OUR LADY OF SORROWS/MERCY

OUR LADY OF SORROWS:  September 15th:  Novena:  9/6–9/14: and the Friday before Good Friday — used to be Passion Friday changes with date of Easter, each year:

 

O Most Holy Vir­gin, Mother of our Lord Jesus Christ: by the over­whelm­ing grief Thou expe­ri­enced when Thou wit­nessed The Mar­tyr­dom, The Cru­ci­fix­ion, and The Death of Thy Divine Son, look upon me with eyes of com­pas­sion and awaken in my heart a ten­der com­pas­sion for those suf­fer­ing, as well as a sin­cere detes­ta­tion of my sins, in order that, being dis­en­gaged from all undue affec­tions for the pass­ing joys of this earth, I may long for the Eter­nal Jerusalem, and that hence­forth all of my thoughts and all of my actions may be directed toward this one most desir­able object.

Honor, Glory, and Love to our Divine Lord Jesus, and to The Holy and Immac­u­late Mother of God. Amen.” 

(tak­en from:  http://www.marypages.com/PrayerstoMary.htm)

 

The text of this hymn forms the Sequence, read after the Epis­tle, Grad­ual, and Tract, on the Feast of the 7 Sor­rows of the Blessed Vir­gin Mary on Fri­day in Pas­sion Week (unless the Mass is a Votive Mass.

“STABAT Mater dolorosa
iux­ta Crucem lacrimosa,
dum pen­de­bat Filius.
AT, the Cross her sta­tion keeping,
stood the mourn­ful Moth­er weeping,
close to Jesus to the last.
Cuius ani­mam gementem,
con­tris­tatam et dolentem
per­tran­siv­it gladius.
Through her heart, His sor­row sharing,
all His bit­ter anguish bearing,
now at length the sword has passed.
O quam tris­tis et afflicta
fuit illa benedicta,
mater Unigeniti!
O how sad and sore distressed
was that Moth­er, high­ly blest,
of the sole-begot­ten One.
Quae maere­bat et dolebat,
pia Mater, dum videbat
nati poe­nas inclyti.
Christ above in tor­ment hangs,
she beneath beholds the pangs
of her dying glo­ri­ous Son.
Quis est homo qui non fleret,
matrem Christi si videret
in tan­to supplicio?
Is there one who would not weep,
whelmed in mis­eries so deep,
Christ’s dear Moth­er to behold?
Quis non pos­set contristari
Christi Matrem contemplari
dolen­tem cum Filio?
Can the human heart refrain
from par­tak­ing in her pain,
in that Moth­er’s pain untold?
Pro pec­ca­tis suae gentis
vid­it Iesum in tormentis,
et fla­gel­lis subditum.
Bruised, derid­ed, cursed, defiled,
she beheld her ten­der Child
All with bloody scourges rent:
Vid­it suum dul­cem Natum
morien­do desolatum,
dum emisit spiritum.
For the sins of His own nation,
saw Him hang in desolation,
Till His spir­it forth He sent.
Eia, Mater, fons amoris
me sen­tire vim doloris
fac, ut tecum lugeam.
O thou Moth­er! fount of love!
Touch my spir­it from above,
make my heart with thine accord:
Fac, ut ardeat cor meum
in aman­do Chris­tum Deum
ut sibi complaceam.
Make me feel as thou hast felt;
make my soul to glow and melt
with the love of Christ my Lord.
Sanc­ta Mater, istud agas,
cru­ci­fixi fige plagas
cor­di meo valide.
Holy Moth­er! pierce me through,
in my heart each wound renew
of my Sav­ior crucified:
Tui Nati vulnerati,
tam dig­nati pro me pati,
poe­nas mecum divide.
Let me share with thee His pain,
who for all my sins was slain,
who for me in tor­ments died.
Fac me tecum pie flere,
cru­ci­fixo condolere,
donec ego vixero.
Let me min­gle tears with thee,
mourn­ing Him who mourned for me,
all the days that I may live:
Iux­ta Crucem tecum stare,
et me tibi sociare
in planc­tu desidero.
By the Cross with thee to stay,
there with thee to weep and pray,
is all I ask of thee to give.
Vir­go vir­ginum praeclara,
mihi iam non sis amara,
fac me tecum plangere.
Vir­gin of all vir­gins blest!,
Lis­ten to my fond request:
let me share thy grief divine;
Fac, ut portem Christi mortem,
pas­sio­n­is fac consortem,
et pla­gas recolere.
Let me, to my lat­est breath,
in my body bear the death
of that dying Son of thine.
Fac me plagis vulnerari,
fac me Cruce inebriari,
et cruore Filii.
Wound­ed with His every wound,
steep my soul till it hath swooned,
in His very Blood away;
Flam­mis ne urar succensus,
per te, Vir­go, sim defensus
in die iudicii.
Be to me, O Vir­gin, nigh,
lest in flames I burn and die,
in His awful Judg­ment Day.
Christe, cum sit hinc exire,
da per Matrem me venire
ad pal­mam victoriae.
Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence,
by Thy Moth­er my defense,
by Thy Cross my victory;
Quan­do cor­pus morietur,
fac, ut ani­mae donetur
par­a­disi glo­ria. Amen.
While my body here decays,
may my soul Thy good­ness praise,
safe in par­adise with Thee. Amen.

