Whitney Eckert, ‘03
The Fordham Monthly (May 1904)
How often in the blessed month of May,
We gather her nightly round her statue fair
To offer up a hymn of praise and gladness,
Or murmur at her feet a fervent prayer.
Ah! Mother, as we silent kneel around thee,
And lay our cares and troubles at thy feet,
A holy peace from Heaven steals upon us,
That makes thy tender love seem e’en more sweet.
How often when our hearts are torn with anguish,
When every hope lies buried in despair;
We’ll think of these bright days of youth and promise
So full of gladness and so free from care.
Oh! May our hearts be ever young and sinless,
As when we knelt upon the dew-kissed sod;
Make us, O Mother, still to feel thy kindness,
And offer up for us they prayers to God.