Pietà

Behold, sinner, He who was wounded for your transgressions,
Lying limply in the grasp of His most holy mother, who weeps for her loss
As the final sword pierces her heart.
Mary most holy gave her son,
The Son of God, over to you
As you commit daily
Those sins which inflict the sorrow she holds in the person of the dead Christ.
They loved you so much, both foreknowing and having no knowledge,
That each was content that the Christ of God should die
That you would be healed.
Think of it, sinner.
Think of the love so great it should have been pleased to die
For you only,
But that was instead pleased to die that all might live.
The Love which was pleased to die that all
Might receive that most precious gift of life,
That life to which Love calls us every day,
For His sake.
And for ours.