From the Litur­gia Horarum. Trans­la­tion by Fr. Edward Caswall (1814–1878)

(Tak­en from https://www.preces-latinae.org/thesaurus/BVM/SMDolorosa.html)

 

OUR LADY OF RANSOM/MERCY:  Sep­tem­ber 24th;  Novena:  9/15–9/23:

 

THE MEMORARE:

Mem­o­rare, O Piisima Virgo Maria, non esse audi­tum a saeculo, quemquem ad Tua cur­rentem prae­sidia, Tua implo­ran­tem Aux­ilia, Tua peten­tem suf­fra­gia esse dere­lic­tum.  Ego tali ani­ma­tus con­fi­den­tia ad Te, Virgo Vir­ginum, Mater, curro; ad Te venio; coram Te gemens pec­ca­tor assisto.  Noli, Mater Verbi, verba mea despicere, sed audi pro­pi­tia et exaudi.  Amen.

 

Remem­ber, O Most Gra­cious Vir­gin Mary, that never was it known that any­one, who fled to Thy Pro­tec­tion, implored Thy Help, or sought Thine Inter­ces­sion, was left unaided.  Inspired with this con­fi­dence, I fly unto Thee, O Vir­gin of vir­gins, my Mother; to Thee do I come, before Thee I stand, sin­ful and sor­row­ful;  O Mother of The Word Incar­nate, despise not my peti­tions, but in Thy Mercy hear and answer me.  (Rac­colta #339)

SALVE, REGINA / HAIL, HOLY QUEEN

Salve, Regina, Mater Mis­eri­cor­diae, Vita, Dul­cedo, et Spes nos­tra, salve.  Ad Te cla­ma­mus exsules filii Hevae; ad Te sus­pi­ra­mus gementes et flentes in hac lacry­marum valle.  Eia ergo, Advo­cata nos­tra, illos Tuos Mis­eri­cordes Ocu­los ad nos con­verte.  Et Jesum, Bene­dic­tum Fruc­tum Ven­tris Tui, nobis post hoc exsil­ium ostende, O Clemens, O Pia, O Dul­cis Virgo Maria! 

Hail, Holy Queen, Mother of Mercy, hail, our Life, our Sweet­ness, and our Hope.  To Thee do we cry, poor ban­ished chil­dren of Eve:  to Thee do we sigh, mourn­ing and weep­ing in this vale of tears.  Ah, then, our Advo­cate, turn Thine Eyes of Mercy toward us, and after this, our exile, show unto us The Blessed Fruit of Thy Womb, Jesus, O Mer­ci­ful, O Lov­ing, O Sweet Vir­gin Mary!

(ex. Bre­var­ium Romano & Rac­colta #332)

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