OF ONE THAT is so fair and bright
Brighter than the day is light,
I cry to thee to turn to me;
Lady, pray thy Son for me,
That I may come to thee.
In sorrow, counsel thou art best,
For all the weary thou art rest,
Beseech Him in thy mildest mood,
Who for us did shed His Blood.
All this world was forlorn,
Till Our Saviour Lord was born
With thy Ave sin went away,
Dark night went and in came day.
The well of healing sprang from thee.
Lady, Bower of everything,
Thou bore Jesus, Heaven's King,
Of all I say thou bore the prize,
Lady, Queen of Paradise
Maiden mild, Mother.
Well He knows He is thy Son,
He will not refuse thy bone,
So courteous and so good He is,
He hath brought us to our bliss
Who hast shut up the dark foul pit.
NOTE: bone in the second line of the last stanza is Latin for request,
in order for the rhyme to occur as it should in the scheme of the poem.