The Saints, They Cried

The was born a woman, noble and fair
Her eyes held the sky, the sun dwelt in her hair
Her lips red as roses, skin silken smooth
The fieriest of hearts her smile could sooth

When she sang out, the angels heard
So soft her voice, so clear her word
So lovely her soul that when she died
The children wept, the saints, they cried

She never imposed, her presence always a grace
No one ere knew a brighter charm, a kinder face
Yet she was not haughty, nor self-righteous or snide
She always deferred to the most merciful side

When she sang out, the angels heard
So soft her voice, so clear her word
So lovely her soul that when she died
The children wept, the saints, they cried

Her benevolence abundant, her joy unbound
Her children were brought up well, with morals quite sound
She always gave of herself, but never required
Anything in return, only good will she desired

When she sang out, the angels heard
So soft her voice, so clear her word
So lovely her soul that when she died
The children wept, the saints, they cried

In time she left the world which we all hold so dear
But we know that this what not her place to remain
Her soul was too far bright to linger only here
She left for Him who washes away every stain

When she sang out, the angels heard
So soft her voice, so clear her word
So lovely her soul that when she died
The children wept, the saints, they cried