My God is not a distant God
Nor one that’s hard to understand
He goes with me along life’s road
And holds my hand

And steadies me when roads are rough
And helps when hills are hard to climb
And when the going’s extra tough
I cling to him

My Christ is not a cruel Christ
Patient and kind and true is he
He made me, through Him I exist
He died for me

He hears each faint prayer I repeat
He knows the very thoughts I think
He gives His flesh to me to eat
His blood to drink

My God is not a cruel God
He smiles on each good deed I do
He only frowns on sin and fraud
My lover true.

Tis a sweet wee holy prayer
For October or for May
Anytime or anywhere
Tisn’t difficult to say
You could say it cooking – sewing
Or when cleaning up the place
When home-coming when out-going
Hail, Mary, Full of Grace

It will sanctify your losses
And turn them all to gains
It will glorify your crosses
And pacify your pains
Say it when your hopes grow dimmer
And your struggles grimmer grow
Pray it in your spells of gladness
And of sadness and of woe

Say it when you’re feeling weary
And your heart is sad and sore
And the oftener you pray it
You will come to love it more
You will grow to say it sleeping
And when death you have to face
None in vain has ever prayed it
Hail, Mary, Full of Grace.

Holy Mary! be not to me as a stranger grand and great
But as Mamma waiting for me opening the garden gate
Not so much as Queen in glory crowned upon a heavenly throne
I would rather look upon you as the Ma my youth has known.
Love of mother, love for mother each of these is special love
Less of earth and more of heaven are these blessings from above
So in Maytime I would like you’d be (my) a motherly mamma
To your sonny who offended his Allpowerful Da-Da
To your little (touseled) weeping toddler who has tripped and cut his face
With his pinafore all muddy and his curls all out of place
I would like to see you soothe me as my mother used to do
In the happy days of childhood ere she went away to you
As you used to teach sweet Jesus how to walk and how to stand
I would love to walk beside you, I would love to hold your hand
It is Maytime, Holy Mary, let me now your ba-ba be
Let me love you as the mamma that my mother was to me