The prayers
of
THE HOURS OF THE PASSION OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST
1ST HOUR
From 5 to 6 PM
Jesus takes leave of His Most Holy Mother
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
Prayer of Preparation
O heavenly Mother, the hour of separation draws near, and I come to You,
O Mother, give me your love, your reparations, and your sorrows. Together
with You, I want to follow adored Jesus step by step.
Here Jesus comes. With your soul overflowing with love, you run to meet
him. But your heart aches with grief to see him so pale and sad. Your strength
fades away, and you are about to fall at his feet. O my sweet Mama, do You
know why adorable Jesus has come to You? Ah, He has come to say good-bye to
You for the last time, to impart His last Word, to share with you this last
embrace! O Mother, I cling to You with all the tenderness of which my poor
heart is capable, so that holding You tightly, I too may receive the embraces
of adored Jesus. Would you perhaps look down on me, or isn't it perhaps a
comfort to your heart to have a soul near you, to share your pains, affections
and reparations?
Jesus, in this hour so bitter for your tender Heart, what instruction You
give us of innocent, loving obedience to your Mother! What a sweet enchantment
of love rises up to the throne of the Eternal One, extending salvation to
all creatures of the earth!
O my heavenly Mama, do You know what adored Jesus wants from You? Nothing
but your last blessing. From every particle of your being only blessings and
praises flow to your Creator; but, in taking leave of You, Jesus wants to
hear the sweet words, I bless You, O Son. That I bless You deflects every
blasphemy from his hearing and descends sweetly and gently into his Heart.
Jesus wants your “I bless You” to shield against all the offenses of creatures.
I too join with you, O sweet mother. On the wings of the wind, I want to
travel through heaven to ask the Father, the Holy Spirit, all the angels for
an I bless you for Jesus, so that, going to him, I can bring their blessings.
I want to go to all creatures here on earth and ask from every whisper, heartbeat,
step, breath, glance, thought, and word—blessings and praises for Jesus. And,
if anyone does not want to give them to me, I will do it on their behalf.
O sweet Mama, after going round and round, to ask the Most Holy Trinity,
the Angels, all creatures, the light of the sun, the fragrance of the flowers,
the waves of the sea, every breath of wind, every spark of fire, every moving
leaf, the twinkling of the stars, every movement of nature, for an “I bless
You”, I come to You and I place all my blessings together with yours. My sweet
Mother, I see that You are comforted by them, and I offer Jesus all my blessings
to atone for the blasphemies and curses that He receives from creatures.
But, while I offer You everything, I hear your trembling voice saying, “Son,
bless Me too!” My sweet Love, bless me with your Mother. Bless my thoughts,
my heart, my hands, my steps, my deeds, and—with your Mother—all creatures.
O my Mother, You gaze upon the Sorrowful Face of Jesus, so pale, sad, and
tormented, and You envision the sorrow that He will soon have to suffer. You
see his Face covered with spit, and You bless It. You foresee his face covered
with spit and you bless it. You see his head pierced by thorns, his eyes
blindfolded, his body tortured by lashings, his hands and feet pierced by
nails, and you follow him with your blessings everywhere he is about to go.
And I too will follow Him together with You. When Jesus is struck with the
whips, pierced by the nails, slapped, crowned with thorns, he will find my
I bless you everywhere, together with yours. O Jesus, O mother, I give you
compassion.
Your sorrow is immense in these last moments. It seems that the heart of
one rends the heart of the other. O mother, tear my heart from the earth and
bind it tightly to Jesus, so that pressed to him, I can take part in your
pains. And being between your two hearts, I will receive your last kisses
and your last embraces while you look at each other for the last time. Don’t
You see that I cannot be without You, in spite of my misery and my coldness?
Jesus, Mama, keep me close to You; give me your love, your Will. Pierce my
poor heart with arrows, and hold me in your arms. Together with you, O sweet
mother, I want to follow adorable Jesus step by step, with the intention of
giving him comfort, relief, love and reparation for everyone.
O Jesus, with your Mother, I kiss your left foot, and I beg You to forgive
me and all creatures for the many times we have not walked toward God. [Glory
be to the Father, etc.].
