Stabat Mater

O how sad and afflicted
Was that blessed Mother of the Only-begotten!
Who mourned and grieved, the pious Mother
With seeing the torment of her glorious Son
Who is the man who would not weep
If seeing the Mother of Christ in such agony?
Who would not have compassion
On beholding the devout mother suffering with her Son?

He who can see the grief and misery
He worships the call of death
He who can see the weak falling
With grotesque smile on face
He who can see the world now burning
All the old, turning into dust
He who can see the light fading
In eyes of the followers of Christ

For the sins of His people
She saw Jesus in torment
And subjected to scourge
She saw her sweet Son dying, forsaken
She saw Jesus in torment
While He gave up His spirit
Who would not have compassion
On beholding the devout mother suffering with her Son?

His eyes burns of lust
His fist is raised ready for battle
Empathy discarded for Joy of atrocity
His world to take, his world to own

(The grieving Mother stood
Beside the cross weeping
Where her Son was hanging
Through her weeping soul
Compassionate and grieving
A sword passed.)