An English Herod drove her forth
In exile, from the place
Where she had been so bountiful
With heavenly grace.
And in her absence from the land
Such lies were put abroad
That scorning Mary seemed to be
Praising Our Lord.
Alas! that any Englishman
Should think dishonour done
To that sweet Mother, would not be
Grief to her Son.
The little Prince of Walsingham
Will not reign there alone.
He will not come till we restore
His Mother’s throne.
Rebuild, rebuild at Walsingham
Our Lady’s ancient shrine!
Then will He give us through her hands
His gifts divine