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The Prayer Stabat Mater Dolorosa

At the Cross her station keeping
Stood the mournful Mother weeping,
Close to Jesus to the last.

Through her Heart, His sorrow sharing,
All His bitter anguish bearing,
Lo! the piercing sword had passed.

O how sad and sore distressed
Was that Mother, highly blessed,
Of the Sole-Begotten One.

Mournful, with Heart's prostration,
Mother meek, the bitter Passion
Saw She of Her glorious Son.

Who on Christ's dear Mother gazing,
In Her trouble so amazing,
Born of woman, would not weep?

Who on Christ's dear Mother thinking,
Such a cup of sorrow drinking,
Would not share Her sorrow deep?

For His people's sins rejected,
Saw Her Jesus unprotected.
Saw with thorns, with scourges rent.

Saw Her Son from judgement taken,
Her Beloved in death forsaken,
Till His Spirit forth He sent.

Fount of love and holy sorrow,
Mother, may my spirit borrow
Somewhat of your w