(in honour of the Sorrows of the Blessed Virgin Mary)


An indulgence of 100 days to those who devoutly repeat the Stabat Mater in honour of the Sorrows of the Blessed Virgin Mary.


  • Stabat Mater dolorosa
    juxta Crucem lacrimosa,
    dum pendebat Filius.
    Cujus animam gementem,
    contristatam et dolentem
    pertransivit gladius.

    O quam tristis et afflicta
    fuit illa benedicta,
    mater Unigeniti!
    Quae mœrebat, et dolebat,
    pia Mater, dum videbat
    nati pœnas ínclyti.

    Quis est homo qui non fleret,
    matrem Christi si videret
    in tanto supplicio!
    Quis non posset contristari
    Christi Matrem contemplari
    dolentum cum Fílio?

    Pro peccatis suæ gentis
    vidit Jesum in tormentis,
    et flagellis subditum.
    Vidit suum dulcem Natum
    moriendo desolatum,
    dum emisit spiritum.

    Eia Mater! fons amoris
    Me sentire vim doloris
    fac, ut tecum lugeam.
    Fac, ut ardeat cor meum
    in amando Christum Deum
    ut sibi complaceam.

    Sancta Mater, istud agas,
    crucifixi fige plagas
    cordi meo valide.
    Tui Nati vulnerati,
    tam dignati pro me pati,
    pœnas mecum divide.

    Fac me tecum pie flere,
    crucifixo condolere,
    donec ego vixero.
    Juxta Crucem tecum stare,
    et me tibi sociare
    in planctu desidero.

    Virgo virginum præclara,
    mihi jam non sis amara,
    fac me tecum plangere.
    Fac, ut portem Christi mortem,
    passionis fac consortem,
    et plagas recolere.

    Fac me plagis vulnerari,
    fac me Cruce inebriari,
    et cruore Filii.
    Flammis ne urar succensus,
    per te, Virgo, sim defensus
    in die judicii.

    Christe, cum sit hinc exire,
    da per Matrem me venire
    ad palmam victoriæ.
    Quando corpus morietur,
    fac, ut animæ donetur
    paradisi gloria.


  • 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 pass’d.

    Oh, how sad and sore distress’d
    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,
    Whelm’d 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?

    Bruis’d, derided, curs’d, defil’d,
    She beheld her tender Child,
    All with bloody scourges rent;
    For the sins of His own nation
    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 thou hast felt,
    Make my soul to glow and melt,
    With the love of Christ my Lord.

    Holy Mother pierce me through,
    In my heart each wound renew,
    Of my Saviour crucified.
    Let me share with thee His pain,
    Who for all my sins was slain,
    Who for me in torments died.

    Let me mingle tears with thee,
    Mourning Him who mourn’d for me,
    All the days that I may live.
    By the Cross with thee to stay;
    There with thee to weep and pray,
    Is all I ask of thee to give.

    Virgin of all virgins blest!
    Listen to my fond request:
    Let me share thy grief divine.
    Let me to my latest breath,
    In my body bear the death,
    Of that dying Son of thine.

    Wounded with His every wound
    Steep my soul till it hath swooned,
    In His very Blood away.
    Be to me, O Virgin, nigh,
    Lest in flames I burn and die,
    In His awful judgment day.

    Christ, when thou shalt call me hence,
    Be Thy mother, my defence,
    Be Thy Cross my victory;
    While my body here decays
    May my soul Thy goodness praise
    Safe in Paradise with thee.