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 gin Mother, whose bitter tears cannot fail to stir the inmost recesses of thy heart, teach thee what mourning means. She who is now standing at the Cross's foot, pierced through with grievous sorrow, was only a few short years ago standing by a manger's side, her ears ringing with the music of the heavenly choir; she who is now tormented by the shrieking of the Jews, was but a short while since being comforted by the voices of Angels; she who is now clothed in a garment of mourning was not long ago being venerated by the Holy Kings. The lifeblood of that Son, Whose snow-white cheek was once pressed so fondly to her own, is now falling upon her drop by drop; she beholds, hanging between two thieves, Him Whom she has so often seen working mighty wonders in the midst of the people. She sees, made like to a leper by the loathsomeness of His Wounds, Him by the touch of Whose Hand she has seen full many a leper cleansed. She has before her eyes, racked with pain of every kind. Him, Who used to heal of every disease those who were sick. She beholds, given over to death, that Son at Whose word dead Lazarus came back to life. All that was pleasant in Him is now turned to sadness, all that was sweet in Him is now turned to bitterness. With such a tempest of evils is the bright-shining Star of the Sea surrounded; but a mind fixed steadfastly upon God is not to be overcome by the wickedness of men. She stands therefore at the Cross's foot, constant, and faithful, patient, and loving; not heeding those who threaten her with death; not shrinking from the insults of those who heap curses upon her. She bears it all calmly, and strives to follow the example of her Son's humility in making no