"Hail, favored one," the angel said,
The virgin chaste bemusing
When he to Nazareth had sped
To tell her of God's choosing.
"The Lord be with you, of your sex
Most blest who e'er existed!"
—A greeting certain to perplex;
Yet Gabriel persisted:
"Fear not! With God you have found grace,
His Son in you conceiving!
His claim from David He will trace,
An endless throne receiving."
"How can this be?" the maid replied;
Yet by the Spirit's power
In Gabriel's word did she confide,
God's mother from that hour.
"How can this be?" our souls still cry
At this and every season:
That God would come in flesh to die
For sinners, beggars reason.
O Spirit, overshadow us,
Faith in God's word conceiving!
Plant in our hearts an eagerness
To hear Your word, believing.
"Behold the servant of the Lord,"
The blessèd maid responded:
"Be it according to your word."
Oh, that such faith abounded
With us! Oh, for the Spirit's strength
To walk in Christ, enduring
Till Mary's Son returns at length,
Eternal life securing!
Lord, though our hearts be treasonous
And reason be our idol,
With faith like Mary's season us;
Lead us, as with a bridle,
To answer, "Savior, be it so."
Come birthpangs, grief or dying!
Your word is true—yea, this I know—
My hope, my crown supplying.
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