A Poor Brother's Hymnal
Thursday, March 02, 2006
  Stabat Mater: At the Cross Her Station Keeping

English
1. At the cross her station keeping,
Stood the mournful Mother weeping,
Close to Jesus to the last.

2. Through her heart, His sorrow sharing,
All His bitter anguish bearing,
Now at length the sword had pass'd.

3. Oh, how sad and sore distress'd
Was that Mother highly blest
Of the sole-begotten One!

4. Christ above in torment hangs;
She beneath beholds the pangs
Of her dying glorious Son.

5. Is there one who would not weep,
Whelm'd in miseries so deep
Christ's dear Mother to behold?

6. Can the human heart refrain
From partaking in her pain,
In that Mother's pain untold?

7. Bruis'd, derided, curs'd, defil'd,
She beheld her tender child
All with bloody scourges rent.

8. For the sins of His own nation,
Saw Him hang in desolation,
Till His spirit forth He sent.

9. O thou Mother! fount of love!
Touch my spirit from above;
Make my heart with thine accord.

10. Make me feel as thou hast felt;
Make my soul to glow and melt
With the love of Christ our Lord.

11. Holy Mother! pierce me through;
In my heart each wound renew
Of my Saviour crucified.

12. Let me share with thee His pain,
Who for all my sins was slain,
Who for me in torments died.

13. Let me mingle tears with thee,
Mourning Him who mourn'd for me,
All the days that I may live.

14. By the cross with thee to stay,
There with thee to weep and pray,
Is all I ask of thee to give.

15. Virgin of all virgins best,
Listen to my fond request
Let me share thy grief divine.

16. Let me, to my latest breath,
In my body bear the death
Of that dying Son of thine.

17. Wounded with His every wound,
Steep my soul till it hath swoon'd
In His very blood away.

18. Be to me, O Virgin, nigh,
Lest in flames I burn and die,
In His awful Judgment day.

19. Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence,
Be Thy Mother my defence,
Be Thy cross my victory.

20. While my body here decays,
May my soul Thy goodness praise,
Safe in Paradise with Thee.

Amen.


Latin
1. Stabat mater dolorosa
juxta Crucem lacrimosa,
dum pendebat Filius.

2. Cuyus animam gementem,
contristatam et dolentem,
pertransivit gladius.

3. O quam tristis et afflicta
fuit illa benedicta
Mater Unigeniti.

4. Quae moerebat et dolebat,
Pia Mater cum videbat
Nati poenas incliti.

5. Quis est homo qui non fleret,
Matrem Christi si videret
in tanto supplicio?

6. Quis non posset contristari,
Christi Matrem contemplari
dolentem cum Filio?

7. Pro peccatis suae gentis
vidit Jesum in tormentis
et flagellis subditum.

8. Vidit suum dulcem natum
moriendo desolatum,
dum emisit spiritum.

9. Eia Mater, fons amoris,
me sentire vim doloris
fac, ut tecum lugeam.

10. Fac ut ardeat cor meum
in amando Christum Deum,
ut sibi complaceam.

11. Sancta mater, istud agas,
crucifixi fige plagas
cordi meo valide.

12. Tui nati vulnerati,
tam dignati pro me pati,
poenas mecum divide.

13. Fac me tecum pie flere,
crucifixo condolere,
donec ego vixero.

14. Iuxta crucem tecum stare,
et me tibi sociare
in planctu desidero.

15. Virgo virginum praeclara,
mihi iam non sis amara:
fac me tecum plangere.

16. Fac ut portem Christi mortem,
passionis fac consortem,
et plagas recolere.

17. Fac me plagis vulnerari,
fac me cruce inebriari,
et cruore Filii.

18. Flammis ne urar succensus
per te Virgo, sim defensus
in die judicii

19. Christe, cum sit hinc exire,
da per matrem me venire
ad palmam victoriae.

20. Quando corpus morietur,
fac ut animae donetur
Paradisi gloria.

Amen.

ي قلبي منطبـــــعة

Oh Blessed Holy Mother,
make the wounds of thy only son,
unto my heart imprinted.


Mother bowed with grief appalling must thou watch, with tears slow falling, on the cross Thy dying son!
Through my heart, thus sorrow riven, must that cruel sword be driven, as foretold - O Holy One!
Oh, how mournful and oppressed was that Mother ever-blessed, Mother of the Spotless One:
She, whose grieving was perceiving, contemplating, unabating, all the anguish of her Son!
Is there any, tears withholding, Christ's dear Mother thus beholding, in woe - like no other woe!
Who that would not grief be feeling for that Holy Mother kneeling - what suffering was ever so?
For the sins of every nation she beheld his tribulation, given to scourgers for a prey:
Saw her Jesus foully taken, languishing, by all forsaken, when his spirit passed away.
Love's sweet fountain, Mother tender, haste this hard heart, soft to render, make me sharer in Thy pain.
Fire me now with zeal so glowing, love so rich to Jesus, flowing, that I favor may obtain.
Holy Mother, I implore Thee, crucify this heart before Thee, guilty it is verily!
Hate, misprision, scorn, derision, thirst assailing, failing vision, railing, ailing, deal to me.
In Thy keeping, watching, weeping, by the cross may I unsleeping live and sorrow for his sake.
Close to Jesus, with Thee kneeling, all Thy dolours with Thee feeling, oh grant this - the prayer I make.
Maid immaculate, excelling, peerless one, in heav'n high dwelling, make me truly mourn with Thee.
Make me sighing hear Him dying, ever newly vivifying the anguish He bore for me.
With the same scar lacerated, by the cross enfired, elated, wrought by love to ecstasy!
Thus inspired and affected let me, Virgin, be protected when sounds forth the call for me!
May his sacred cross defend me, he who died there so befriend me, that His pardon shall suffice.
When this earthly frame is riven, grant that to my soul is given all the joys of Paradise!

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