| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
By the cross her station keeping,
still the mournful mother, weeping,
watched beside the dying Lord;
for her soul, of joy bereaved,
worn with sorrow, deeply grieved,
felt the sharp and piercing sword.
O how sad and sore distressed
now was she, the mother blessed
of the high, Eternal One!
O how bitter her affliction,
there to see the crucifixion
of her own most glorious Son.
Who, with Christ's fond mother gazing,
on that anguish so amazing,
born of woman, would not weep?
Who, on Christ's fond mother thinking,
such a cup of sorrow drinking,
would not share her sorrows deep?
For his people's sins chastised,
there she saw her Son despised,
saw the thorns his temples bind ;
saw him next from judgment taken,
then in death by all forsaken,
till his spirit he resigned.
Jesus, Lord! may such devotion
stir in us the same emotion,
fount of Love, Redeemer blest;
that our hearts, fresh ardor gaining,
and a higher love attaining,
may on Thee for ever rest.
Latin, attributed to Jacopone da Todi (d. 1306); trans. (1-1848), probably adapted by the editors of
D