May is Mary's Month. Pray that we have a Pope who increases devotion to Our Lady

 

The Happy Birds Te Deum Sing - full text

1 The happy birds Te Deum sing, 

'Tis Mary's month of May; 

Her smile turns winter into spring, 

And darkness into day; 

And there's a fragrance in the air, 

The bells their music make, 

And O the world is bright and fair, 

And all for Mary's sake. 

2 Where'er we seek the holy Child, 

At every sacred spot, 

We meet the Mother undefiled; 

Who shun her seek him not: 

At cloistered Nazareth we see, 

At haunted Bethlehem, 

The throne of Jesus, Mary's knee, 

Her smile, his diadem. 

3 The Daughter, Mother, Spouse of God, 

None silence her appeal 

Who long to tread where Jesus trod, 

What Jesus felt to feel. 

O Virgin-born, from thee we learn 

To love thy Mother dear; 

Her teach us duly to discern, 

And rightly to revere. 

4 To love the Mother, people say, 

Is to defraud the Son; 

For them, alas, there dawns no May, 

Until their hearts are won: 

Then, when their hearts begin to burn, 

Ah, then, to Jesus true, 

And loving whom he loves, they learn 

To love Saint Mary too. 

5 How many are the thoughts that throng 

On faithful souls to-day! 

All year we sing our Lady's song, 

'Tis still the song of May: 

Magnificat ! 

O may we feel That rapture more and more; 

And chiefly, Lord, what time we kneel 

Thine altar-throne before. 

6 'Tis then, when at thy feet we pray, 

We share our Lady's mirth; 

Her joy we know who hail to-day 

Thy Eucharistic birth; 

That trembling joy to Mary sent, 

Ah, Christians know it well, 

With whom in his dear sacrament 

Their Saviour deigns to dwell. 

7 Yes, Mary's month has come again, 

The merry month of May; 

And sufferers forget their pain, 

And sorrows flee away, 

And joys return, the hearts whose moan 

Was desolate erewhile 

Are blithe and gay, once more they own 

The charm of Mary's smile. 

8 Thy Son our Brother is, and we, 

Whatever may betide,  

A Mother, Mary, have in thee, 

A guardian and a guide; 

Thy smiles a tale of gladness tell 

No words can ever say; 

If but, like thee, we love him well, 

The year will all be May. 

9 All hail! An angel spake the words 

We lovingly repeat; 

The song-notes of the singing birds 

They are not half so sweet: 

This is a music that endures, 

It cannot pass away, 

For Mary's children it ensures 

A never-ending May. 

Rev Alfred Gurney (1843-98), Vicar of St Barnabas, Pimlico.

And liturgically followed by the Regina Caeli.  Let us pray that the birds will not stop singing when the new Pope comes onto the balcony