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Here is recounted, set out in harmony, how quite recently, very miraculously, there appeared the ever virgin, saint Mary, Mother of God and our queen, over at Tepeyac, which is referred to as Guadalupe. She first revealed herself to an indian by the name of Juan Diego, and, after that, there appeared her sacred image in front of the late bishop, Don Fray Juan de Zumarraga.

When ten were the yearsSince the conquering of the waters, the hills of México City, When arrow, ! when shield lay stillWhen each expanse of waters, ! each expanse of hills had lulled to tranquility,

Then there was a beginning,There was a burgeoning,There was a blossomingOf believing in the truth of Him,Of recognizing the countenance of Him, ! Him because of whom life goes on,! Him who is the true divinity,! God himself.

It was the year one Thousand, Five Hundred and Thirty One,A few days into the month of December.It happened that there was an indian,Whose name was Juan Diego.According to hearsay,He was a dweller in Cuautitlan,But in things divineHe belonged entirely in Tlaltilolco

It was a Saturday, and still quite dark, When he was journeying in pursuitOf things divineAnd of the Commandments.

As he reaches the neighborhood of the hillockIn the area named Tepeyac, already dawn is brighteningDistinctly he hearsFrom the top of the hillock

ENGLISH TRANSLATIONFR MARTINUS CAWLEY

OUR LADY OF GUADALUPE TRAPPIST ABBEY - OREGON

A singing,Like that of varied rare birds of song.

Time and again subside those voices, As if for the hill itself to answer.How utterly soothing to the heart,How cheering to the soul,Is their song,

Surpassing that of the shrill bird,! That of the bell bird,! That of every other kind of lovely songbird!

Juan Diego stands still, gazes motionless.He says to himself:

Could it be that I be worthy? Could it be that I deserve what I am hearing?! Is it that I am dreaming?! Is it that l am sleep-walking?

Where am I?Where indeed do I seem to be?

Could it be even yonder,In the place they used to tell us of, those ancient men,Those great great grandfathers of ours-There in the land of the flowers bloom,There in the land of our flesh's corn?

Could it be even yonder,There in the land of the heavenly ones?Gazing he is to the top of that hillock, Towards the region of the sallying sun, When sallies forth also that heavenly, lovely song.

Then suddenly ceases the song,And hearkens he to the stillness;Then hears he a call,Coming to him from the top of the hillock, and saying;

"Juanito, Juan Dieguito!"

Hereupon ventures he to make his way up to where he is being called.Nothing of disturbance is in his heart, nor any stunning shock:Rather is he full content with it all, full glorying in it all,As he clambers up the hillock, whither he has been gazingAnd whence has been coming his call.

Upon his reaching the top of the hillock, he catches sight of a woman,One who has been taking her stand there. She beckons him to come on, closer up to herself.

Upon reaching her presence,He greatly marvelsAt her extreme, her surpassing, her perfect wonderfulness.

Her garments are as the sun,Gleaming, glittering.Even the boulder, the crag,On which she takes her standSparkles in resplendence,Like fine emerald jade on a bangle when it shines, Like the swarming glow of a rainbow in the gloom.

Even the soil,The brambles and pricklesAnd the rest of the varied weeds that struggle to survive there Are shiningLike emerald, like divine turquoise, To the tip of every leaf, are glitteringLike the golden scourings of the gods up every stalk and twig and thorn.

In her presence he prostrates:He listens to her utterance, her declaration. These are as of one who sets others at ease,One who is herself of the gentry born,One whose manner is to attract,One whose attitude is esteem.

She addresses him:

"Do listen to me,my littlest one, JuanitoWhither are you betaking yourself?"

He in turn makes reply:

"My sovereign, O woman, my maiden,It is yonder that I am bound,To your dwelling in México-Tlatilolco,In pursuit of things divineWhich they minister to us,Which they teach to us,Those representatives of the person of our sovereign, Who are our priests."

Forthwith she informs him,She presents to himHer sacred wish.

She addresses him:

"Do know this,Do be assured of it in your heart,My littlest one,That I myself, I am the entirely and ever virgin saint Mary,Mother of the true divinity,God himself:

Because of Him, life goes on, creation goes onHis are all things afar,His are all things near at hand, Things above in the heavens, Things here below on the earth.

Truly I wish it, How greatly I desire it, That here they should erect me my temple

Here would I show forth, Here would I lift up to view,

Here would I make a gift of ! All my fondness for my dear ones, ! All my regard for my needy ones, My willingness to aid them, My readiness to protect them.

