23/05/2026
This poem was written by Blessed Jacopone dei Benedetti da Todi, Friar Minor, in 1303. It was translated by Edward Caswall, Lyra Catholica in 1849. I adapted small parts of it for you.
I’ll post my own poems in future, but please enjoy this one for now. It transports me back to that terrible day. I can’t imagine Mary’s courage and pain as she stood there. For at least 6 hours, she beheld her dear son slowly die. How horrific for her ♥️
Stabut Mater
At the Cross her station keeping,�Stood the mournful Mother weeping�Close to her Son, to the last.
Through her heart, His sorrow sharing�All His bitter anguish bearing�Now at length the sword has passed.
O how sad and sore distressed�Was that Mother, highly blest,�Of her 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?�Overwhelmed in miseries so deep?�Christ’s dear Mother did behold?
Can the human heart refrain�From partaking in her distress,�In that Mother’s pain untold?
For the sins of His own nation,�She saw her Jesus wracked with torment,�His body, all with scourges rent
She beheld her tender Child,�Saw Him hang in desolation,�Till His spirit forth He sent.
O thou Mother, Fount of love�Touch my spirit from above,�Make my heart with thine accord
Make me feel as you there felt;�Make my soul to glow and melt�With the love of Christ my King
May my soul with His, soar and sing
Holy Mother, pierce me through,�In my heart each wound renew�Of my Savior crucified
Let me share with you His pain�He who for all my sins was slain
He who died for me wracked with pain
Let me mingle my tears with yours
Let me mourn Him who mourned me
All my days, oh let me see
By the Cross with you to stay,�There with you to weep and pray,�This is all I ask of you to give.
Virgin of all virgins blest�Listen to my sincere request:�Let me share your grief divine
Let me, to my last breath,�In my body bear the death�Of that dying Son of yours.
Wounded with His every wound,�Steep my soul until it swoons
In His very Blood does drown
Stay with me, O Virgin, nigh
Don’t let me in flames burn and die,�Upon His glorious Judgment Day.
Christ, when you call me hence,�Be your Mother my defense,�Be your Cross my victory
While my body here decays,�May my soul Your goodness praise,�Safe in Paradise with You to stay
