Page:The seven great hymns of the mediaeval church - 1902.djvu/143

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Who the man, who, called a brother,

Would not weep, aw he Chrit's mother

In uch deep ditrefs and wild?

Who could not fad tribute render

Witneing that mother tender

Agonizing with her child?

For His people's fins atoning,

Him he aw in torments groaning,

Given to the courger's rod;

Saw her darling offspring dying,

Deolate, foraken, crying,

Yield His pirit up to God.

Make me feel thy forrow's power,

That with thee I tears may hower,

Tender mother, fount of love!

Make my heart with love unceafing

Burn toward Chrit the Lord, that pleaing

I may be to Him above.