For truly I myself,I am your compassionate mother, ! yours, for you yourself,For everybody here in the land, For each and all together,For all others too,For all folk of every kind,

Who do but cherish me,Who do but raise their voices to me,Who do but seek me,Who do but raise their trust to me.

For here I shall listen to their groanings, ! to their saddenings;Here shall I make well and heal up Their each and every kind of disappointment,! Of exhausting pangs, ! Of bitter aching pain.

But in order to realizeWhat I have in mindIn my regard for my needy ones, Do you, please, go to the palace of the bishop of México;

Go and tell him how it is I myself who am commissioning youThat you should present to himHow strongly I desire it ! That here, he should house me,! That here, on the level ground,He should erect my temple.

And give him a full accountOf all you have seen and wondered at And of whatever you have heard.

And do be assured of it in your heart ! That I Shall be full grateful and ! That I shall repay; For I Shall enrich you and make you prosperousAnd you shall very much merit that I compensate youFor the fatigue and the exertion of your going to procureWhat I am commissioning you to do.

And so you have heard,! My littlest one,My utterance, my declarationDo, please, betake yourselfAnd make every effort to carry it out.

Forth in he prostrated in her presenceAnd addressed her;

"My Sovereign, O Woman,Already am I goingThat I may realizeYour utterance, your declaration.

May I but take leave of you, I, your needy vassal.

On he went at onceTo go and realize his commission.He met up with the road of returnAnd straight off he headed for México City.

Upon reaching the womb of the city, at once he headed straightFor the palace of the bishop.

This was the priestly chieftainRecently taken office;His name was Don Fray Juan de Zumarraga, a priest of Saint Francis.

Having reached there,He at once tried hard to get to see him,Begging his stewards and domestics that he might go in and visit him.

Then, after quite a delay, someone did come out and call him in, for the lord bishop had given orders that he enter.

When he had entered, He knelt and prostrated in his presence.forthwith he presented and recounted The utterance, the declaration of the heavenly woman,Her commission to him.

Moreover, he told him Of all he had marveled at, Of all he had seen, Of all he had heard.

Upon hearing the wholeOf his declaration and commission,He seemed to make of it something less than the truth.He made answer and told him:

"Son, some other time you must come along, when I must listen to you at leisure, I shall look into the root of the matter For which you have come along and consider it, This wish, this desire of yours."

Off he sallied, Yet sadly trod he, For the bishop had not really credited his commission.

Thus turned he back and straight he headed, Still that same day, For the top of the hillock.

When he reached the presence Of the heavenly woman, The place where she had first appeared to him, There she was, standing and waiting for him. As soon as he caught sight of her, He prostrated, flung himself to the ground In her presence,And addressed her:

My sovereign, milady, O woman,My littlest one, O maiden,I have been to where you commissioned me that I go And realize your utterance, your declaration.

Albeit with difficulty, I did enter into the quarters of the priestly chieftain

Saw him and I laid before him your utterance, your declaration, Just as you had bidden me do,

He received me cheerfullyAnd listened to me in goodly mood, and yet when he answered me,It was as if his heart were not in it, As if he made of it less than the truth.

He said to me:Another time you shall come along,When I shall listen to you at leisureI shall look into the root of the matter For which you have come along,This desire, this wish of yours.

Well could I seeFrom the way he was answering meThat he was still thinking about whether this temple of yours,Which you wish that they make for you here, Were not something I had merely created, Rather than being from your lips.

Thus earnestly do I beg of you,My Sovereign, O Woman, my Maiden,That it be one of the esteemed gentry, ! one whose countenance is recognized, ! whose countenance is revered,And who himself is held in honor:Let it be on him that you enjoin it,Let it be he that bears it, that carries it, This utterance, this declaration of yours,That it be believed.

For I indeed am pitiably poor,For I am harness, for I am hod,For I am all haunches, all elbows,For I am of the dispossessed,For I am pack carrier

For it is not mine to exist there, For it is not mine to set foot there, Where you bid me to go.

My Maiden, my littlest one, my lady, O Woman,Please do grant me pardonThat I be troublingYour countenance, your heart,That I be stepping, that I be stumblingInto your frowning annoyance, Into your rightful wrath, My lady, 0 my Sovereign!"

