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Help Us Gather Roses ― A ballad to Our Lady of Guadalupe for the unborn, and ourselves You appeared in a land Where many had been slain They died in sacrifice During the Aztec reign. You sought upon a hill
A temple where to show, The bishop asked a sign That
truly you had spoke, Twas December and a time Of whitened frost and cold Refrain The abode of thorn it was, Where flowers never grew, He gathered roses there In the mantle which he wore, |
And beauty took from you To the bishop met before. From the
mantle roses fell And scattered on the floor... On the mantle didst appear The one without a taint! Refrain: Nuestra Madre etc. O help us gather roses From place of stony ground |
The tiny one destroyed
Is someone's son or daughter! O thou who's clad in turquoise And gown of figured rose, O virgin of Ros'ry joys Who stands in humble pose, Imprint on every heart A likeness of thyself, And virtue thine impart To my neighbor and myself. Refrain: Nuestra Madre etc. (Translation of the refrain: |
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