Luther's hymn in praise of the blessed Theotokos:
To me she's dear, the worthy maid,
And I cannot forget her;
Praise, honor, virtue her are said,
Then all will love her better.
I seek her good,
And if I should
Right evil fare,
I do not care,
She'll make up for it to me
With love and truth that will not tire,
Which she will ever show me,
And do all my desire.
She wears of purest gold a crown
Twelve stars their rays are twining,
Her rainment, glorious as the sun,
And bright from far is shining.
Her feet the moon
Are set upon
She is the bride
With the Lord to hide.
Sore travail is upon her;
She bringest forth a noble Son
Whom all the world must honor,
Their king, the only one.
That makes the dragon rage and roar,
He will the child upswallow;
His raging comes to nothing more;
No jot of gain will follow.
The infant high
Up to the sky
Away is heft
And he is left
On earth,all mad with murder.
The mother now alone is she,
But God will watchful guard her.
And the right Father he.
Sadly, this thread is far too full of rage and roar...not from you whom I have pinged.
I like that hymn.
Thank you for the beautiful hymn.