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Rh Oh, grant us, Mary, good success, And make our home with plenty smile. Hail, &c.

Sweet Mother, light our outward track, Poor helpless little fishers three, And bring our boat in safety back, Across the wide and pathless sea. Hail, &c.

 

, Mary! now the sun is up: All things around look glad and bright, And heatherbell and buttercup Shake off the dewdrops of the night. The lambs are frisking in the fields, The lark is singing in the sky; And man his wakening tribute yields To thee and thy sweet Son on high.

Hail, Mary! midway in the sky The noontide sun its lustre sheds; The field-flowers almost seem to die, So low they hang their drooping heads. The lambs have sought the woodland shade, The lark has ceas'd his note of glee; And pausing in the furrow'd glade, The ploughman lifts his hat to thee.

Hail, Mary! now the sun is far Adown his western path of light; 