I kiss your right foot. Forgive me and everyone for the many times we have
not sought the perfection that You desired for us. [Glory be to the Father,
etc.]
I kiss your left hand. Communicate your purity to us. [Glory be to the Father,
etc.]
I kiss your right hand. Bless all my heartbeats, thoughts, and affections
so that all may be confirmed by your blessing, and all may be sanctified.
And as you bless me, bless all creatures as well, and seal the salvation of
their souls with your blessing. [Glory be to the Father, etc.]
O Jesus, I embrace You together with your Mama, and kissing your Heart,
I pray You to place my heart between your two Hearts, that it may be nourished
continuously by your love, by your sorrows, by your very affections and desires,
and by your own Life. Amen. [Glory be ...]
Reflections and Practices.
Reflections and applications regarding the Hours of the Passion, so that
we may copy the life of Jesus within ourselves, aligning our life with His
in everything: His breath, His heartbeat, etc. so that He once again lives
among His creatures.
Before entering his Passion, Jesus goes to his Mother to ask for her blessing
In this act he teaches us how we must be obedient, with both interior and
exterior obedience, in order to correspond to the inspirations of grace. Sometimes
we are not ready to put into practice a good inspiration, either because
we are held back by love of self united to temptation, or because of human
respect, or in order not to use holy violence on ourselves. But rejecting
the good inspiration of exercising a virtue, of accomplishing a virtuous
act, of doing a good work, or of practicing a devotion, makes the Lord withdraw,
depriving us of new inspirations. On the other hand, the prompt correspondence,
pious and prudent, to holy inspirations attracts more lights and graces upon
us. In the cases of doubt, one should turn promptly and with righteous intention
to the great means of prayer and to upright and experienced advice.
In this way, God will never withhold light from our souls so that we can
pursue our good inspirations and multiply them, reaping the greatest possible
benefits. Our prayers, actions, and the Hours of the Passion should be done
with Jesus’ own intention his Will, sacrificing ourselves as He did for the
glory of the Father and for the good of all souls. We should be disposed to
sacrifice ourselves in everything out of love for our beloved Jesus, surrendering
to his Spirit, acting with his own sentiments, and abandoning ourselves to
Him—not only in all our sorrows and external misfortunes, but even more in
our interior lives. In this way, in any situation, we will be ready to suffer.
When we act in this spirit, we give our Jesus little sips of sweetness. If
all that we do remains in the Will of God—which contains all sweetness and
delight to an infinite degree—we will console the Divine Heart of Jesus and
give Him big sips of sweetness to ease the effects of the poison that other
creatures give Him.
Before starting any action, let us always invoke the blessing of God, so
that our actions may have the touch of the Divinity, and may attract His blessings
not only on us, but upon all creatures.
My Jesus, may your blessing precede me, accompany me and follow me, so that
everything I do may carry the seal of your I bless you.
(Personal Offering and Thanksgiving)
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
2nd HOUR
From 6 P.M. to 7 P.M.
Jesus leaves his most holy mother and goes to the supper room.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
My adorable Jesus, as I have shared in your sufferings together with You,
and in those of your afflicted Mama, I see that You are about to leave to
go there, where the Will of the Father calls You. The love between mother
and son is so intense that it makes you inseparable; and so you leave yourself
in the heart of your mother, and the sweet mother and queen leaves herself
in you. Otherwise it would be impossible for you to separate. So, blessing
each other, you give her your last kiss to strengthen her in the bitter pain
she is about to suffer. You tell her good bye for the last time, and leave.
But the paleness of your face, your trembling lips, your suffocated voice,
as though wanting to burst into tears in saying good bye ah, everything tells
me how much You love Her and how much You suffer in leaving Her! But to fulfill
the Will of the Father, with your Hearts fused into each other, You submit
Yourselves to everything, wanting to repair for those who, unwilling to overcome
the tendernesses of relatives and friends, and bonds and attachments, do not
care about fulfilling the Holy Will of God and corresponding to the state
of sanctity to which God calls them.
