Stood the mournful Mother weeping, Oh, that Mother's sad affliction- Of the sole-begotten One; What man is there so unfeeling, Could behold that sight unmoved? Could Christ's Mother see there weeping, See the pious Mother keeping Vigil by the Son she loved? For his people's sins atoning, 'Neath the scourge wherewith he bled; Saw her loved one, her consoler, Till at length his spirit fled. O thou Mother of election, Make thy grief, thy pain, my own; Feel the fire that thine has known. Blessed Mother of prediction, Let me in his wounds take part. Make me truly, each day newly Near the cross, where thou art standing, Queen of virgins, best and dearest, Let me ever mourn with thee; Let compassion me so fashion That Christ's wounds, his death and passion, Oh, those wounds do not deny me; Let me drink his blood I pray: On that dreadful judgment-day. May that cross be my salvation; Ope in heaven its raptured eyes. ADESTE FIDELES ANONYMOUS Called "THE PORTUGUESE CHAPEL HYMN.” [15th-16th Century] HASTEN, ye faithful, glad, joyful, and holy, Speed ye to Bethlem to honour the Word; See there the King of angels is born lowly Oh, come and kneel before him; Oh, come and all adore him; Oh come, oh come, rejoicing to honour the Lord. God of the Godhead, true Light unabated, Oh, come and all adore him; Oh come, oh come, rejoicing to honour the Lord. Sing, all ye angels, till echoes rebounding Swell through your halls, for ever be heard; Oh, come and all adore him; Oh come, oh come, rejoicing to honour the Lord. Praise to the Infant, who this day descended; Word, in whom two natures join, yet unblended- Oh, come and all adore him; Oh come, oh come, rejoicing to honour the Lord. O DEUS, EGO AMO TE ATTRIBUTED TO ST. FRANCIS XAVIER. Tr. EDWARD CASWALL [1506-1552] My God, I love thee: not because Nor because they who love thee not Thou, O my Jesus, Thou didst me Upon the Cross embrace; For me didst bear the nails and spear, And grief and torments numberless, And sweat of agony; Yea, death itself; and all for me Who was thine enemy. Then why, O Blessèd Jesu Christ, Not with the hope of gaining aught, E'en so I love thee and will love, MODERN HYMNS A MIGHTY FORTRESS IS OUR GOD MARTIN LUTHER. Tr. FREDERICK HENRY HEDGE A [1483-1546] MIGHTY fortress is our God, Our helper he, amid the flood Of mortal ills prevailing. For still our ancient foe Did we in our own strength confide, Lord Sabaoth his name, From age to age the same, And he must win the battle. And though this world, with devils filled, We will not fear, for God hath willed The prince of darkness grim, We tremble not for him; For lo! his doom is sure,- |