Stabat Mater (Jacopone da Todi)/Jozef Janowski/en

Перейти к навигацииПерейти к поиску

Stabat Mater

Mother, bowed with dreadful grief
You must watch with slowly falling tears
Your Son dying on the Cross!
Through Your heart, pierced with sorrow,
That cruel sword must be driven
As it was foretold, oh Holy One!
Oh! How sad and afflicted
Was that Blessed Lady,
Mother of the Only Begotten!
She who saw with grief
And contemplated the unending
Anguish of Her Son!

Could anyone withhold their own tears
Thus beholding Christ's dear mother
In woe unlike any other woe!
Who would not feel grief
For that kneeling Holy Mother —
Suffering as noone else has?
For every nation's sins
He suffered persecution,
A prey to scourgers, as she saw:
Saw her Jesus taken most foully,
Forsaken by all, languishing,
When he gave up his spirit.

Tender Mother, sweet fountain of love,
Quickly soften my hard heart,
Make me share Your pain:
Kindle in me such burning zeal,
Let such rich love flow to Jesus
That I may be favoured.
Holy Mother, I implore You,
Crucify this heart before you —
It is truly guilty!
Hatred, mockery and scorn,
Accusation, blindness, thirst,
Give all these to me.

Under Your care, weeping, watching,
Unsleeping beneath the Cross
May I live and mourn for His sake:
Kneeling with You close to Jesus,
Feeling all Your pain with You,
Oh! Grant me this, my prayer.

Immaculate maid most excellent,
Peerless, dwelling in the highest heaven,
Make me truly mourn with You;
May my sighs help me bear his death,
Ever reviving in me
The anguish he suffered on my behalf:
Bearing the same scars as His,
Enflamed by the Cross,
Elated to ecstatic love:
Inspired and affected thus,
Virgin, let me be protected
When I am called in my turn.

May His sacred Cross defend me,
May he who died there be my friend
So that He may pardon me!
When my mortal body perishes,
Grant to my soul
All the joys of Paradise.