God, whose might on high appears,
Who camest to this world
In human guise,
In this vale of many tears
And sullen fears
Thy great glory hast unfurled
Before our eyes.

And thy Son so delicate,
By His nature and His birth
From out the skies,
See with blood and wounds so great
How grievous is His state,
For our infirmities
And little worth!

O Ruler of the sky,
God of enduring power
And might,
Who for Thy creatures, men, to die,
Didst not deny
Thy Godhead in that hour
Infinite.

And Thy daughter, mother, bride,
Noble flower of the skies,
The Virgin blest.
Gentle dove, when her Son died,
When her God was crucified,
Ah, what tears her grief attest!

O precious tears that well
From that virgin heart, distilled
One by one!
Flowing they thy sorrow tell,
And those perfect eyes have filled,
And still flow on.

Ah, who but one might have,
In it manifestly
That grief to prove,
That woe and suffering grave
That such weeping brought to thee
For thy love.

Fainting with grief, if failed
Thy tears, yet might not fail
Thy Son, thy Life,
Who to the cross was nailed,
Fresh tears, that could avail
In prayer at strife.

For when thee thus fainting
He in His anguish saw
All lifeless,
More than all His suffering
Him did wring,
And pangs twofold from Him draw
Thy distress.

No words have ever told,
No prayer or litany wailed
Such grief and loss:
Our thought may not enfold
Nor thee behold,
As thou wert when He was nailed
Upon the cross!

To thee, O lovely face,
Wherein Heaven's beauty shone,
What woe was given
When the cross on high they place,
And, thereupon
Nailèd, the Son of Heaven,
Even thy Son!

Then o'er their heads on high
He who was thy delight
Came to thy sight,
Nailèd so cruelly,
Thee standing by,
The Mother of Him who died
There crucified!

Frail Queen of Holiness,
Who would not weep to see
Thee thus o'erthrown,
Fainting and motionless,
Who dost uphold and bless
Our life alone!