Devotions To Mary

Innocence by
William-Adolphe Bouguereau

Let the Lord have a care for justice; but the Lady is mercy entire.

“Holy Mary, Queen Of Mercy,...”

You grant every petition for mercy, even from the most hardened sinners. You hear and grant even the prayers which are unspoken, in hearts too weak to pray. So I know that you hear me now, and that my temptations are not as great as they might otherwise be, without your presence in the world. You lift me up, not for my own sake, since there is nothing in me worthy of honor, but for the sake of God, and the greater glory of His name. It is not I, but God, who is lifted up in me.


Therefore, there can be no reason to withhold your favors; since you are not stooping to regard an undeserving sinner, but rather raising up your hands in worship to the Most High. For where a sinner is downcast, there a vein of God's golden light is hidden and smothered under a heap; and where a sinner is saved, God's light is allowed to shine without obstruction.


  You are that light-bearer who delves into the darkness, in order to illuminate the hearts of darkened souls. You do not seek for other beacons like yourself, already shining in full glory and set upon a height. So it is proper that I, a low and disobedient servant, should raise my voice in prayer, and signal you, who are already seeking ones like me, in need of your divine pardon and protection.


Come, and clear away the gross debris which covers me, and the light of God which is in me. Blow a kiss, and obliterate with your sweet breath the ashes of my sins, and the dust of my self-love which crowds and clings and holds me down. Consecrate me entirely to this love, and to the service of love. Blot out all traces of my former life, and carry me swiftly into the radiance of the life to come. Suffer me not to look aside, where diverse creatures seek my capture, nor let me cast a backwards glance into the pit I called my home. Bring me joyful and solemn into the presence of my King.


Before ever I raised my voice to you in prayer, before ever my heart sank into the seat of contrition in my soul, you heard and hearkened unto me, and guided my heart to the place of repentance. I know this, because it is a grace even to pray for graces, and to discover that one is lost is the beginning of finding one's way. You are the Mother of my soul, whose love and solicitude on my soul's behalf is without parallel, except for the transforming and triumphant love of Christ, Your Son.


But, while His love for me is the love of an older for a younger brother, yours is a maternal love, more tender still in its expressions. To all, you are a mother, but most of all, to those who cry out to you, being greatly in need of your protection. To your breast we are gathered, as ripe wheat in a field, and carried safely out of the rain. In your lap, we are cradled like tiny lambs. Our cares are smoothed like wrinkles in cloth.


"O blessed hope! O safe refuge!
The Mother of God is my mother!
How firm should be our confidence
since our salvation depends on
the judgment of so good a Brother
and so tender a Mother."
~ Saint Anselm


Let my first thought, in the hour of temptation, be of you, sweet Mother, so that your spirit will promptly be alerted to my danger, and your gentle strength come swiftly to my rescue. Let me place my confidence in you, Sweet Lady, who exists only to answer the cries of the wretched, and to bring comfort to the hearts afflicted with sin.


Be always in my reflections, and in the secret stirrings of my breast. And as the cool dew that bends upon the morning grass, let your name form upon my lips, first thing, when I awake. To call you "Mother" is the only honor I would seek.