And the wondrous Ever Virgin made answer:

"Do listen to this my littlest one, And let your heart be assured,

That it is not to the wealthy ones among my stewards, my commissioners, that I am wont to leave itThat they should bearMy utterances, my declarations,Or that they should realize my wishes.

Thus rather is it necessaryThat it be you yourself who live this through, Who act as spokesman on this matter, and that it be by your handThat it be realized, that it be done,This will, this wish of mine.

And so well may I beg of you, my littlest one,And strongly do I bid you, that once more, on the morrow,You go, you go and visit the bishop.

On my behalf let him know,Let him listen well,How it is my will and my wish that he realize, That he make, the temple for which I am asking.

And indeed say to him once more how it is I myself,The Ever Virgin Saint Mary, Mother of God,Who am commissioning you."

So Juan Diego made answer and told her:

"My sovereign, O woman, my maid,Let me not troubleYour countenance, your heart,

For indeed with all my own heartI shall go, I shall go and realize your utterance, your declaration.

By no means shall I leave it asideOr reckon the road laboriour;I shall go, I shall go and do your will"-

Though I well may not be listened to in goodly mood, And even if I am listened to, I may not be believed.

Morrow then, in the afternoon,When the sun is entering its home,I shall come and bring backYour utterance, your declaration,With whatever the priestly chieftainShall have answered me.

And now I beg to take leave of you, My littlest one, my maiden, Milady, O woman. Do, then, rest yourself a little."

And forthwith home went heAnd took his own rest.

On the morrow, the Sunday, While it was still quite dark, (darkness thick around him), Forth he sallied from his homeAnd straight he headed for Tlaltilolco,

There to learn the things divineAnd to be counted on the rollAnd, after that, to visit the priestly chieftain.

Thus, around ten o'clock,Preparation was madeAnd mass was heard:Thereafter the roll was counted,And all the indians dispersed hither and yon.

As for Juan Diego himself,He immediately went to the palace of the lord bishop. When he reached it,He made every effort to get to see himAnd did, after much difficulty, get so to see him.

Knelt at his feet, weeping and sad, to call to his attention And present to him the utterance, the declaration of the heavenly woman,So that the commission, ! The wish of the Ever Virgin might be believed

And that they undertake to build, ! Undertake to erect her temple,There where she had indicated, ! Where she had wished.

But full many a topicDid the lord bishopAsk and inquire aboutBefore his heart could settle itself:

Where it had been that he had seen her, and after what manner.All of which Juan Diego proved well able to recount to him in full

Yet, though he could keep every detail straight as to the form takenAnd as to all he had seen,All he had marveled at,And as to how it was indeed the Ever Virgin who had appeared to him, that wondrous dear MotherOf Our Redeemer, Our Lord Jesus Christ,

Even so did the bishop make of itSomething less than the truth,Asserting to himThat his mere word, his mere asking,Was not enough for the doing, the realizing of what he was asking for.

Because there was indeed needOf something of a signalThat he might be properly believedIn regard to how it was the heavenly woman herself who had commissioned him.

When Juan Diego heard this, He addressed the bishop:

Sir chieftain, Let us see to it: Of what kind shall it be, This signal you are asking for? Forthwith I shall go, I shall go and request it Of the heavenly woman Who commissioned me hither

The bishop, however, seeing how He was treating it as the truth And was not at all embarrassed or taken aback,Simply sent him along.

However, once he was gone,He immediately gave ordersTo some of his household,In whom he had personal trust,That they should follow along behind him

And should keep on the lookout as to where he wentAnd whom he saw and accosted.This, then, was done.

As for Juan Diego,He immediately headed straight offTo follow the road of return, Whilst they were following along behind him.

Then, where the causeway begins,In the neighborhood of Tepeyac, And there is the wooden bridge, they lost him:Though they searched everywhere,Nowhere did they see him.

Thus they merely turned back again,Not only because they were intensely eary of it all,But also because he had embarrassed them,And had kindled their wrath.

Thus they went and called it to the attention of the lord bishopAnd would have dissuaded him from believing him.They he was only deceivingand deliberately lyingIn whatever he had been there to assert,

Or else that he had been merely dreaming And was barely awoken from sleepIn whatever he had been there to request.

Moreover, they told himThat if he ever came along again and returned, There and then they would seize himAnd sternly chastise him,That he never again tell lies, tongue-in-cheek like that.

In the morrow, the Monday,When Juan Diego was to have carried something of a signalThat he might be believed,He did not in fact return again.

