Station Hymn

Thy slayers, dear Jesus, we kneel round Thy cross,
Poor Adam’s sad children, we mourn here our loss,
Till words that release us fall softly as dew:
“Kind Father, forgive, Thy know not what they do.”

When stern justice darkens Thy path at the goal,
Though finished Thy labor, commended Thy soul;
With new hope we hearken to Thy message mild:
“Behold, son, thy Mother; see Mother thy child.”

Through darkness appalling come accents of grace.
Like him on Thy right, Lord, I’m seeking Thy Face;
And hear Thy sweet calling to him and to me:
“This day shalt thou with Me in Paradise be.”

Brothers of the Christian Schools, The De La Salle Hymnal (New York: La Salle Bureau, 1913).

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