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MARGARET'S PRAYER TO THE MATER DOLOROSA.
FROM GÖTHE'S FAUST.
Ach neige
Du Schmerzenreiche.
Du Schmerzenreiche.
Oh bend thy face,
Thou rich in agonies!
Oh look with grace
On my necessities!
Thou rich in agonies!
Oh look with grace
On my necessities!
The sword is in thy heart,
With thousand pangs its fibres part;
Thy Son before thine eyes is dying;
Thou to the Father lookest sighing,
Heaven's aid for Him and thee
Praying in thine agony.
With thousand pangs its fibres part;
Thy Son before thine eyes is dying;
Thou to the Father lookest sighing,
Heaven's aid for Him and thee
Praying in thine agony.
Oh, who can tell
The pangs that rack each bone?
Oh, who can feel
For all by this poor bosom undergone?
What tremblings chill it,
What passions thrill it,
Thou knowest only, Thou alone.
The pangs that rack each bone?
Oh, who can feel
For all by this poor bosom undergone?
What tremblings chill it,
What passions thrill it,
Thou knowest only, Thou alone.