Forgive us, Lord, where we too have
Through ignorance offended.
Now to the contrite thief He cries,
“Thou, verily, in Paradise
Shall meet Me ere to-morrow:”
Lord, take us to Thy Kingdom soon,
Who linger here in sorrow.
To weeping Mary standing by,
“Behold thy son!” now hear him cry,
To John, “Behold thy mother!”