Stabat Mater Dolorosa (At the Cross Her Station Keeping)

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 had pass'd. Oh, how sad and sore distress'd 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, Whelm'd 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?