Page:The Catholic prayer book.djvu/431



Y the  Cross,  on  which  suspended. With his  bleeding  hands  extended, Hung that  Son  she  so  adored, Stood the  mournful  Mother  weeping, She whose  heart,  its  silence  keeping, Grief had  cleft  as  with  a sword.

Oh! the Mother’s  sad  affliction — Mother of  all  benediction — Of the  sole-begotten  One! Oh, the  grieving,  sense-bereaving Of her  heaving  breast  perceiving The dread  sufferings  of  her  Son!

What man  is  there  so  unfeeling Who, his  heart  to  pity  steeling, Could behold  that  sight  unmoved? Could Christ’s  Mother  see  there  weeping, See the  pious  Mother  keeping Vigil by  the  Son  she  loved.

For His  people’s  sins  atoning, She saw  Jesus  writhing,  groaning, ’Neath the  scourge  wherewith  He  bled; Saw her  loved  one,  her  Consoler, Dying in  His  dreadful  dolor. Till at  length  His  spirit  fled.

O thou Mother  of  election! Fountain of  all  pure  affection! Make thy  grief,  thy  pain,  my  own; Make my  heart  to  God  returning, In the  love  of  Jesus  burning, Feel the  fire  that  thine  has  known.