Mary From thy Sacred Image

The author and composer of this hymn about Our Lady of Perpetual Succour are unknown.
    Hymn-books which it has been published in include
    • Manual of Select Catholic Hymns and Devotions for the Use of Schools, Colleges, Academies and Congregations. New York 1925 - unattributed
    • A Redemptorist hymn-book printed in 1946 (ref), - unattributed
    • The Leeds Catholic Hymnal, 1957 (ref), unattributed - the source of the sheet music
    • Hymns used by the Pupils of the Sisters of Notre Dame, 1955
    Based on the first of these, it is assumed that the hymn is now in the public domain.


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    Singers with keyboard-style backing track

    Singer with backing track:

    Choir with organ - recorded live in a church service:

    Choir with band:

    Instrumental - piano:


    Mary from thy Sacred Image
    with those eyes so sadly sweet,
    Mother of Perpetual Succour
    see us kneeling at thy feet.
    In thine arms thy Child thou bearest;
    Source of all thy joy and woe;
    What thy bliss, how deep thy sorrows,
    Mother thou alone canst know.

    On thy face He is not gazing,
    Nor on us is turned His glance
    For His anxious look He fixes
    On the Cross and Reed and Lance
    To thy hands His hands are clinging
    As a child would cling in fear,
    Of that vision of the torments
    Of His Passion drawing near.

    And for Him thine eyes are pleading
    While to us they look and cry:
    "Sinners spare my Child your Saviour,
    seek not still to crucify."
    Yes, we hear thy words sweet Mother,
    But poor sinners we are weak;
    At thy feet thy helpless children
    Thy Perpetual Succour seek.

    Succour us when clouds of sadness;
    Hide the light of heaven above;
    Hope expires and faith scares lingers;
    And we dare not think we love.
    In that hour of gloom and peril,
    Show to us thy radiant face,
    Smiling down from thy loved Image,
    Rays of cheering light and grace.

    Succour us when stormy passion,
    Sudden rise within the heart.
    Quell the tempest, calm the billows,
    Peace secure to us impart.
    Through this life of weary exile
    Succour us in every need;
    And when death shall come to free us,
    Succour us ah! then indeed.

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