At the Cross her station keeping, <br />stood the mournful Mother weeping, <br />close to Jesus to the last. <br /><br />Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, <br />all His bitter anguish bearing, <br />now at length the sword has passed. <br /><br />O how sad and sore distressed <br />was that Mother, highly blest, <br />of the sole-begotten One. <br /><br />Christ above in torment hangs, <br />she beneath beholds the pangs <br />of her dying glorious Son. <br /><br />Is there one who would not weep, <br />whelmed in miseries so deep, <br />Christ's dear Mother to behold? <br /><br />By the Cross with thee to stay, <br />there with thee to weep and pray, <br />is all I ask of thee to give. <br /><br />For the sins of His own nation, <br />She saw Jesus wracked with torment, <br />All with scourges rent: <br /><br />She beheld her tender Child, <br />Saw Him hang in desolation, <br />Till His spirit forth He sent. <br /><br />Can the human heart refrain <br />from partaking in her pain, <br />in that Mother's pain untold? <br /><br />O thou Mother! fount of love! <br />Touch my spirit from above, <br />make my heart with thine accord: <br /><br />Make me feel as thou hast felt; <br />make my soul to glow and melt <br />with the love of Christ my Lord. <br /><br />Holy Mother! pierce me through, <br />in my heart each wound renew <br />of my Savior crucified: <br /><br />Let me share with thee His pain, <br />who for all my sins was slain, <br />who for me in torments died. <br /><br />Let me mingle tears with thee, <br />mourning Him who mourned for me, <br />all the days that I may live: <br /><br />Let me, to my latest breath, <br />in my body bear the death <br />of that dying Son of thine. <br /><br />Virgin of all virgins blest!, <br />Listen to my fond request: <br />let me share thy grief divine; <br /><br />Wounded with His every wound, <br />steep my soul till it hath swooned, <br />in His very Blood away; <br /><br />Be to me, O Virgin, nigh, <br />lest in flames I burn and die, <br />in His awful Judgment Day. <br /><br />Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence, <br />by Thy Mother my defense, <br />by Thy Cross my victory; <br /><br />When my body dies, <br />let my soul be granted <br />the glory of Paradise. <br /><br />Amen. <br /><br />a Fenice
