The mother her lullaby rhyming, 
The old man asleep in his chair, 
The bells in the distance chiming 
The summons to evening prayer. 
To her loved one the maid was clinging, 
As she fled to return no more, 
But touched with regret by the singing, 
She stood by the old church door. 
    "Sancta Maria, Sancta Maria, 
    Sancta Maria, exaudi nos!"

Her home and its peace forsaking, 
She stood in the world alone, 
She knew that her sad heart was breaking, 
All joy from her heart had flown. 
Long she dwelt in the distant city,
When all that was fair had fled,
And sighed for the love and pity,
And the tears o'er her childhood shed.
    "Sancta Maria, Sancta Maria, 
    Sancta Maria, exaudi nos!" 

The storm rose higher and higher, 
For those who the ocean brave; 
The mother prayed with the choir, 
And the old man slept in the grave. 
A wanderer forlorn and dying, 
Stole up to the old church door; 
There the worshippers found her lying, 
She will list to their songs no more. 
    "Sancta Maria, Sancta Maria, 
    Sancta Maria, exaudi nos!"