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MARGARET'S PRAYER TO THE MATER DOLOROSA.
59
Woe, woe!Where'er I go,Woe fills this bosom dull and deep;Scarce am I left alone ere flowThe bitter streams. I weep, I weep!Forlorn and achingI feel the heart within me breaking.
I cull'd at dawn for Thee these flowersFrom stems around my casement creeping,They were water'd with the showersOf my helpless hopeless weeping.
Through the chamber bright and redShone the sunbeams in on me,Where already up in bedSate I in my misery.
Oh, save me! saveFrom shame, and from the grave!Oh, bend thy face,Thou rich in agonies!Oh, look with graceOn my necessities!
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