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.

T the cross her station keeping,

Astood 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.

TABAT Mater dolorosa

Dum pendebat Filius,
Cujus animam gementem,
Contristatam, et dolentem,
Pertransivit gladius.

O quam tristis et afflicta
Fuit illa benedicta
Mater Unigeniti.

Quæ morebat, et dolebat,
Pia Mater, dum videbat
Nati pœnas 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.

Amen.

Fac ut ardeat cor meum
In amando Christum Deum,
Ut sibi complaceam.

Sancta Mater, istud agas,
Crucifixi fige plagas

Cordi meo valide.
Tui Nati vulnerati,
Tam dignati pro me pati,
Pœnas mecum divide.

Fac me tecum pie flere,
Crucifixo condolere,
Donec ego vixero.
Juxta Crucem tecum stare,
Et me tibi sociare

In planctu desidero.

Virgo virginum præclara,
Mihi jam non sis amara;

Fac me tecum plangere.
Fac ut portem Christi mortem,
Passionis fac consortem,
Et plagas recolere.
Fac me plagis vulnerari.
Fac me Cruce inebriari,
Et cruore Filii,

Flammis ne urar succensus,
Per te, Virgo, sim defensus
In die judicii.

Christe, cum sit hinc exire
Da per Matrem me venire
Ad palmam victoriæ.
Quando corpus morietur,
Fac ut animæ donetur
Paradisi gloria.

Amen.

When Sir Walter Scott lay dying, Lockhart, his sonin-law, after saying that they could hear him muttering some of the magnificent hymns of the Roman ritual, in which he had always delighted, adds: “ We very often heard distinctly the cadence of the 'Dies Iræ,' and I think the very last stanza that we could make out was the first of a still greater favourite, 'Stabat Mater Dolorosa.""

It is worthy of note that this poem, which holds all but the highest place in the hymnody of the Catholic Church, was composed by a man who, for his zeal for reform, was thrown into jail by the ecclesiastical authorities of his day. He lay in the dungeon to which he had been consigned until the death of Pope Boniface the Eighth, when he was released.

31- EASTER. CHRIST THE LORD IS

RISEN TO-DAY.

THIS hymn by Charles Wesley, set to Handel's "See the Conquering Hero Comes," has long been accepted as the best English Easter hymn. Yet it is curious to note that John Wesley dropped it out of the Wesleyan Hymn-Book in 1780, and it did not regain its place there till 1830.

CH

HRIST, the Lord, is risen to-day,
Sons of men, and angels, say:
Raise your songs and triumphs high:
Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply.
Love's redeeming work is done:
Fought the fight, the battle won.
Lo! our sun's eclipse is o'er:
Lo! He sets in blood no more.

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal,
Christ hath burst the gates of hell;
Death, in vain, forbids Him rise;
Christ hath opened Paradise.