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FOR GOOD FRIDAY.
STABAT Mater dolorosa,
Cujus animam gementem,
quam tristis et afflicta Fuit illa benedicta
Quæ morebat et dolebat,
Quis est homo qui non fleret
Quis non posset contristari
Pro peccatis suæ gentis
Vidit suum dulcem natum,
Dum emisit spiritum.
FOR GOOD FRIDAY.
By the cross unheeded sighing,
Through her heart, with sorrows riven, Sharp the destined sword was driven, Sharp beyond her worst forebode.
Blest of women-with what anguish
How she watched, in bitterest moaning, Fainting, sickening, trembling, groaning, All the tortures of her Son!
Lives there one, who, coldly gazing,
To the cross, where, broken-hearted,
Wounded for the world's transgression, Murdered to make intercession,
Scourged by those he came to save,
That sweet Son, by most forsaken,
Eja Christe,* fons amoris,
Fac, ut tecum lugeam:
Sancte Pater, istud agas
Cordi meo validè.
Tui nati vulnerati,
Tam dignati pro me pati,
Fac me juxta crucem flere,
Donec ego vixero.
Flens cum flente Matre stare,
Me cum illâ sociare
In planctu desidero.
Fac ut portem Christi mortem,
Flammis ne urar succensus
Per te, Jesu, sim defensus
Quando corpus morietur,
Fac ut animæ donetur
ANCIENT ECCLESIASTICAL HYMN.
*It is hoped that no one will object to the slight alterations by which the 1emainder of this hymn is transferred to the true object of worship.
Jesus, fountain of compassion,
Holy Father, hear my crying,
Since for me, by foes surrounded,
Let me by his cross lie weeping,
There, by his blest Mother bending,
Make me, each ill lust denying,
Jesu! from the death eternal,
When the worms this flesh inherit,
THER was alsò a Nonne, a Prioresse,
And Frenche she spake ful fayre and fetisly,"
Of gresè, when she dronken hadde hire draught.
2 Neatly. 3 Her pleasure. 4 Smallest spot.