Link to the music: https://tinyurl.com/stabatmaterdolorosa

Considered by many to be one of the greatest Latin hymns ever written, the Stabat Mater Dolorosa tells the story of the sorrows of Mary during her Son’s passion, and puts the singer in the position of begging to accompany her in those sorrows. Written in the 13th century, likely either by Pope Innocent the III or by a Fransiscan Friar: Jacopo da Todi.

He’s an interesting fellow, who was a very wealthy and successful lawyer, got a reputation for being worldly and greedy, married a pious woman who dedicated her life to penance and prayer for her wicked husband. When she died, Jacopo discovered that she had been wearing a hair-shirt at the time of her death, and he realized it was for his sake. He gave up all his earthly possesions, and joined the Fransiscans and was one of the more…Fransiscan of them…doing all kinds of weird things like crawling around the piazza wearing a saddle, and showing up to his brothers wedding tarred and feathered.

The Stabat Mater is actually one of a pair of hymns that he wrote to the Blessed Mother. The other was almost lost to history, but was rediscovered in the 18th century: Stabat Mater Speciosa – which sings of the birth of Jesus in the same style that the Dolorosa sings of His Passion: from the perspective of Mary, and begging to be admitted to her great joy just as in the Dolorosa we beg to be joined to her great sorrow.

At the Cross her station keeping, Stood 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 has pass'd.

Oh, how sad and sore distress'd Was that Mother highly blest 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, Whelm'd 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?

Bruis'd, derided, curs'd, defil'd, 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 mourn'd 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 blest!, 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 swoon'd, 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.