text_original: O Christ of the seven wounds, who look'dst through the dark To the face of thy mother! consider, I pray. How we common mothers stand desolate, mark, Whose sons, not being Christs, die with eyes turned away, And no last word to say!
text_transcription: O CHRIST OF THE SEVEN WOUNDS WHO LOOKS THROUGH THE DARK TO THE FACE OF THY MOTHER CONSIDER I PRAY HOW WE COMMON MOTHERS STAND DESOLATE MARK WHOSE SONS NOT BEING CHRIST'S DIE WITH EYES TURNED AWAY AND NO LAST WORD TO SAY
phonemes: ˈoʊ kɹˈaɪst ʌvðə sˈɛvən wˈuːndz, hˌuː lˈʊkdst θɹuː ðə dˈɑːɹk tə ðə fˈeɪs ʌv ðˌaɪ mˈʌðɚ! kənsˈɪdɚ, aɪ pɹˈeɪ. hˌaʊ wiː kˈɑːmən mˈʌðɚz stˈænd dˈɛsələt, mˈɑːɹk, hˌuːz sˈʌnz, nˌɑːt bˌiːɪŋ kɹˈaɪsts, dˈaɪ wɪð ˈaɪz tˈɜːnd ɐwˈeɪ, ænd nˈoʊ lˈæst wˈɜːd tə sˈeɪ!