At the Cross her station keeping,
Stood a mournful Mother weeping,
Close to Jesus to the last.
Christ above in torment hangs,
She beneath behold the pangs
Of her dying, glorious Son.
Is there one who would not weep,
'Whelmed in miseries so deep
Christ's dear Mother to behold?
Can the human heart refrain
From partaking in her pain,
In that mother's pain untold?
Bruised, derided, cursed, defiled,
She beheld her tender Child,
All with bloody scourges rent.
O dear Mother, fount of love,
Touch my spirit from above;
Make my heart with yours accord.
Make me feel as you have felt;
Make my soul to glow and melt
With the love of Christ, my Lord.
Holy Mother, pierce me through;
In my heart each wound renew
Of my Savior crucified.
Let me share with you His pain,
Who for all our sins was slain,
Who for me in torments died.
Let me mingle tears with thee,
Mourning Him Who mourned for me,
All the days that I may live.
By the cross with you to stay
There with you to weep and pray,
This I ask of you to give.
Virgin of all virgins blest,
Listen to my fond request;
Let me share your grief divine.
Let me to my final breath,
In my body bear the death
Of that dying Son of thine.
Wounded with his ev'ry wound,
Steep my soul till it has swooned
In His very blood away.
Be to me, O Virgin, nigh,
Lest in flames I burn and die
In His awful dudgement day.
Christ, when You shall call me hence,
Be your Mother my defense;
Be You cross my victory.
While my body here decays,
May my soul Your goodness praise,
Safe in heaven eternally. Amen
