Stabat Mater, Op. 58, B71 | Text

Stabat Mater dolorosa
iuxta crucem lacrimosa
dum pendebat Filius.
Cuius animam gementem
contristatam et dolentem
pertransivit gladius.

O quam tristis et afflicta
fuit illa benedicta
Mater unigeniti.

Quae moerebat et dolebat
pia Mater, cum videbat
Nati poenas inclyti.

Quis est homo, qui non fleret
Christi Matrem si videret
in tanto supplicio?

Quis non posset contristari
Christi Matrem contemplari
dolentem cum Filio?

Pro peccatis suae gentis
vidit Iesum in tormentis
et flagellis subditum.

Vidit suum dulcem Natum
moriendo, desolatum
dum emissit spiritum.

Eia Mater, fons amoris
me sentire vim doloris
fac, ut tecum lugeam.

Fac, ut ardeat cor meum
in amando Christum Deum
ut sibi complaceam.

Sancta Mater, istud agas
Crucifixi fige plagas
cordi meo valide.

Tui Nati vulnerati
tam dignati pro me pati
poenas mecum divide.

Fac me vere tecum flere
Crucifixo condolere
donec ego vixero.

Iuxta crucem tecum stare
te libenter sociare
in planctu desidero.

Virgo virginum praeclara
mihi iam non sis amara
fac me tecum plangere.

Fac, ut portem Christi mortem
passionis fac consortem
et plagas recolere.

Fac me plagis vulnerari
Cruce hac inebriari
ob amorem Filii.

Inflammatus et accensus
per te, Virgo, sim defensus
in die iudicii.

Fac me Cruce custodiri
morte Christi praemuniri
confoveri gratia.

Quando corpus morietur
fac, ut animae donetur
Paradisi gloria. Amen.

At the Cross her station keeping,
stood the mournful Mother weeping,
close to her son to the last.

Through her heart, His sorrow sharing,
all His bitter anguish bearing,
now at length the sword has passed.

O 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?

For the sins of His own nation,
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.

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 my Lord.

Holy Mother! pierce me through,
in my heart each wound renew
of my Savior 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 Judgment Day.

Let the cross then be my guard,
the death of Christ my watch and ward,
and cherish me by heaven's grace

While my body here decays,
may my soul Thy goodness praise,
Safe in Paradise with Thee. Amen.