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The Stabat Mater.
113
3.
Who the man, who, called a brother,
Would not weep, ſaw he Chriſt's mother
In ſuch deep diſtrefs and wild?
Who could not fad tribute render
Witneſſing that mother tender
Agonizing with her child?
4.
For His people's fins atoning,
Him ſhe ſaw in torments groaning,
Given to the ſcourger's rod;
Saw her darling offspring dying,
Deſolate, forſaken, crying,
Yield His ſpirit up to God.
5.
Make me feel thy forrow's power,
That with thee I tears may ſhower,
Tender mother, fount of love!
Make my heart with love unceafing
Burn toward Chriſt the Lord, that pleaſing
I may be to Him above.
