At the cross her station keeping
Stood the mournful mother weeping
Close to Jesus to the last

Through her heart, his sorrow sharing
All his bitter anguish bearing
Now at length the sword has passed

Oh how sad and sore distressed
Was that mother highly blest
Of the sole begotten One

Christ above in torment hangs
She beneath beholds the pangs
Of her dying glorious Son

Is there one who would not weep
Whelmed in miseries so deep
Christ's dear mother to behold

Can the human heart refrain
From partaking in her pain
In that mother's pain untold

Bruised, derided, cursed, defiled
She beheld her tender child
All with bloody scourges rent