Zal dusze sciska, serce bolesc czuje,
Gdy slodki Jezus, na smierc sie gotuje:
Kleczyc w Ogrojcu, gdy krwawy pot leje,
Serce me mdleje.
Pana swietosci uczen zly caluje,
Zolnierz okrutny powrozmi krepuje,
Jezus tym wiezom dla nas sie poddaje,
Na smierc wydaje.
Bije, popycha tlum nieposkromiony,
Nielitosciwie z tej i owej strony,
Za wlosy targa; znosi w cierpliwosci,
Krol z wysokosci.
Zsiniale przedtem, krwia zachodza usta,
Gdy zbrojna zolnierz rekawica chlusta,
Wnet sie zmienilo w placzliwe wzdychanie,
Serce kochanie.
Oby sie serce we lzy rozplywalo,
Ze Cie moj Jezu, sprosnie obrazalo,
Zal mi, ach! Zal mi! ciezkich moich zlosci,
Dla Twej milosci. |
Sorrow afflicts me, my heart bleeds with pain.
As Sweet Jesus prepares himself for death.
Drenched in bloody sweat, The cup He accepts,
On death he reflects.
Soldiers approach Him while Judas draws near.
To kiss his Master, without shame or fear.
Like hungry wild wolves, they betray our Lord,
Betray our Savior.
The rabble frenzied with fury and hate, Strike blows,
Push, kick Him; lead Him through the gate.
They spit in His face and pull on His hair,
The meek King of the Highest.
One soldier in arms lifts his iron fists,
At the sacred Face blood purples Christ's lips.
Tenderly His eyes look up filled with tears,
The Beloved Heart looks at the crowd who jeers.
Let my heart of stone be smitten with grief,
O my sweet Jesus, cure my unbelief.
I'm sorry, Jesus, for offending You.
My God, I love You. |
