My little mother, queen, and saint
A little flower I found one day
Thérèse, whose fragrance none can hide
Sweet, from above, where she abides

My little mother, queen, and saint
Whose petals hold the dew and rain
Of grace from God that falls up there
That makes its fields so pure and fair

My little mother, queen, and saint
Who lets me drink that I'll not faint
Each time my lips are moist, refreshed
It seems that more of me is fetched

'till nothing's left, is what I pray
But that which falls Thérèse's way
And somehow changes beautifully
Me, that is, where I can see

I wish that I could run right now
All through those fields, I see, and how
I'd not come back, but stay to thank
My little mother, queen, and saint