, the glorifi'd,
     Transfigur'd Kinge of Heauen; lion, lamb,
Messiah, God and man who liu'd and died
     And liues againe for aye, and is I AM;
Like Abraham, the LORD did ask thy Sonne;
Like Abraham, thou saidst, Thy will be donne.

Striving in fear
or living in favour
Feeling the dread
or hearing the angel