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The Stabat Mater.
125
9.
Virgin, peerleſs of condition,
Be not wroth with my petition,
Let me claſp thy little Son;
Let me bear that child ſo glorious,
Him, whoſe birth, o'er death victorious,
Willed that life for man was won.
10.
Let me, ſatiate with my pleaſure,
Feel the rapture of thy treaſure
Leaping for that joy intenſe:
That, inflamed by ſuch communion,
Through the marvel of that union
I may thrill in every ſenſe.
11.
All that love this ſtable truly,
And the ſhepherds watching duly,
Tarry there the livelong night:
Pray that, by thy Son's dear merit,
His elected may inherit
Their own country's endleſs light.
