For His people's sinful stains
Jesus she saw in racking pains,
And to the lash consigned.

She looked upon her own sweet Son,
Dying all helpless and alone,

Till He His breath resigned.

Holy Mother, source of love,

The force of grief, oh! make me prove,
That I may mourn with thee.

And make my heart burn ardently
With love of Christ, my God, that I

May pleasing to Him be.

This prayer, O Holy Mother, grant,
Deep in my heart the wounds implant
Of Jesus crucified.

And of thy wounded Son, the pain,
Which He for me did meekly deign

To bear, with me divide.

Make me, in truth, weep by thy side,

And suffer with the Crucified,

Till I rest in the grave.

Close by the cross with thee to stand,

And willingly go hand in hand

With thee in grief, I crave.

Virgo virginum præclara;
Mihi jam non sis amara;

Fac me tecum plangere.

Fac ut portem Christi mortem,
Passionis ejus sortem,
Et plagas recolere.

Fac me plagis vulnerari,
Cruce hac inebriari,

Ob amorem filii.

Inflammatus et accensus,

Per te, Virgo, sim defensus
In die judicii.

Fac me cruce custodiri,
Morte Christi præmuniri,
Confoveri gratia—
Quando corpus morietur

Fac ut animæ donetur

Paradisi gloria.

Virgin of virgins, brightest thou,

Be not ungracious to me now;

But make me mourn with thee.

Make me keep Christ's death in view, His bitter passion, and renew

His wounds in memory.

Cause that these wounds me lacerate, And this cross me inebriate

With joy for thy Son's love. Feverish and throbbing, Virgin, may

I, on the final judgment-day,

Thy kind protection prove.

Make the cross my safeguard be,
Christ's death be my security,

May His grace me enliven :
And when at length my body dies,
Grant that the joys of Paradise

May to my soul be given.

Lines on the Valley of Josaphat.

LONG, narrow, like a tomb, in deathlike guise,
Dark Josaphat! thy vale funereal lies;
Thou hast no soil for one sad cypress tree,
Its grief would not be sad enough for thee;
But silent desolation reigns around.
No other tenant of thy gloom is found,
Save, when invited by thy open graves,

Some hungry wolf thy frowning aspect braves.

But when the day of wrath shall grimly rise,
Ere sun and moon bid farewell to the skies,
Oh! what a change will then come o'er thy face
When thou art peopled by all Adam's race,
Who to the final judgment shall be brought,
Where nought is hid, of action, word, or thought,
When the Archangel sounds his withering blast,
To rouse the dead,—and Death shall stand aghast.

Then the full wave of Time, in thundering roar,

Shall break upon eternity's vast shore.

The Sun of Justice bursts upon the sight,

By hosts of angels, satellated, bright

And countless as the stars that gemmed the sky Before their light was quenched by the Most High. And, robed in glory, Heaven's bright Queen shall come Her own to claim, and bear them to their home.

And as I gaze upon thy features wan,
Fraught with the final destiny of man,

This awful question rushes on my soul :

"Where shall my place be found at this dread goal?”Here was the Saviour bound and judged by men,

Here shall their judgment be reversed;

Unto all flesh, upon this fatal field,

The glory of the Lord shall be revealed.

and then,