Seven Sorrows of the Blessed Virgin Mary Novena – Fifth Day

See mother, I make all things new...

SEVEN SORROWS OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY NOVENA

Day 5

Mary's Fourth Sword of Sorrow: She Meets Jesus Carrying His Cross

The time was at hand when mankind's redemption was to be accomplished. Already the divine Victim of our sins is bearing the instrument of our salvation. Torn by the cruel scourging, crowned with thorns, and covered with blood He proceeds on His way to Calvary, and in this pitiful condition meets His blessed Mother. What a spectacle, what a sight for a Mother such as Mary! Anxious to look upon her, and with one fond glance to thank her for her heroic, unselfish love, He made an effort to change His bowed position beneath the cross, feebly raised His head, and directed toward her one loving glance of ineffable anguish, mingled with grateful recognition and humble resignation. Then the sad procession moves on, Mary following her divine Son on His way to death.

Reflection

St. Bernardine says, that to form an idea of the greatness of Mary’s grief in losing her Jesus by death, we must consider the love that this Mother bore to her Son. All mothers feel the sufferings of their children as their own. Hence, when the Canaanitish woman entreated our Saviour to deliver her daughter from the devil that tormented her, she asked Him rather to pity her, the mother, than her daughter: “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Thou Son of David, my daughter is grievously troubled by a devil.” But what mother ever loved her son as Mary loved Jesus? He was her only Son, reared amidst so many troubles; a most amiable Son, and tenderly loving His Mother; a Son who, at the same time that He was her Son, was also her God, who had come on earth to enkindle in the hearts of all the fire of Divine love, as He Himself declared: “I am come to cast fire on the earth, and what will I but that it be kindled?” Let us only imagine what a flame He must have enkindled in that pure heart of His holy Mother, void as it was of every earthly affection. In fine, the Blessed Virgin herself told Saint Bridget, ‘that love had rendered her heart and that of her Son but one.’ That blending together of Servant and Mother, of Son and God, created in the heart of Mary a fire composed of a thousand flames.

Hail Mary

Hail Mary full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Novena Prayer

Ever glorious Blessed Virgin Mary, queen of martyrs, mother of mercy, hope, and comfort of dejected and desolate souls, through the sorrows that pierced thy tender heart I beseech thee take pity on my poverty and necessities, have compassion on my anxieties and miseries. I ask it through the mercy of thy divine Son; I ask it through His immaculate life, bitter passion, and ignominious death on the cross. As I am persuaded that He honors thee as His beloved Mother, to whom He refuses nothing, let me experience the efficacy of thy powerful intercession, according to the tenderness of thy maternal affection, now and at the hour of my death. Amen.

The Stabat Mater

Stabat mater dolorosa

juxta Crucem lacrimosa,

dum pendebat Filius.

Cuius animam gementem,

contristatam et dolentem

pertransivit gladius.

O quam tristis et afflicta

fuit illa benedicta,

mater Unigeniti!

Quae mœrebat et dolebat,

pia Mater, dum videbat

nati pœnas inclyti.

Quis est homo qui non fleret,

matrem Christi si videret

in tanto supplicio?

Quis non posset contristari

Christi Matrem contemplari

dolentem cum Filio?

Pro peccatis suæ gentis

vidit Iesum in tormentis,

et flagellis subditum.

Vidit suum dulcem Natum

moriendo desolatum,

dum emisit spiritum.

Eia, Mater, fons amoris

me sentire vim doloris

fac, ut tecum lugeam.

Fac, ut ardeat cor meum

in amando Christum Deum

ut sibi complaceam.

Sancta Mater, istud agas,

crucifixi fige plagas

cordi meo valide.

Tui Nati vulnerati,

tam dignati pro me pati,

pœnas mecum divide.

Fac me tecum pie flere,

crucifixo condolere,

donec ego vixero.

Juxta Crucem tecum stare,

et me tibi sociare

in planctu desidero.

Virgo virginum præclara,

mihi iam non sis amara,

fac me tecum plangere.

Fac, ut portem Christi mortem,

passionis fac consortem,

et plagas recolere.

Fac me plagis vulnerari,

fac me Cruce inebriari,

et cruore Filii.

Flammis ne urar succensus,

per te, Virgo, sim defensus

in die iudicii.

Christe, cum sit hinc exire,

da per Matrem me venire

ad palmam victoriæ.

Quando corpus morietur,

fac, ut animæ donetur

paradisi gloria. Amen.

At the Cross her station

At the Cross her station keeping,

stood the mournful Mother weeping,

close to her Son to the last.

Through her heart, His sorrow sharing,

all His bitter anguish bearing,

now at length the sword has passed.

O how sad and sore distressed

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,

whelmed 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?

For the sins of His own nation,

She saw Jesus wracked with torment,

All with scourges rent:

She beheld her tender Child,

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 Savior 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 mourned 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 swooned,

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 defense,

be Thy Cross my victory;

While my body here decays,

may my soul Thy goodness praise,

Safe in Paradise with Thee.