For when he had reached homeThere had been an uncle of his,Named Juan Bernardino,Upon whom the pestilence had lighted,And it was indeed worsening.

He had been to call in the physician,Taking such action as he could,But tire had been against themAnd things had worsened indeed.

While it was still darkHis uncle had begged himThat, at dawn, when the dark would be clearing,He should sally forth to TlaltilolcoGoing to call in one of the priestsThat he come over to hear his confessionAnd to prepare him.

For his heart was assuredThat the time was now ripe for him to dieAnd that he would never again be getting up,Never healing up again.

Thus on the Tuesday,While it was still quite dark all around,Juan Diego sallied forth from his homeTo call in a priestFrom over at TlatilolcoJust as he was arriving In the neighborhood of the hillock of Tepeyac, At its foot, Where the road leads off On the side of the homing sun, Where he had previously been wont to travel, This is what he was thinking:

If I simply go straight along the road, It will be in vain, For the woman will catch sight of me

And will again come and detain me For me to carry something of a signal To the priestly chieftain: As he has given me orders to do.

Ah! let us first be rid of our trouble Ah! let me first go and call in the mendicant priest For my uncle is surely awaiting him!

So he forthwith detoured around the hill.Climbing up the ravine on the other slope, On the side of the sallying sun.He went and traveled this waySo as to reach México City more promptlyBy not having the heavenly woman detain him.

Her he spotted, however;For down his way she was coming,From the top of the hillock,From which she had been gazing on him all alongAnd upon which he had earlier been wont to see her.

There she came and intercepted him there, On the flank of the hill, she came and halted him.

She addressed him:

"So, my littlest one, whither are you going? Whom are you off to see?"

And himselfWill he not be a little embarrassed? Will he not be perhaps abashed? Will he not be perhaps shocked? Filled with awe?

Before her countenance he prostrates himself and salutes her.He addresses her:

My littlest one, 0 woman, my maiden,Contentment be yours!

How has felt the dawn upon your countenance? How feels the health within your lovely flesh? My Sovereign, My Bairn!

I shall be troubling your countenance, your heart, But do take cognizance, O My Maiden,That there is someone very sick;

To yourself, a mere vassal,To me, an uncle.

A great pestilence has lighted upon him And presently he shall be dying of it.

Even now I am making hasteTo your dwelling in México;I shall summon one of those dear to our Sovereign, One of our priests,That he come to hear his confession,Come to prepare him.

For indeed, from when we are born we have to be on the watchFor the travail of our death.

But once I have realized this task,I shall then head back here againAnd shall go and shall bearYour utterance, your declaration, milady, my maiden.

But do pardon me,And bear with me in all patience, for I am not deceiving you,My littlest one, my bairn.

No, tomorrow l shall be backAnd shall sally forth with speed!"

When she had listened to this declaration of Juan Diego's,The compassionate Ever Virgin made reply:

"Do listen,Do be assured of it in your heart,

My littlest one,That nothing at all should alarm you,Should trouble you,Nor in any way disturbYour countenance, your heart.

And do not be afraid of this pestilence, And of any other pestilence nor any rasping hardship.For am I not here,I, your mother? Are you not in the cool of my shadow? The breeziness of my shade? Is it not I that amYour source of contentment?

Are you not cradled in my mantle? Cuddled in the crossing of my arms?Is there anything else for you to need?

Nothing else, though, should trouble you,Should disquiet you.And do not let it trouble you,This pestilence of your uncle's,For he is not going to die of it now.

Do be assured of it in your heartThat he has already healed up."

(And it was indeed that his uncle did heal up, as later came to be known.)

While Juan Diego was listeningTo this utterance, this declaration of the heavenly woman,Was greatly heartened,His heart well content.

So he begged of her That she now commission him to go and see the lord bishopAnd to bear him something of a signal As a proof whereby to believe in him.

The heavenly woman immediately bade himClimb up to the top of the hillock,Where she had earlier been revealing herself.

She told him;

"Climb up, my littlest one,To the top of the hillock, There where you saw me earlier and I gave you orders.

There you will now see a variety of flowers: Pick them, gather them,Bundle them, bring them down,Carrying them here to my presence."

So Juan Diego immediately wentAnd climbed to the top of the hillock,And, on reaching the top,He greatly marveledAt all the blossoming,All the burgeoningOf varied castilian garden flowers.In what was neither the season nor site for them.

