Miracles of the Middle Ages

"It is you whom the little child names in the midst of his fears of the night: it is you again whom the trembling sailor invokes in the midst of the horrors of the storm.
The poor woman comes to deposit in your august bosom her tears scorned by the world; it is to you, Blessed Virgin, that she comes to entrust the pains of her immortal soul.
To you who accept with kindness the sorrows and complaints, to you who, like the world, does not make a choice between the tears of the little ones and the tears of the great ones. "