Stabat Mater
They have
stripped Him of His vestments, from the shame of which stripping His Human
Nature shrank inexpressibly. To His Mother, the indignity was a torture in
itself, and the unveiled sight of Her Son’s Heart the while was a horror and a
woe words cannot tell. They have laid Him on the Cross, a harder bed than the
Crib of Bethlehem in which He first was laid. He gives Himself into their hands
with as much docility as a weary child whom his mother is gently preparing for
his rest. It seems, and it really was so, as if it was His own will, rather
than theirs, which was being fulfilled. Beautiful in His disfigurement,
venerable in His shame, the Everlasting God lay upon the Cross, with His eyes
gently fixed on Heaven.
Never, Mary thought, had He looked more worthy of
worship, more manifestly God, than now when He lay outstretched there, a
powerless but willing victim, and she worshiped Him with profoundest
adoration. The executioners now lay His right arm and hand out upon the Cross.
They apply the rough nail to the palm of His Hand, the Hand out of which the
world’s graces flow, and the first dull knock of the hammer is heard in the
silence. The trembling of excessive pain passes over His sacred limbs, but does
not dislodge the sweet expression from His eyes. Now blow follows blow, and is
echoed faintly from somewhere. The Magdalene and John hold their ears, for the
sound is unendurable; it is worse than if the iron hammer were falling on their
living hearts. Mary hears it all. The hammer is falling upon her living heart,
for her love had long since been dead to self, and only lived in Him. She
looked upward to heaven. She could not speak. Words would have said nothing;
The Father alone understood the offering of that heart, now broken so many times.
To her the Nailing was not one action. Each knock was a separate martyrdom.
Faber, Fr.
Frederick William (2015-02-14). The Foot of the Cross with Mary: or The Sorrows
of Mary (Kindle Locations 3977-3991). KIC. Kindle Edition.
Prayer to
Our Lady of Sorrows
By St.
Bridget
O Blessed
Virgin Mary, Immaculate Mother of God, who didst endure a martyrdom of love and
grief, beholding the sufferings and sorrows of Jesus! Thou didst co-operate in
the benefit of my redemption by thy innumerable afflictions and by offering to
the Eternal Father His only-begotten Son as a holocaust and victim of
propitiation for my sins. I thank thee for the unspeakable love which led thee
to deprive thyself of the Fruit of thy womb, Jesus, true God and true Man, to
save me, a sinner. Oh! Make use of the unfailing intercession of thy sorrows
with the Father and the Son, that I may steadfastly amend my life and never
again crucify my loving Redeemer by new sins; arid that, persevering till death
in His grace, I may obtain eternal life through the merits of His Cross and
Passion. Amen.
Mother of
love, of sorrow, and of mercy, pray for us.
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