Of all the sweet names that ever were given
To mortals on earth or seraphs in heaven,
No matter if borne by milkmaid of fairy,
The sweetest of all must ever be Mary.

There's Helen, the star of song and of story,
Men perished to wreathe her ringlets with glory;
There also is Ruth, the true and the tender,
Whose meekness and faith make strong men surrender.

And Mabel's name that ever sounds sweetly,
And charms and enchants a mortal completely,
While Katie suggests brown eyes and brown tresses,
Created for love and lover's caresses.

There's Maud, with a mouth as red as cherry,
With kisses so sweet, with laughter so merry;
There's Edith, whose eyes are blue as the fountains,
With ringlets of gold like morn on the mountains.

There's Blanch and Adele, that sound autocratic,
Poor Sarah and Jane that dwell in an attic,
While Emma is dear, all dote upon Jenny,
And Annie is loved not least among many.

But never a name like Mary is spoken;
The dearest of dreams revive at that token;
Each other brings joy or brightness or sweetness,
But Mary alone has perfect completeness.

The lady high-born who reigns in a castle,
The widow forlorn, the spouse of the vassal,
The captive chained down in dungeon cell dreary,
The diademed queen, may bear the name Mary.

And Mary's the soul who opes the heart's portals,
A sweetheart, perchance, the dearest of mortals;
A sister, whose soul is dowered with beauty,
Or mother, who lives for love and for duty.

It was Mary who first shed tears of contrition,
It was she who was blest with God's greatest mission;
She stood by His Cross, she saw His tomb riven,
Her name shall be first on earth and in Heaven.