During his life on earth, Christ offered up prayer and entreaty, aloud and in silent tears, to the one who had the power to save him out of death, and he submitted so humbly that his prayer was heard. Although he was Son, he learnt to obey through suffering; but having been made perfect, he became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation.

Save me, O Lord, in your love.

In you, O Lord, I take refuge.
  Let me never be put to shame.
In your justice, set me free,
  hear me and speedily rescue me.

Save me, O Lord, in your love.

Be a rock of refuge for me,
  a mighty stronghold to save me,
for you are my rock, my stronghold.
  For your name’s sake, lead me and guide me.

Save me, O Lord, in your love.

Release me from the snares they have hidden
  for you are my refuge, Lord.
Into your hands I commend my spirit.
  It is you who will redeem me, Lord.

Save me, O Lord, in your love.

But as for me, I trust in you, Lord;
  I say: ‘You are my God.
My life is in your hands, deliver me
  from the hands of those who hate me.’

Save me, O Lord, in your love.

How great is the goodness, Lord,
  that you keep for those who fear you,
that you show to those who trust you
  in the sight of men.

Save me, O Lord, in your love.

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 had passed.

Oh, how sad and sore distressed
was that Mother highly blessed
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?

Bruised, derided, cursed, defiled,
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 you Mother, fount of love!
Touch my spirit from above,
make my heart with yours accord:

make me feel as you have felt;
make my soul to glow and melt
with the love of Christ our Lord.

Holy Mother, pierce me through;
in my heart each wound renew
of my Saviour crucified.

Let me share with you his pain
who for all our sins was slain,
who for me in torments died.

Let me mingle tears with you,
mourning him who mourned for me
all the days that I may live:

by the cross with you to stay,
there with you to weep and pray,
is all I ask of you to give.

Virgin of all virgins best,
listen to my fond request:
let me share your grief divine;

let me to my latest breath,
in my body bear the death
of that dying Son of yours.

Wounded with his every wound,
steep my soul till it has swooned
in his very blood away;

be to me, O Virgin, nigh,
lest in flames I burn and die
in his awful judgement day.

Christ, when you shall call me hence,
be your Mother my defence,
be your cross my victory.

While my body here decays,
may my soul your goodness praise,
safe in paradise with you.

Alleluia, alleluia!
Happy is the Virgin Mary,
who, without dying,
won the palm of martyrdom
beneath the cross of the Lord.
Alleluia!