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The Stabat Mater.
9.
Be, ye wounds, my tribulation!
Be, thou Crofs, my infpiration!
Mark, O blood, my Heaven-ward way.
Thus to fervor rapt, O tender
Virgin, be thou my defender
In the dreadful Judgment Day.
10.
With the Croſs my faith I'll cheriſh;
By Chriſt's death ſuftained I'll periſh,
Through His grace again to rife.
Come then, Death, this body ſealing,
To my ranſomed foul revealing
Glorious days in Paradiſe.
