And Mary stood beside the cross! Her soul
Pierced with the self-same wound that rent His side
Who hung thereon. She watched Him, as He died.
Her son! Saw Him paying the cruel toll
Exacted by the law, and unbelief,
Since He their evil will had dared defy.
There stood the mother helpless in her grief,
Beside the cross, and saw her first-born die!

How many mothers in how many lands
Have bowed with Mary in her agony,
In silence borne the wrath of war's commands,
When every hill is made a Calvary!

O pity, Lord, these mothers of the slain,
And grant their dead shall not have died in vain.

And Mary stood beside the cross! Her soul
Pierced with the self-same wound that rent His side
Who hung thereon. She watched Him, as He died.
Her son! Saw Him paying the cruel toll
Exacted by the law, and unbelief,
Since He their evil will had dared defy.
There stood the mother helpless in her grief,
Beside the cross, and saw her first-born die!

How many mothers in how many lands
Have bowed with Mary in her agony,
In silence borne the wrath of war's commands,
When every hill is made a Calvary!

O pity, Lord, these mothers of the slain,
And grant their dead shall not have died in vain.