Humility was your middle name,
So at Tepeyac to you she came;
You really didn’t know what to say,
Your only thought was to stop and pray;
You became Our Lady’s holy slave,
Always trustworthy, and very brave;
You saw sweet roses out of season,
The Virgin gave them for a reason;
Then you brought them to the bishop’s place,
The people filled with God’s dazzling grace;
As at your tilma everyone gazed,
The most wondrous sign left all amazed.