My Lady, My Lady of Sweetness and Sorrow,
Behold! Thy Son suf'ring today and tomorrow,
He, Our King and God, is here crowned with thistle thorn,
Whose violet flow'rs refuse to show or e'er adorn.
With tenderness and love you gaze upon his face,
And through his eyes above receive His loving grace.
O Mother, whose virgin womb did bear us Our God,
Receive all grace for us in thy kind heart unflawed!
For thy seven sorrows you did secure twelve stars,
The light of which guides us from worldly, tepid wars.
We are your sons and soldiers who will now endure
The suf'rings of this life for thy pierced heart so pure.
