At morn--at noon--at twilight dim--
Though hast heard my hymn!
In joy and woe--In good and ill--
Mother of God, be with me still!
When the Hours flew brightly by,
And not a cloud obscured the sky,
My soul, lest it should truant be,
Thy grace did guide to thine and thee;
Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast
Darkly my Present and my past,
Let my Future radiant shine
With sweet hopes of thee and thine!

(Edgard Allan Poe)