Hail, O Mary, full of grace, Daughter true of David's race! Thou, of women first and best, Art beyond all others blest. Fear not, thou shalt bear a Son, Aided by the Holy One; Greater than the greatest, he Son of God most high shall be.' Thus the holy angel said. Blessed Mary bowed her head: 'Lo, the handmaid of the Lord; With his word may all accord.' So to hearts still undefiled Comes the promise of a child, Full of joy, akin to tears, Full of hope, yet full of fears. Happy she who answers still, 'Be it, Lord, at thy sweet will; All I am to thee I owe, All thy purpose thou dost know. What thou givest to be mine, May it ne'er be aught but thine; Be it good or be it ill, Still be all at thy sweet will.' Holy Mary, taught by thee Let us vain forebodings flee. God is giving; fears must cease: In his will is perfect peace.