When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother.” –John 19: 26-27
Fair Mother mild, your will with His aligned,
And perfectly, your soul so filled with grace,
Do help me now, for I am ill-inclined
To warfare or to toil to turn my face.
So near His Cross you stand, and to His heart;
His love for me most certainly you know.
‘Tis He you aim to please in taking part
In this my battle ‘gainst the deadly foe.
I know not why Christ loves me, sinner vile.
I faint and fall upon the battlefield.
And yet His love propels me all the while
To rise again, true pow’r in Him to wield.
His boundless mercy casts me in your care.
You love Him better; teach me that love rare.