Blessed Mother of prediction.
Stamp the marks of crucifixion
Deeply on my stony heart,
Ever leading where thy bleeding
Son is pleading for my needing,
Let me in His wounds take part.
Make me truly, each day newly,
While life lasts, O Mother, duly
Weep with Him, the crucified!
Let me, ’tis my sole demanding,
Near the Cross, where thou art standing,
Stand in sorrow at thy side.
Queen of Virgins, best and dearest,
Grant, oh! grant the prayer thou hearest,
Let me ever mourn with thee;
Let compassion me so fashion
That Christ’s wounds, His death and passion,
Be each day renewed in me.
Oh! those wounds do not deny me!
On that Cross, oh! crucify me!
Let me drink His blood I pray;
Then on fire, enkindled, daring,
I may stand without despairing
On the dreadful Judgment Day.
Make the Cross be my salvation.
Make Christ’s death my preservation,
Make His grace my heart make wise,
And when death my body taketh,
Make my soul when it awaketh,
Ope in heaven its raptured eyes.
