When Our Heads are Bow’d with Woe

WHEN our heads are bow’d with woe,
When our bitter tears o’erflow,
When we mourn the lost, the dear,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Thou, our throbbing flesh hast worn;
Thou, our mortal griefs hast borne;
Thou hast shed the human tear;
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

When the sullen death-bell tolls
For our own departed souls;
When our final doom is near,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Thou hast bow’d the dying head;
Thou the blood of life hast shed;
Thou hast fill’d a mortal bier;
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

When the heart is sad within,
With the thought of all its sin;
When the spirit shrinks with fear,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Thou, the shame, the grief hast known;
Though the sins were not Thine own,
Thou hast deign’d their load to bear;
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Henry Hart Milman (1791 – 1868)

 

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