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Do good in thy good pleasure unto Zion; build thou the walls of Jerusalem.

Then shalt thou be pleased with the sacrifices of righteousness, with burnt offering and whole burnt offering; then shall they offer bullocks upon thine altar.

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Libera me de sanguínibus, Deus, Deus salutis meæ: et exultábit lingua mea justitiam tuam.

Domine, lábia mea apéries : et os meum annuntiábit laudem tuam.

Quoniam si voluísses sacrifícium, dedissem, utique: holocaustis non delectaberis.

Sacrifícium Deo spíritus contribulátus : cor contrítum et humiliátum, Deus, non despícies.

Benígne, fac, Dómine, in bona voluntáte tua Sion : ut ædificéntur muri Jerúsalem.

Tunc acceptabis sacrificium justitiæ, oblationes, et holocausta : tunc imponent super altare tuum vitulos.

Gloria Patri, etc. Dr. Ker, writing on the same theme in “The Psalms in History," says: “It was sung by George Wishart and his friends the night he was taken prisoner, to be afterwards burned. It was read to Lady Jane Grey and her husband, Guildford Dudley, when they were executed together, August 22, 1553 – read to her in Latin, and repeated by her in English. It was also read at Norfolk's execution a few years later. For a long period in the Middle Ages, and after the Reformation, it was the Miserere, the last cry for mercy sung or heard by those who were about to step into the presence of the judge. Most of the Huguenots made it their death-song.

30–GOOD FRIDAY. STABAT MATER. This most pathetic hymn of the Middle Ages is not so well known among Protestants as it ought to be. “The vividness with which it pictures the weeping mother at the Cross, its tenderness, its beauty of rhythm, its melodious double rhymes, and its impressiveness when sung either to the fine plain song melody or in the noble compositions which many of the great masters of music have set to it, go far to justify the place it has long held in the Roman Catholic Church."

It dates in its present form from about 1150. It has been attributed to four Popes, to St. Bernard, and others, but was really written by Jacopone, Jacobus de Benedictis. The Flagellants used it to help them to bear the lashes which they inflicted on each other as they wandered from town to town in the fourteenth century. It has been translated seventy-eight times into German, and many times into every other language. It has been set to music by Palestrina, Pergolesi, Haydn, Rossini, and Dvorak. It has been Protestantised by mutilation in Hymns Ancient and Modern. I give here the Latin and English versions from the Roman Catholic Parochial Hymn-Book.

AT the cross her station keeping,
A Stood the mournful mother weeping

Close to Jesus to the last;
Through her heart His sorrow sharing,
All His bitter anguish bearing,

Now at length the sword had passed.
Oh, how sad and sore distressed
Was that Mother highly blessed

Of the sole-begotten One!
Christ above in torment hangs,
She beneath beholds the pangs

Of her dying glorious Son.
Is there one who would not weep,
Whelmed in miseries so deep,

Christ's dear Mother to behold?
Can the human heart refrain
From partaking in her pain,

In that Mother's pain untold ?
Bruised, derided, cursed, defiled,
She beheld her tender child

All with bloody scourges rent,

For the sins of His own nation,
Saw Him hang in desolation,

Till His spirit forth He sent.
O thou Mother! fount of love!
Touch my spirit from above,

Make my heart with thine accord; Make me feel as thou hast felt; Make my soul to glow and melt

With the love of Christ my Lord. Holy Mother! pierce me through; In my heart each wound renew

Of my Saviour crucified:
Let me 'share with thee His pain,
Who for all my sins was slain,

Who for me in torments died.
Let me mingle tears with thee,
Mourning Him who mourned for me.

All the days that I may live:
By the cross with thee to stay,
There with thee to weep and pray,

Is all I ask of thee to give.
Virgin of all virgins best,
Listen to my fond request:

Let me share thy grief divine;
Let me, to my latest breath,
In my body bear the death

Of that dying Son of thine.
Wounded with His every wound,
Steep my soul till it hath swooned

In His very blood away: Be to me, O Virgin, nigh, Lest in flames I burn and die

In His awful judgment day.

Christ, when thou shalt call me hence,
Be Thy Mother my defence,

Be Thy cross my victory;
While my body here decays,
May my soul Thy goodness praise,

Safe in Paradise with Thee. Amen.

CTABAT Mater dolorosa

Juxta crucem lacrymosa,
Dum pendebat Filius,
Cujus animam gementem,
Contristatam, et dolentem,

Pertransivit gladius.
O quam tristis et afflicta
Fuit illa benedicta

Mater Unigeniti.
Quæ mærebat, et dolebat,
Pia Mater, dum videbat

Nati ponas inclyti.
Quis est homo qui non fleret,
Matrem Christi si videret

In tanto supplicio ?
Quis non posset contristari,
Christi Matrem contemplari

Dolentem cum Filio?
Pro peccatis suæ gentis
Vidit Jesum in tormentis,

Et flagellis subditum.
Vidit suum dulcem Natum
Moriendo desolatum,

Dum emisit spiritum.
Eia Mater, fons amoris,
Me sentire vim doloris,

Fac, ut tecum lugeam.

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