Evening Meditation

By the Cross her station keeping,
Stood the mournful Mother weeping,
Where he hung, her dying Lord.
For her soul, of joy bereaved,
Torn with anguish, deeply grieved,
Felt the sharp and piercing Sword.
O how sad and sore distressed
Then was she, that Mother blessed
Of the sole-begotten One.
Deep the woe of her affliction
When she saw the Crucifixion
Of her ever-glorious Son.
Who, on Christ's dear Mother gazing,
Torn by anguish so amazing,

Born of woman, would not weep?
Who, on Christ's dear Mother thinking,
Such a cup of sorrow drinking,
Would not share her sorrow deep?
For his people's sins chastised,
She her Jesus saw despised,
Torn with nails, with thorns entwined.
Saw her Son from judgment taken
And in death by all forsaken
Till his spirit he resigned.
Mother, fount of all devotion,
Stir in me thy grief's emotion,
Let my tears be joined with thine.
Let my heart be always burning,
Still for love of Jesus yearning,
Let his will be found in mine.  Amen.

Let us pray.
O God, in whose passion the sword of grief did pierce the gentle soul of the glorious Virgin Mary, thy Mother, that so might be fulfilled the word of thy Prophet Simeon: mercifully grant that we who here do call to mind the suffering whereby she was pierced; may by the glorious merits and prayers of all the Saints who have faithfully stood beneath the Cross, be fulfilled with the blessed fruits of thy passion.  Who livest and reignest with the Father in the unity of the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end.
R.  Amen.