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MARY, THE MOTHER OF JESUS.
By the cross, sad vigil keeping,
O how sad and sore distressed
Now was she, that Mother blessed
Who, on Christ's fond Mother looking, Such extreme affliction brooking,
Born of woman, would not weep? Who on Christ's fond mother thinking,
Would not share her sorrows deep?
For His people's sins rejected,
Saw with thorns, with scourges rent ;
Till His Spirit forth He sent.
With Thy Mother's deep devotion,
Fount of love, Redeemer kind!
May with Thee acceptance find!
WHO hath believed our report? to whom
And Faith silent and mute.
O holy Lamb, slain ere the world was made, And hast Thou from Thy Father's bosom come, Thyself the sacrifice
Dimly shadow'd of old!
But why thus laid upon the cold dank ground,
While on Thy wan worn frame
It is the mighty anguish of Thy soul,
And terrors of the lost.
It is the proffer'd cup Thy soul affrights :
Must drink, and suck the dregs!
But love doth master terror's agony :
Love strong in death, and His blest Father's will; Calmly He yields Himself
To darkness and to death.
And now unto the scourge, the twined thorn,
He bows His holy head.
Glory to God, His only Son who gave,
And Spirit who came down
ANGELS come, on joyous pinion,
Down the Heaven's melodious stair
Christ is rising,
And doth burst the sepulchre.
All in vain the posted station
All in vain the faithless nation
Sets the seal and watches nigh;
Ye need not fear,
None shall reach where He doth lie!
He Himself, from sleep awaking,
Death cannot hold
Him born of a Virgin's womb.