At the cross her station keeping

iuxta Crucem lacrimosa,
dum pendebat Filius.
Cuius animam gementem,
contristatam et dolentem
pertransivit gladius.

fuit illa benedicta,
mater Unigeniti!
Quae maerebat et dolebat,
pia Mater, dum videbat
nati poenas inclyti.

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.

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.

stood the mournful mother weeping,
where he hung, the dying Lord:
for her soul, of joy bereavèd,
bowed with anguish, deeply grievèd,
felt the sharp and piercing sword.

now was she, that mother blessed
of the sole-begotten One.
Deep the woe of her affliction,
when she saw the crucifixion
of her ever-glorious Son.

stood the mournful mother weeping,
close to Jesus to the last,
through her soul of joy bereavèd,
bowed with anguish, deeply grievèd,
now at length the sword hath passed.

blessèd mother, blessèd Maiden,
mother of the all-holy One;
O that silent, ceaseless mourning,
O those dim eyes, never turning
from that wondrous, suffering Son.

matrem Christi si videret
in tanto supplicio?
Quis non posset contristari
Christi Matrem contemplari
dolentem cum Filio?

vidit Iesum in tormentis,
et flagellis subditum.
Vidit suum dulcem Natum
moriendo desolatum,
dum emisit spiritum.

whelmed in miseries so deep,
Christ's dear mother to behold?
By the cross with thee to stay,
there with thee to weep and pray,
is all I ask of thee to give.

she saw Jesus wracked with torment,
all with scourges rent:
She beheld her tender child,
saw him hang in desolation,
till his spirit forth he sent.

pierced by anguish 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 sorrows deep?

she beheld her Son despised,
scourged, and crowned with thorns entwined;
saw him then from judgment taken,
and in death by all forsaken,
till his spirit he resigned.

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?

there she saw the victim languish,
bleed in torments, bleed and die:
saw the Lord’s anointed taken,
saw her child in death forsaken,
heard his last expiring cry.

me sentire vim doloris
fac, ut tecum lugeam.
Fac, ut ardeat cor meum
in amando Christum Deum
ut sibi complaceam.

crucifixi fige plagas
cordi meo valide.
Tui Nati vulnerati,
tam dignati pro me pati,
poenas mecum divide.

from partaking in her pain,
in that mother's pain untold?
O thou mother! Fount of love!
Touch my spirit from above,
make my heart with thine accord:

make my soul to glow and melt
with the love of Christ my Lord.
Holy mother! pierce me through,
in my heart each wound renew
of my Savior crucified.

something of thy Mother's sorrow,
Fount of love, Redeemer kind;
that my heart fresh ardor gaining,
and a purer love attaining,
may with thee acceptance find.

be my sinful soul partaker,
may I bear with her my part;
of his passion bear the token,
in a spirit bowed and broken
bear his death within my heart.

crucifixo condolere,
donec ego vixero.
Iuxta Crucem tecum stare,
et me tibi sociare
in planctu desidero.

mihi iam non sis amara,
fac me tecum plangere.
Fac, ut portem Christi mortem,
passionis fac consortem,
et plagas recolere.

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.

in my body bear the death
of that dying Son of thine.
Virgin of all virgins blest!
Listen to my fond request:
let me share thy grief divine.

he enkindle, cleanse, anneal me,
be his cross my hope and stay.
May he, when the mountains quiver,
from that flame which burns for ever
shield me on the judgment day.

fac me Cruce inebriari,
et cruore Filii.
Flammis ne urar succensus,
per te, Virgo, sim defensus
in die iudicii.

da per Matrem me venire
ad palmam victoriae.
Quando corpus morietur,
fac, ut animae donetur
paradisi gloria.

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 judgment day.

by thy mother my defense,
by thy cross my victory;
when my body dies,
let my soul be granted
the glory of paradise.

and thy saving death befriend me,
cherished by thy deathless grace;
when to dust my dust returneth,
grant a soul to that to thee yearneth
in thy paradise a place.