They’ve come to sing in your honor
from the desert and the forest,
From valleys deep in the mountains,
they make a joyful chorus.
They’ve brought their drums and their dances,
ancient ways their parents taught them;
Their village saints and their banners,
ev’ry group made sure they brought them.
O Mother dark and lovely,
hear the poor who come with their song;
Lead them into Jesus’ kingdom
where they truly do belong.
From Vera Cruz and Nogales,
from old Taxco with its fountains,
Tehuantepec, Zacatecas,
and Durango in the mountains;
They come from humid Tampico,
Matamoros near the river,
From ranchos deep in Sonora
where the cottonwoods still quiver.
They dance to show they love you,
out of faith and deep emotion,
They offer flowers and candles
as a sign of their devotion.
The children run and are laughing;
all are sure that you still love them,
While parents weep out of gladness,
for your picture’s there above them.
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