O quam tristis et afflicta Fuit illa benedicta Mater Unigeniti.Bonaventura, Jacopone da Todi, Pope John XXII, and Pope Gregory XI, and others; translated from Latin to English by Edward Caswall (1814-1878).It was the liturgical sequence for the Seven Sorrows of the Virgin (Sept.
Friday before Palm Sunday). It is no longer used on the Friday before Palm Sunday and is optional on September 15, but it continues to be sung at the Stations of the Cross during Lenten services. It was not admitted as a liturgical sequence until 1727, and musical settings are more numerous after that date. It is based upon the prophecy of Simeon that a sword was to pierce the heart of Our Lords mother, Mary (Lk2:35). Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, All His bitter anguish bearing, Now at length the sword had passd. Oh, how sad and sore distressd Was that Mother highly blest Of the sole-begotten One. Christ above in torment hangs; She beneath beholds the pangs Of her dying glorious Son. At The Cross Lyrics Hymn Series So DeepIs there one who would not weep, Whelmd in miseries so deep Christs dear Mother to behold. Can the human heart refrain From partaking in her pain, In that Mothers pain untold. Bruisd, derided, cursd, defild, 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 thou 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 our Lord. Holy Mother pierce me through; In my heart each wound renew Of my Saviour crucified. Let me share with thee His pain, Who for all my sins was slain, Who for me in torments died. Let me mingle tears with thee, Mourning Him who mournd for me, All the days that I may live. By the cross with thee to stay, There with thee to weep and pray, Is all I ask of thee to give. Virgin of all virgins best, Listen to my fond request Let me share thy grief divine. Wounded with His every wound, Steep my soul till it hath swoond In His very blood away. Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence, Be Thy Mother my defence, Be Thy cross my victory. While my body here decays, May my soul Thy goodness praise, Safe in Paradise with Thee.
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