Jesus Dies On The Cross

Look, devout soul, look to Calvary, whereon are raised two altars of sacrifice, one on the body of Jesus, the other on the heart of Mary. Sad is the sight of that dear Mother drowned in a sea of woe, seeing her beloved Son, part of her very self, cruelly nailed to the shameful tree of the Cross.

Ah me ! How every blow of the hammer, how every stripe which fell on the Savior's form, fell also in the disconsolate spirit of the Virgin. As she stood at the foot of the Cross, pierced by the sword of sorrow, she turned her eyes on him, until she knew that he lived no longer and had resigned his spirit to his Eternal Father. Then her own soul was like to have joined itself to that of Jesus.

Mother of Sorrows, who would not leave Calvary until you had drunk the last drop of the chalice of your woe, how great is my confusion of face, that I so often refuse to take up my cross, and in all ways endeavor to avoid those slight sufferings which the Lord, for my good, is pleased to send upon me. Obtain for me, I pray you, that I may see clearly the value of suffering, and may be enabled, if not to cry with St. Francis Xavier, "More to suffer, my God! Ah, more !" At least to bear meekly all my crosses and trials. Amen.

Hail Mary. Virgin Most Sorrowful, pray for us.