For this was when the frost is severe!Yet remarkably fragrant they were,With nocturnal dewdrops like precious pearls.

Immediately he began to pick them: Full many of them he gatheredAnd put into the fold of his mantle.

Now that top of a hillockWas by no means a spot for flowers to grow,For it was all rocks, all spikes, all thorns, All prickles, all brambles;

And if ever some weedy old plant did grow there, This was now the month of december,In which the frost consumes everything,

Makes everything perish.

Down he came, then,Bearing to the heavenly womanThe varied flowers he had picked.She in turn, upon inspecting them,Took them up in her own handsAnd again delicately replaced themIn the fold of his mantle.

She addressed him:

"My littlest one, These varied flowers are themselves the proof, the sign,You are to carry to the bishop.

You are to say to him on my behalf That in them he should see My wish, my will.

And as for yourself,You, my trusty commissioner,I strongly bid you that only in front of the bishop Should you unwrap your tilma And show what you are carrying.

You shall recount to him in full And tell him How I bade you Climb to the top of the hillock And go about picking these flowers; Tell him all you have seen and wondered at,

That thus you may lift up the heart of the priestly chieftain So that he act the spokesman For the building and erection of my temple, As I have been requesting of him."

So when the heavenly woman

Had thus given him her biddingOff he went and followed the road of return into México City,

Heading straight along it with contented stride, Striding with heart assuredOf the goodly outcome of so goodly a burden,

And yet striding with full careFor what was in the fold of his mantle, Lest any of it tumble out as he strode.

Still, amid his striding he gloriedIn the fragrance of those varied garden flowers.

When he reached the palace of the bishop There came out to meet himThe housekeepers and sundry domestics of the chieftain priest.

So he begged them to tell himOf how he wished to get to see himNot one of them, however, was willing to,And all made as if they did not wish to hear him.

This, may have been because it was still rather dark Or else because they recognized him and he merely troubled themBy his importunate hanging around.

Moreover, their friends had called to their attention How they had gone and lost himWhen they had been following along behind him.

So for quite some delayHe stood there, waiting for some word.But when they saw how long he had been waiting, Standing there on his feet and stooped over,Quite idle,Just waiting to be summoned,

And how, it seemed, he had brought some object folded in his mantle,They did finally come up to him

To get a look at what he might be carrying, Just to satisfy their hearts in passing.

Thus, when Juan Diego had seenThat he could scarcely hide from them what he was carrying,For they were now hard-pressing him, Shoving him about and manhandling him,

He did let them glimpse that it was flowers.

When they thus saw that it was lots of varied castilian flowers And that it was not then the season for them to grow,They greatly marveled at that,

And also at how fresh they wereAnd how bloomingAnd how fragrantAnd how wonderful.

They desired to snatch a few of themAnd to grab them for themselves,Three times over did they try to do this, but in their attempts at graspingThey could not manage at all.

For as soon as they would take hold of themIt would no longer be flowers they were seeing But, as it were, a painting or an embroideryOr something sewn on to the tilma,For them to see.

Thereupon they did go and announceto the lord bishop what they had seenAnd that the indian was wishing to visit him,The one who had come along so many times,And that there had already been a long delayIn his waiting for wordAbout this desire to visit him.

As soon as the bishop heard tell of this He immediately knew in his heart that this was the proof whereby his heart was to reach certainty so that he could bring to realization

What the little fellow had been soliciting.

He then gave orders to have him enter forthwith so as to visit him.

So he enteredAnd prostrated himself in the presence, As he had previously done.Once again he recounted all that he had seen and marvelled atAnd all about his commissioning.

He addressed him:

My lord chieftain, I have now done,I have realizedWhat you gave me orders to do,

Namely, I have been to tell that person, Madame, the Heavenly Woman,Holy Mary, the dear Mother of God,

That you had asked of herSomething of a signalFor you to be able to believe in meAnd so to build her templeThere where she had requested it of you That you erect it for her.

Moreover, I had told her clearlyThat I had given you my wordThat I would bring back to youSome such signalAs a proof of her wish,For you had left it thus in my hands.

When she heard tellOf this utterance, this declaration of yours, She received it contentedlyThat you should be askingSomething of a signal, a proof,So that her wish might be done and realized.

And just now, while it was still quite dark, When she was giving me ordersTo come again to visit you,I requested of herThis something of a signalFor me to be believed,Just as she had told me she would be giving me.