What pain these souls give You by rejecting your love and by contenting
themselves with the love of creatures! My sweet Love, while I make reparation
with You, let me stay with your Mother. Let me console Her and support Her
while You leave. Later, I will hurry my steps to catch up to You. But, oh,
what sorrow I feel, seeing my anguished mother tremble! And while she tries
to say good-bye to her son, her sorrow is so great that her voice dies on
her lips and she cannot even pronounce a word. In her swoon of love, She
almost faints. She cries, “My Son, my Son, I bless You! What a bitter separation
this is—crueler than any death!”
But grief keeps Her from saying more and leaves Her speechless. Inconsolable
Queen, let me help You. Let me dry your tears and comfort You in your bitter
sorrow. My Mother, I will not leave You alone; I ask You to take me with You.
In this most sorrowful hour for You and Jesus, You teach me what I must do.
You teach me how I must defend Him, make reparation to Him, and console Him;
and—if I must—give my life to defend Yours.
I will not come out from beneath your mantle. At a sign from You I will
fly to Jesus. I will offer Him your Love, your affections and your kisses
together with mine. I will place them on each wound, in each drop of his
Blood, in each pain and insult. As He feels the kisses and Love of his Mother
in each pain, may his wounds be soothed. Then I will come back to hide under
your mantle. And I will bring his kisses back to You, to soothe your pierced
Heart.
My Mama, my heart is pounding, I want to go to Jesus. And as I kiss your
maternal hands, bless me as You blessed Jesus, and allow me to go to Him.
My sweet Jesus, love directs me toward your steps and I reach You, as You
walk along the streets of Jerusalem together with your beloved disciples.
I look at You and I see You still pale.
I hear your voice—sweet, but sad—so sad as to break the hearts of your disciples,
who are deeply disturbed by your sadness. As I lean to listen, I hear You
say, This is the last time I will go through these streets alone. Tomorrow
I will be bound and dragged through them amid a thousand insults. Pointing
to the places where You will be more cruelly insulted and tortured, You say,
Like the sun, my life here below is about to set. Tomorrow, at this hour,
I will be no more. But I will rise, like the sun, on the third day. At your
words, the disciples grow sad and silent and do not know what to answer. You
add, Take courage! Do not despair! I am not leaving you. I will always be
with you; still, it is necessary for me to die for the good of all.
As you pause, I see that You are moved, but with a trembling voice You proceed
in your teaching. And before enclosing Yourself in the cenacle, You look at
the sun which is setting, just as your life is setting; You offer your steps
for those who find themselves at the setting of their lives, giving them
the grace to let them set in You, and repairing for those who, in spite of
the sorrows and disillusions of life, persist in not wanting to surrender
to You.
Then you look again at Jerusalem, the center of your miracles and of the
preferential love of your heart. In return, the city is already preparing
the cross for you and sharpening the nails, to commit the deicide. You shudder,
your Heart breaks and You cry over its destruction. With this, You repair
for many souls consecrated to You, whom You tried to form with so much care
as portents of your love, but ungrateful and unrequiting, they only bring
you more bitter suffering! I want to share in your atonement, to soothe the
breaking of your heart. But I see that You are horrified by the sight of Jerusalem,
and, turning your eyes away, You enter the supper room.
My love, draw me closer to your heart, let me make your sorrows my own,
and let me offer them together with you. Look mercifully on my soul; pour
your love into it, bless me.
Reflections and Practices.
Without delay, Jesus withdraws from his Mother, although his most tender
Heart suffers immensely. Are we as ready to sacrifice even the most legitimate
and holy affections, in order to fulfill the Divine will? Let us especially
reflect on those moments when we may feel distant from the Divine Presence
or from an especially fond devotion.
Jesus did not take his last steps without purpose. In them he glorified
the Father and asked for the salvation of souls. We must place in our steps
the same intentions of Jesus that is, to sacrifice ourselves for the glory
of the Father and for the good of souls. Furthermore, we should imagine that
we are placing our steps in those of Jesus. He wasted nothing in each step,
but enclosed all the steps of creatures in his own, making reparation for
all ungodly steps, in order to give the Father the glory he deserves, and
life to all the evil steps of creatures so that they might walk the path of
good. Likewise, so should we place our steps into those of Jesus, repeating
his own intentions. Do we walk among others modestly and recollected so as
to be an example, inspiring them to devotion and holiness?
Despite his sufferings, from time to time he said a few words to the apostles,
telling them about his imminent passion. How do we behave in conversation?
