John Bradford

1706 - 1785

To Our Lady Of Consolation

When by the ills of life dismay'd,
I pine in sorrow, pain, and care.
And deem the crosses on me laid
More weighty than my soul can bear ;
From thy dear Son for me obtain
Grace to be meek, resign'd, and calm,
Until my soul He fills again
With radiant hope's consoling balm ;
Consolatrix Afflictorum !

When sable doubts, obscuring fogs,
Infernal powers around me spread.
While dark distrust my footsteps clogs,
And makes me insecurely tread
The path that to my soul's home leads;
To mercy's God my woes recount,
And gain assistance for my needs
From His compassion's gashing fount ;
Consolatrix Afflictorum !

When retrospectively I gaze,
With pale dismay and trembling fear,
Upon the sins of bygone days ;
Until my soul is drawing near
To fell despair's black river's verge ;
Before Thy Son's effulgent throne,
For me thy potent pleadings urge,
Lest in its waves I be o'erthrown ;
Consolatrix Afflictorum !

When in life's last appalling hour,
Hell's fiends their final efforts try
To bring me 'neath their blighting power,
And freight with fear my heart's last sigh,
Pray Thy Almighty Son to yield
A glorious guard of angels bright.
From their assaults my soul to shield.
And bear it to the realms of light;
Consolatrix Afflictorum !
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