For Holy Church

O Mary, Mother of the Universal Church, Who didst consent to remain in exile upon earth after the Ascension of thy Divine Son, and for long years to be deprived of His visible presence, that thou mightest be the guide, the Mistress, and the loving Mother of the infant Church, do thou now as ever extend upon Her thy maternal care. Thou seest the persecutions to which She is exposed, the dangers to Her children, the tribulations of Her Pastor. Remember the last words of thy dying Son, by which He gave thee to us to be our Mother, and deign to protect us, the children of thy sorrow, that none of us may be lost, but that all may remain steadfast in the true Faith and the practice of virtue.

Let thy maternal compassion extend also to those unfortunate children of thine, to those pitiable souls who have denied the One, True Church and have fallen into schism and heresy, that they may soon return to the true Catholic Church, and lovingly submit to Her authority and to the Shepherd appointed by Christ.

Have pity also on those children of thine, who know not thy Son, the Light and Life of the world; may thy supplications and tears move the depths of Divine mercy, that He may enlighten them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death! Oh! may all true Catholics, through thy powerful intercession, remain faithful to their God and their Mother the Church! May all the stray sheep be brought back to the fold! May all heathens walk in the light of the new Jerusalem, that all men may know, and love, and serve, and bless thy Divine Son forever and ever! Amen.

(Silent reflection… Hail Mary…)
O Mother Most Sorrowful, pray for us who have recourse to thee.



What a sea of tears and sorrows did the soul of Mary toss,
To and fro upon its’ billows, while she wept her bitter loss;
In her arms her Jesus holding, torn so newly from the Cross.

Oh that mournful Virgin Mother, see her tears how fast they flow
Down upon His mangled Body, wounded Side and thorny Brow,
While His Hands and Feet she kisses, picture of immortal woe.


O come and mourn with me awhile;
See Mary calls us to her side;
Oh, come and let us mourn with her,
Jesus, our Love, is crucified.

Have we no tears to shed for Him,
While soldiers scoff and Jews deride?
Ah! look how patiently He hangs,
Jesus, our Love, is crucified.

Come, take thy stand beneath the Cross,
And let the Blood from out that Side
Fall gently on thee drop by drop;
Jesus, our Love, is crucified.

Our Mother of Sorrows

Our Lady, who is full of grace,
Stood in anguish at her place;
Stood erect beneath the Cross,
Close to Him Who died for us.

What must we, the guilty feel,
As beside the Cross we kneel?
Ours the voices of the foe;
Ours the hands that struck the blow.

Help us, Mary, full of grace,
To look upon His suffering Face;
Then may we closer to thee move,
And learn to look upon His love.


I can scarcely see Thee, Jesus,
For the tears that fill my eyes,
When I know on Calv’ry hanging
My dear Savior for me dies.

Ah, why not the Victim changing;
Why not I, the sinner, bleed?
Mine the sin, my dearest Savior;
Mine, yes mine, the wicked deed.

Gazing on Thy Cross so lowly,
I see there Thy Hands and Feet,
Torn by cruel nails and bleeding;
Who could Jesus so mistreat?

Whence the thorns Thy Head encircling;
Whence the spear that pierced Thy Side?
All one bleeding wound the Body
Of my Jesus Crucified.

All my sins have made me guilty
Of the torments Thou didst bear;
Let my love and service henceforth
All my wicked life repair.

In Thy Death my hopes reposing,
On Thy love my soul relies;
Let me suffer with Thee, Jesus,
That with Thee I may arise.


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 had passed

Oh, how sad and sore distressed, was that Mother, highly blessed, 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, ‘whelmed 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?

Bruised, derided, cursed, defiled, 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 Savior crucified.

Let my share with thee His pain, Who for all our sins was slain, Who for me in torments died.

Let me mingle tears with thee, mourning Him Who mourned 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 this awful judgment day.

Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence, be Thy Mother my defense, be Thy Cross my victory.

While my body here decays, may my soul Thy goodness praise, safe in Paradise with Thee. Amen.

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