CHAPTER XVII Of the Armorial bearings of Christ, the Cross, the Nails, the Spear, and the Crown of Thorns
CHAPTER XVII
Of the Armorial bearings of Christ, the Cross, the Nails, the Spear, and the Crown of Thorns
I BLESS Thee, and give thanks to Thee, O Lord Jesus Christ, King of all kings; for the triumphant insignia of Thy Royalty, to wit, the Cross, the Nails, the Spear, the Crown of Thorns, the Reed, the Cord, the Pillar (to which Thou wast bound, and wast then cruelly scourged after Thou hadst been stripped naked), and for all the other instruments of torture and accessories of Thy sacred Passion. It was for us miserable sinners that Thou didst endure it, to the intent that Thou mightest thereby confound the devil and the lovers of this world with all its pomps and vanities; that Thou mightest show mercy and grant forgiveness of sins to all who truly repent and believe in Thee; and that Thou mightest win for them, after the general Resurrection of the dead (when every one must be judged, both just and unjust), the hope of eternal salvation and the glorious bliss of Heaven with Thy Holy Angels.
Then shall appear great signs in Heaven and on earth, and then shall be displayed the Wounds of Thy sacred Passion, with the Standard of the Cross, and the other achievements of Thy escutcheon; full of joy and comfort shall they be to the saved, but to the lost full of terror and dismay. Then shall all the elect rejoice exceedingly; the lowly, the innocent, the devout, the chaste, the simple, the obedient, the meek; those who have often suffered wrong for Thy Name’s sake; those who in their meditations have often mourned over Thy Passion and sacred Wounds, as if they had themselves endured Them, and have thanked Thee fervently for Them all. Then too shall greatly fear and lament for themselves the proud, the covetous, the envious, the gluttonous; those who give themselves up to fleshly lusts; those who seldom or never meditate upon Thy. Passion and Thy Wounds; those who never compassionate Them, but prefer thinking about their own gain and advantage to pondering Thy benefits and Thy cruel Wounds.
From such perverse and unthankful men keep me, O Lord; and number me with the pure and innocent sheep of Thy flock, for whom, in Thy love, Thou didst vouchsafe to be crucified, to die, and to be wounded with many Wounds.
O most gentle Jesus, clothe me with the power of Thy might, invest me with the sacred badges of Thy most cruel Passion, that everywhere and at all times I may be sustained against the snares and the temptations of the evil spirit, who assails me on the right hand and on the left in a thousand different ways and manners, all of them bad and wicked. To Thy Passion then, O Lord, do I humbly fly for refuge; and heartily do I pray that of Thee I may be comforted and powerfully assisted.
O loving Jesus, our Helper and Defender in all the trials and temptations of this imperfect life, raise high, I pray Thee, before my eyes the royal standard of Thy holy Cross, the sign of eternal salvation, the Sceptre of Thy Godhead, the shield and the bow of Thy Manhood, the impregnable fortress, the most dread thunderbolt, the most sharp javelin against the roaring and the onslaught of the devil; against the din of the world and the incitements of the flesh; against vices of every kind and every evil thought; against that spirit of blasphemy and utter despair, which longs to overwhelm me, and would so often withhold me from invoking Thy most sweet Name, O Jesus, and those of Thy holy Mother Mary and of Thy Saints; that tries to blacken the story of their lives and their good report; and what is yet worse, would entice from the right faith one who is a true believer, and keep him from venerating and from loving Thy holy Cross.
May Thy Cross, O Jesus, Thou mightiest of kings, be to me salvation, peace, and life; a shield, a sword and a spear; a strong tower against the face of the enemy; an impregnable wall against the deceit of the old serpent; a light in the house; a guide in the path; a sure defence within and without, above and below, in all the many stumbling-blocks and dangers which everywhere beset me. May Thy sweet and beloved Cross be to me rest in labour, comfort in sorrow, medicine in sickness, ointment in pain; may it be to me my protection when I am alone, my safeguard when I am with others, my light in darkness, my gladness at mid-day; and at eventide may it be to me praise and honour, power and glory. May Thy lovely and glorious Cross be to me in bitterness sweetness; in sickness health; in my agony steadfast faith; in the hour of my departure my one hope; at the day of judgement my support; from Hell my safeguard; from all its pains my warrant of discharge; into the glories of Heaven my passport with the holy Angels.
Further, in all my troubles thrust into me, I pray Thee, O patient Jesus, those holy Nails, which as Thou hangedst on the Cross were so cruelly driven into Thee. May They be to me as keepers of my heart, of my lips and of all my senses; may They be my defence against the evil spirits, of whom by day and by night I am in fear: on seeing the image of Thy Nails may those spirits flee from me as if they were sharp arrows, and let me rest in Thy peace, or pray, or earnestly meditate on the anguish caused by Them when They were in the Body of Jesus Christ, my Lord; may those spirits not dare to vex me with vile imaginations as I meditate on the sacred Wounds, so cruel and so deep, Which Thou didst endure in Thy Hands and in Thy Feet.