And forthwith she put it into realization, Sending me to the top of the hillock,Where I had earlier been wont to see her:I was to go and pick varied castilian flowers.

All the while I well knewThat that was not a site for flowers, There on the top of the hillock, For it was all rocks, all spikes, all thorn bush, All prickly, all brambles.

Not that I was taken aback!Not that I wavered!No, I reached the top of that hillock and I gazed uponWhat had become a land of the flowers bloom,Wherein were united each and every kindOf the garden flowers of castile,With the sun gleaming on their dewdrops.

And so I went ahead and picked them.

She told me to give them to you on her behalfSo that, through them, I might bring aboutYour seeing in them the signal you had requested In order for you to bring her wish to realization, And so that the truth of my own word,My own commission,Might be apparent.

Yes, here they are!Do but deign to receive them!

Just as he was unwrapping that white tilma of his In which had lain folded those flowers,So as to strew them forth,Flowers in all their castilian variety,

Suddenly, upon that tilma,There flashed a portrait,There sallied into view a sacred image Of that Ever Virgin Holy Mary,Mother of God,

In the likeness it even now retainsWhere, even now, it is so reverently kept, Over at her sacred dwelling,At her temple entitled Guadalupe.

Thus the lord bishopAnd all who were with him thereCould see, each for himself,And all of them did kneelAnd greatly wondered.

They rose once more to gaze, Saddened and blaming themselves, Their hearts and thoughts aloft.

The lord bishop,Weeping and saddened,Begged and entreated to be forgivenFor not having earlier realized her wish, Her utterance, her declaration.

Upon his rising,He undid the garment, the tilma,From Juan Diego's neck,To which it had been tied.

On it she had appeared,Upon it she had portrayed herself,

She the heavenly woman.

And so, reverently carrying it,He came and established it in his oratory.

Thus Juan Diego spent that whole day in the dwelling of the bishop,Who, of course, detained him.

On the morrow, the bishop said: "So now for you to let us seeWhere it is the wish of the Heavenly Woman That her temple be erected!

Immediately a multitude was summoned for its building, its erection.

As for Juan Diego,Once he had let them seeWhere the Heavenly Woman had bidden That her temple be erected, he immediately sought leave,

For he wished to get homeTo visit his uncle Juan Bernardino, the one who had been so sickWhen he had left him all aloneSo as to call in one of the priests from over at TlatilolcoTo hear his confessionAnd to prepare him,

And concerning whom the Heavenly Woman had said That he had already healed up.

But they would not let him go alone;They escorted him right to his home. Upon reaching it,They saw his uncleAnd how he had healed upAnd that he was no longer sick at all.

He too in turn marveled greatlyAt how his nephew was being escorted And being treated with such honor.

He inquired of his nephewWhy the likes of this was being done, This treatment of him with such honor.

So Juan Diego in turn told how,When he had set out to call in the priest To hear his confession and prepare him, There had, over at Tepeyac,Revealed herself to himA Heavenly Woman,One who had commissioned himTo go and see the lord bishop in México City, That he plight set up a house for herThere at Tepeyac,

And how she had also told him not to trouble himself Inasmuch as his uncle had already healed up,

And how he had been greatly heartened thereby.

His uncle said that it was indeed trueThat it had been then that he had healed up,And that she had revealed herself to him also,In exactly the same likenessIn which she had been revealing herself to the nephew,

And that she had told him moreoverHow she had commissioned him to México CityTo see the bishop, And that upon his going to see himHe would present to him and inform him, of what he had seen.

He also told how marvelously she had healed him,

And how she was entitling her sacred image--as indeed it ought to be entitled--The Ever Virgin Holy Mary of Guadalupe.

Forthwith they conducted Juan Bernardino Into the presence of the lord bishop for him to give information

And to testify before him.

Then, along with his nephew Juan Diego,They housed him in the bishop's home for a few days.

In the meanwhile, a temple was being erected for the Sovereign WomanOver at Tepeyac, where she had revealed herself to Juan Diego.

The lord bishop transferred the sacred imageOf the dear Heavenly Woman Into the principal church, Removing it from the oratory within his palace, Where it had been standing. So that more people could see and marvel at the sacred image.

For indeed this whole city, one and all was astirAnd was visiting and marvelingAt her Sacred Image,Doing it homage and making prayers before it.

Greatly did they marvelAt how divinely miraculously it had appeared,

For it had not been any earthbound mortal who had paintedThat sacred representation.

Finish

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