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 O may  the  wounds  of  thy  dear  Son Our contrite  hearts  possess  alone, And all  terrene  affections  drown.

Those wounds,  which  now  the  stars  outshine, Those furnaces  of  love  divine. May they  our  drossy  souls  refine;

And on  us  such  impressions  make, That we  of  suffering  for  his  sake, May joyfully  our  portion  take.

Let us  his  proper  badge  put  on, Let's glory  in  the  cross  alone, By which  he  marks  us  for  his  own.

That when  the  dreadful  trial's  come, For every  man  to  hear  his  doom, On his  right  hand  we  may  find  room.

O hear  us  Mary,  Jesus  hear! Our humble  pray'rs  secure  our  fear, When thou  in  judgment  shalt  appear.

Now give  us  sorrow,  give  us  love, That so  prepared,  we  may  remove, When call'd  to  seats  Of  bliss  above. ''Amen. ''

V. The  sword  of  sorrow  has  pierced  thy  soul.

R. That  out  of  many  hearts  cogitations  may  be  revealed.

E beseech  thee  O  Lord  Jesus  Christ! that the blessed Virgin  Mary  may  effectually  intercede for us  with  thy  clemency,  both  now,  and  at  the  hour of our  death. She, who  at  the  hour  of  thy passion,  had her most  holy  soul  run  through  with  the  sword  of   sorrow;  who  lives and  reignest  with  the  Father, and  the Holy Ghost,  one  God,  world  without  end. ''Amen.