Thrust also, I pray Thee, into my side, whether I am waking or sleeping, that holy and sharp Spear with which after Thy death Thou wast so cruelly pierced; may it keep my heart, so that inwardly compassionating Thee, I may hang with Thee upon the Cross, and may eschew what is earthly, may shut my eyes to all unprofitable things, and may fix my thoughts wholly upon the things of God, and upon Thy sacred Wounds. So wound my heart, I pray Thee, O my God, that nothing that is impure may find a home in it.
O Jesus Christ, supreme object of love, sure Hope of believers, Strength of those who fight, the victors’ Crown, Wisdom of the wise, and Light of the ignorant, show, I pray Thee, to me, who am an exile in the prison-house of the flesh, that holy and blessed Crown of Thorns Which in mockery was so cruelly forced and pressed down upon Thy sacred Head, while Thy most holy Blood was trickling down on all sides from the many Wounds which it caused. May the copious stream of Blood caused by this holy but most cruel of crowns be to me a complete washing away of all my sins; may it draw from my eyes a flood of tears; may it soften unawares the hardness of my heart. May the remembrance of this holy and blessed Crown ever present with me, and its picture ever vividly stamped upon my mind; may the contemplation of Thy Wounds and the thought of the terrible pain which they caused Thee, drive out of my mind all evil things, and all unclean thoughts, and chase away and put an end to whatever it is that troubles me. A violent headache suppresses all bodily desires. May then pain such as Thou didst feel when the cruel Crown of Thorns was first pressed down upon Thy Head take possession of me; may it find a place in the inmost recesses of my heart; may it vibrate through my every limb, may it rack me with pain, and purge away from my soul all the filth which by a long course of foolishness I have allowed to settle there. May it break down and annihilate in me every inordinate desire; may it turn into dust everything that seems to me lovely, and into dirt everything that seems to me precious: may it turn into rottenness all that now seems flourishing; may it turn all that now seems delightful into wormwood of the bitterest, everything joyous into wailing, everything laughable and jocose into derision and contempt.
How beautiful is the world to come, and how splendid will be the crown of heavenly glory that will be given to the chaste and devout soul, which in this world often and sadly meditates upon the Crown of Thorns of Jesus, and ever keeps in mind and mourns over his cruel Wounds. I believe, O Lord, that at the hour of death such a soul will, when quitting this weary life, have great hope of forgiveness and feel sure of obtaining mercy, if it keep ever in remembrance Thy sacred Passion.
For the sake, therefore, O Lord, of each of Thy Wounds, forgive me too, I pray Thee, all my sins, whether they be of my life past or those which I daily commit, even as Thou didst forgive, solely of Thy grace and mercy, those of holy Mary Magdalene, who shed many tears at the thought of her sins, and particularly at the thought of the sacred Wounds endured by Thee at Thy Passion, on account of our sins which are, alas, so many and so grievous. Thy love and Thy mercy, O most merciful Jesus, have far outweighed all our sins whether new or old, by reason of Thy bowels of mercy and the thousand thousand stripes of the Wounds which Thou didst so patiently endure at the hands of wicked men; and all these were seen by Thy holy Mother, and by Thy dearly loved Mary Magdalene, with their own eyes, and were by them bedewed with many tears.
Rend then, O Lord, my heart still further with the thought of Thy scourging, and of Thy tight binding with cords to the stony pillar, before the eyes of the crowd that mocked and derided Thee, that pitied Thee not, that had no sense of shame, but longed to tear Thee with their teeth as if they had been mad dogs worrying a harmless sheep; that piled stripes upon stripes, and added anguish to anguish, while not a murmur passed Thy lips, no, not even a cry “Alas, alas, why do ye scourge me so cruelly?”
O how great, how unspeakable was Thy patience, O Lord Jesus, in enduring such torments, such bleeding wounds; and all in order that Thou mightest pay the penalty of my sins! It was I, O Lord, who had sinned; it was in my stead that Thou wast scourged. It was I who had wrought iniquity; it was I who in so many ways and so often had offended; it was Thou Who hadst done no wrong at all, Who wast unjustly condemned by the ungodly. I often laugh about nothing, and Thou by base men art made a laughing-stock. I like to strut in fine clothes, but Thou hangest naked between thieves. I have good food and drink; but to Thee upon the Altar of the Cross are offered bitter gall and vinegar. I have a soft bed to sleep upon; but Thou art buried as an outlaw in a tomb of hardest rock. Often do I pass Thy Cross without shedding a tear; but Mary Magdalene and the other holy women never ceased to weep till they saw Thee rising from the dead, and could fall low and clasp Thy sacred Feet.
Give me grace, O loving Jesus, to meditate on these things, and with holy Mary Magdalene, who loved Thee so well, and with Thy other disciples so to weep, that at the last day, when the trumpet shall sound, I may be found worthy to rise in glory, and to find a place with Thine elect in the Kingdom of everlasting bliss. Amen.
May Thy most glorious escutcheon, O Lord Jesus Christ, be my sure defence, both within and without, against all the darts of the enemy, and against all the flatteries and frowns of this deceitful world.