in that Mother’s pain untold?
Bruised, derided, cursed, defiled,
she beheld her tender Child
All with bloody scourges rent.
For the sins of His own nation,
saw Him hang in desolation,
Till His spirit forth He sent.
O sweet Mother! fount of love!
Touch my spirit from above,
make my heart with thine accord.
Make me feel as thou hast felt;
make my soul to glow and melt
with the love of Christ, my Lord.
–– Stabat Mater