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The Stabat Mater.
103
THE STABAT MATER.
LORD LINDSAY.
1.
BY the Croſs, ſad vigil keeping,
Stood the mournful mother weeping,
While on it the Saviour hung;
In that hour of deep diſtreſs,
Pierced the ſword of bitterneſs
Through her heart with ſorrow wrung.
2.
Oh! how fad, how woe-begone
Was that ever-bleſſed one,
Mother of the Son of God!
Oh! what bitter tears ſhe ſhed
Whilſt before her Jesus bled
'Neath the Father's penal rod!
