There is an awful lot to be said for paintings in reproduction, which is how most of us encounter art, at least to begin with. I met Ernst Gombrich, the great art historian, once; he recalled that when he was growing up in Vienna everyone had reproductions of great art in their homes: it meant you encountered the great works.

Farm Street Church in London has an admirable little exhibition for the month of May, Mary’s month, which it has put on display outside the parish offices. There are 24 images of the life of the Virgin, taken from the National Gallery in London. Pilgrim of Hope was planned and produced by the monks in Quarr Abbey on the Isle of Wight, which is under the patronage of the Virgin. There is an admirable introduction to the selection by Sir Gabriele Finaldi, the director of the National Gallery, and a Catholic whose faith illumines his work.

As he says: “Every artist seeks to plumb the depths of the Virgin Mary’s beautiful, mysterious and paradoxical nature… Each artist paints her differently and yet she is always recognisable. Lapis Lazuli blue signifies her royal and heavenly nature; 12 stars arrange themselves naturally to form a halo for her; kings and shepherds come to pay her homage… Please admire the paintings, admire and meditate and pray. The artists represented here will bring the Queen of Heaven closer to you.”

And indeed the selection takes us meditatively through the life of the Virgin. We encounter first The Immaculate Conception by Diego Velázquez, with the Virgin standing crowned with stars, with the moon under her feet, like the description of the woman with child in the Book of Revelation; it is a meditative image, Mary’s eyes downcast.

There follow in sequence the events of the Virgin’s life – her birth, the Annunciation (a lovely picture by Fr Filippo Lippi), the Visitation and then the events of Christ’s life, Passion and Resurrection: a combination of the Gospel accounts and the events commemorated in the rosary. The unexpected item is from the school of Rogier van der Weyden, showing the risen Christ appearing to his mother; she is, as at the Annunciation, reading from scripture, only this time as an old woman. It is an apocryphal event, for it was to Mary Magdalene and the women that Christ appeared, but it is a devout reflection on the Resurrection. The Virgin is seated in a comfortable Flemish home, with the empty tomb visible from a window; startled at the appearance of Christ, she raises her hands.

Perhaps the most moving image is that of the Mater Dolorosa, the Mother of Sorrows, from the 15th-century workshop of Dirk Bouts; it shows the Virgin with tears on her cheeks, her eyes worn with crying. It is a simple depiction of grief, but vivid and striking. The Deposition, by the Master of the St Bartholomew Altarpiece, is 15th century too, and it is an unfortgettable image of death and grief. There is the extraordinary, contorted position of the man holding the arms of Christ on the Cross, clambering between cross and ladder, and there is the sheer weight of the body being held up by his friend; next to the wounded feet, the Virgin is insensible and physicall supported by St John.

But the images are happy as well as sad; the gracious Coronation of the Virgin by the 14th-century Agnolo Gaddi, with Christ and his mother in identical dress, is a depiction of measured joy.

Of course, the National Gallery is only a walk away from Farm Street Church, but there is a reason for contemplating the works in reproduction here rather than in their full glory there. A gallery may be a reverent place, but it is not a space for devout and prayerful contemplation. This is an opportunity to see these paintings as works of devotion, as they were originally intended.