Sweet ****** Mother watched her Son die.
From the beating in the courtyard
To the walk upon the road, she cried
As they led her Son to His death.
Blessed Mother of thoughts so unknown
By any man who might gaze at her eyes.
Holy Jesus whose very soul was thrown
Upon the wolves of evil that howled death.
Her precious Son, Her magnificent boy
Would suffer such as few others would.
For me, and for everyone; like a broken toy
Would His body be displayed upon a cross.
Sweet ****** Mother His death attending.
As it was foretold she would witness this
Cruel passage of His blessed ending.
His fate sealed at the beginning of time.
To be raised to life, to live so He might die.
Dear Jesus who had wept for all mankind,
Travelled to His death upon a cross of wood.
Crowds mocked Him in jeering, hating waves;
In angry voices their words flew like stones
Until they ushered Him into His Holy Grace.
Mighty Lord, now laid silent and at rest.
Yet a miracle would free Him from the tomb,
For He would rise again in splendour!
Arrive in triumph to those in the upper room,
Our Jesus defeated death and so we live.