This is Pieta by William Adolphe Bouguereau.
I saw this work once at the Dallas Museum of Art. I was not yet a Christian, but I was staggered by the agony on Mary's face. She held the pallid, lifeless body of her son. The angels, too, mourn. They they do not have Mary's despair. It is the wailing, exhausted anguish of a mother who has lost a child. The angels that surround her and the dead Christ know of the great victory that will come on the third day. To them, having heavenly knowledge, Christ was not a defeated savior, but the victor in the final struggle over sin and its inevitable consequence, death.
The time of rejoicing draws near....
Grant, Lord, when I interred may be,
Peace and tranquility may reign,
Until I see Thy face again.
A source of holy joy I find,
That He was to a grave consigned.
He sanctified the tomb for us
And made its shadows glorious.
He made the tomb a resting place
For those who know His saving grace.
No terrors now the grave can hold
For those whom His strong arms enfold.
Blessed Lord Jesus, grant my prayer,
That I may die without a care,
That I may take my last long rest
By Thy sweet presence ever blessed!
--Hallgrimur Petursson in the Passiusalmar