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The Stabat Mater.
115
6.
Holy mother, this be granted,
That the ſlain one's wounds be planted
Firmly in my heart to bide.
Of Him wounded, all aſtounded—
Depths unbounded for me founded,
All the pangs with me divide.
7.
Make me weep with thee in union;
With the Crucified, communion
In His grief and fuffering give;
Near the crofs with tears unfailing
I would join thee in thy wailing
Here as long as I mall live.
8.
Maid of maidens, all excelling!
Be not bitter, me repelling,
Make thou me a mourner too;
Make me bear about Chrift's dying,
Share His paſſion, ſhame defying,
All His wounds in me renew.
