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
Now at length the sword has passed
Oh how sad and sore distressed
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
Is there one who would not weep
Whelmed in miseries so deep
Christ’s dear Mother to behold
Can the human heart refrain
From partaking in her pain
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 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 grow and melt
With the love of Christ our Lord
Holy Mother! pierce me through
In my hear 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 mourned 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 blest
Listen to my fond request
Let me share thy grief divine
Let me to my latest breath
In my body bear the death
Of that dying Son of thine
Wounded with His every wound
Steep my soul till it hath swooned
In His very Blood away
Be to me, O Virgin nigh
Lest in flames I burn and die
In His awful judgement day
Christ, when thou shall 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. Amen
— translation of the great Latin hymn