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 jewchrist
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.)