What pierced thee sore heals sin-sick souls to-day;
Then thy Five Wounds we glorify for aye—
Hands, feet, and broken Heart, beloved, adored.
Now tears of bitter grief flow fast like rain:
Our Lord’s most Precious Blood for us flows fast.
Alas! what tears of ours, what love, what pain,
Can match that tide of blood and love and woe?
Mother, we turn to thy Seven Griefs at last;
Teach us to stand, with thee, the cross below.