What have we done to You
By abysmal oblivion,
Ill-will to Your saving Law?
Meek Master…
Ill-treated by us all…
Clothed in the garb of hellcats,
Forcing with rage and fury
Satanic blows…
O bitter savage scourging;
Great welts and livid tumors
Concealing Heavenly Flesh;
Blood Divine running down
In streams to pavement;
Pristine, Virginal Flesh
Scattered in pieces
About the pavement…
Bones laid bare larger
Than a palm of the hand!
Sacred, disfigured
Countenance…
Wounded, swollen,
Blinded, spat at…
O unwounded
Not a single spot!
Heart most merciful
Enduring sore insults…
Tender Mother bearing
Every single throe
O aggrieved Mother,
Pierced, riveted
With the sword
Of relentless
And undying woe…
(For Our Savior & Holy Mother)
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