Mother of Tears

Father, give me strength to reach
My Son in this eternity
Of bleeding Love upon a Cross!
Hast Thou forsaken Him as have
His friends in this abysmal hour?
Oh, torn and tortured Hands and Feet!
My God, forgive the savage cries
That stab the ears of Innocence!
Father, let each racking Breath
Sear my throat and drain my veins
In His consummate agony!

The blaze of Holocaust is night,
Blinding the eyes of cruelty.
In groping fear the guilty flee
And leave the outstretched Arms
To infinite emptiness. Oh, friends,
A few more steps and we shall stand
Abandoned with the Son of God.
Oh, Son, Thy mother falls before
Thy Cross. Accept her weakness,
sum of all her love for Thee and let
Her share Thy frightful immolation!

Fra Angelico, Crucifixion,
mural, Florence, 1440

My arms receive Thy lifeless Body,
Slaughtered Lamb. Thy holy Will,
My God, be done.....
Oh generations
That will call me blessed, call me
Also Mother of Tears, and weep with me
If you would know how God has loved
The World.

Marie L. Weldon
Queen of All Hearts
Back Cover
March/April 1954

Queen of the Seven Sorrows

The hour of parting, the burning tears
And now before us the lonely years,
The vacant chair by the dear hearthstone
And the hearts left desolate and alone;

Sickness and suffering, grief and loss
Oh, life holds many a thorn and cross,
The bright dream shattered, the hopes laid low,
And a shadow darkening the sun's white glow.

Thus sorrow comes in a thousand ways,
Its thread is running through all our days;
Today the hour of joy is here,
But, oh! Tomorrow may bring the tear.

O Queen of the Seven Sorrows of Grief!
What holy solace, what blest relief
To come with our little woes to thee.
Who hast fathomed the deeps of Sorrow's sea!

How light our troubles compared with thine!
Always His Cross, like a blood-red sign,
Was thy dread vision both night and day,
Even when He was a Child at play.

Fra Angelico, Crucifixion,
mural, Florence, 1440

O Queen of our grief and our pain thou art,
For their deepest swords have pierced thy heart,
And in Sorrow's day we should turn to thee
At the foot of the Cross on Calvary.

Cyril Robert
Our Lady's Praise in Poetry
Poughkeepsie, New York: Marist Press, 1944

Good Friday Mothers

You watched that Friday of the sunless skies
While they plucked your Fruit from a tree upon a hill.
That grief of yours, flood high and very still,
Found no escape to the spillway of your eyes.
Oh, there was John whom Wisdom had made wise,
And Mary of the Spices who felt her thrill
Of pardon. Ah, but they can never fill
The dark before the dawn when He will rise.

O Mother of all mothers, you know loss,
The pain of staring at a vacant place
Where Someone used to sit the evening through!

Fra Angelico, Crucifixion,
mural, Florence, 1440


Comfort all mothers, Mother of the Cross,
These days of hoping for a homing face,
And make all mothers heroines like you!

Patrick J. Carroll, Cyril Robert
Our Lady's Praise in Poetry
Poughkeepsie, New York: Marist Press, 1944.

Mother of the Crucified

Mother, whose heart was crucified with Christ,
Yet who refused oblivion on that day,
You know what agony a man may bear,
You know the strength of God-supported clay.
Tonight the tortured nations cry aloud,
While waves of pain about them surge and roll.
Sharpen our knives of prayer that these may cleave
The bonds that cut into each limb and soul.
And you, O Mother of the Crucified!
Once more, as co-redemptrix, play your part.
Catch up this seething world, and plunge it deep
Into the vast compassion of His Heart.

Cecile Faget, Cyril Robert
Mary Immaculate: God's Mother and Mine.
Poughkeepsie, New York: Marist Press, 1946.

Fra Angelico, Crucifixion, Florence, 1440


Three Mothers Beneath Three Crosses

On Calvary's hill were three mothers who knelt
Where the fearsome great crosses stood,
And three in their hour of agony felt
They were one in their motherhood.

Two wept for the deeds their first-born had done
And the felon's doomed pathway long trod;
One was calm in a questionless faith in her Son...
For She was the Mother of God!

Forlorn and embittered in awe-stricken grief
One heard her son scoff and deride;
One rejoiced to hear Paradise promised a thief
Who found grace with his God crucified.

Deposition Book, Passion Book, Halberstadt region,
Deposition, 1450

Sore ashamed, one fled the grim crosses; but there
Knelt the mother of Dismas to call,
First of all earth's children, in confident prayer
On Mother of ALL!

Mary Adrienne Ervin, Cyril Robert
Mary Immaculate: God's Mother and Mine.
Poughkeepsie, New York: Marist Press, 1946.




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