Queen of the Holy Rosary
Queen of the Holy Rosary! Thee as our Queen we greet,
And lay our lowly, loving prayers Like roses at thy feet.
Would that these blossoms of our souls Were far more fair and sweet.
Queen of the Joyful Mysteries! Glad news God’s envoy bore.
The Baptist’s mother thou didst tend; Angels thy Babe adore,
Whom with two doves thou ransomest;
Lost, He is found once more.
Queen of the Dolorous Mysteries!
Christ ‘mid the olives bled, Scourged at the pillar, crowned with thorns,
Beneath His Cross He sped Up the steep hill;
and there once more Thine arms embraced Him–dead!
Queen of the Glorious Mysteries! Christ from the tomb has flown,
Has mounted to the highest heaven
And sent His Spirit down
And soon He raises thee on high To wear thy heavenly crown.
Queen of the Holy Rosary!
We, too, have joys and woes.
May they, like thine, to triumph lead! May labor earn repose,
And may life’s sorrows and life’s joys In heavenly glory close.
As I contemplate this poem, how have I seen the mysteries of Christ’s life reflected in my own? How can this identification help me to pray the Rosary with greater recollection?