When the occasion presents itself, do we turn our conversation to the Passion
of our Divine Redeemer?
When loving Jesus saw his Apostles sad and discouraged, He tried to comfort
them. In our conversations, do we have the intention of comforting Jesus?
Do we try to carry on our conversations in the Will of God, by instilling
the spirit of Jesus Christ in others?
As Jesus walks to the Cenacle, let us enclose all our thoughts, affections,
heartbeats, prayers, actions, meals, work, and all our other acts in the Heart
of Jesus as they unfold. In this way, our actions will acquire a divine character.
However, since it is difficult to always keep this divine attitude because
it is hard for the soul to fuse her acts continuously in Him the soul can
compensate with the disposition of her good will, which will please Jesus
very much. He will keep watch over her every thought, word, and heartbeat.
He will place them in attendance inside and outside of Himself, gazing at
them with great Love, as the fruit of the creature’s good will. Then, when
the soul fuses itself in him, doing its immediate acts with him, good Jesus
feels so drawn toward this soul that He will do what she does together with
her, transforming the creature’s acts into a divine work.
All this is the effect of God’s goodness, who takes everything into account
and rewards everything, even the smallest act done in the Will of God, so
that the creature is restituted in everything.
O my Life and my all, may your steps become mine, and, as I walk this earth,
grant that my thoughts may be in Heaven above!
(Personal Offering and Thanksgiving)
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
3rd HOUR
From 7 P.M. to 8 P.M.
The Legal Supper
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
O Jesus, you have arrived at the upper room together with your beloved disciples
and sit down to supper with them. What tenderness, what kindliness you show
in all your person, as you humble yourself to eat material food for the last
time! Here, now, everything in you is love. On this occasion also, You not
only atone for sins of gluttony, but You also pray for the sanctification
of food, for it to become the body’s strength. We are mindful of how you desire
our holiness in our humble, ordinary, everyday acts.
Jesus, my Life, your sweet and penetrating gaze seems to search all of the
Apostles; and while eating with them your Heart remains pierced in seeing
your dear Apostles still weak and feeble, especially the untrue Judas, who
has already put a foot in hell. And from the depths of your heart you cry
bitterly, What good is to come from shedding my blood? Here is a soul so favored
by Me —lost! Your eyes, burnished with loving light, burn into him, to make
him understand the great evil he is about to commit.
Your Supreme Charity makes You bear this pain, and You do not share it even
with your beloved Apostles. As you grieve over Judas, your heart is filled
with joy to see the beloved disciple, John, on your left. And unable to contain
your love any longer, you gently draw him to you, rest his head on your heart,
letting him know what only you foresee: paradise!
It is in this solemn hour that the two peoples, the reprobate and the elect,
are portrayed by the two disciples: the reprobate in Judas, who already feels
hell in his heart; the elect in John, who rests and delights in You. O my
sweet Lord, I also draw near to You, who are all tenderness toward the sinners
who want to love You. Make me worthy, unworthy creature though I am, of resting
my tired head on your adorable Heart. I pray you to make me feel the delights
of heaven now, so that, enraptured by the sweet harmonies of your heart, the
earth may no longer be earth for me, but heaven. But in these sweet and divine
harmonies, I sense that painful heartbeats escape from your heart. They are
for the lost souls! O Jesus, I beg You, do not allow more souls to be lost.
Let your heart beat in theirs, and make them feel the heartbeats of the life
of heaven, just as your beloved disciple, John, felt them. Attracted by the
gentleness and sweetness of your Love, may they all surrender to You!
O Jesus, while I remain here in your heart, feed me as you fed your apostles,
with, the food of love, the food of your holy word the food of the divine
will. O my Jesus, do not deny me this food, which You so yearn for me to have,
so that your very Life may be formed in me. My dear, good Jesus, while I
am here beside you, I see that the food you are eating together with your
dear disciples is nothing other than a lamb. This is the figurative lamb.
And, as no more vital life fluid remains in this lamb by force of the fire,
so it is with you, the mystical lamb, who must consume yourself completely
for creatures by force of love. You will not keep even a single drop of your
blood for yourself, having to shed it all, for love of us.
O Jesus, there is nothing You do which does not portray vividly your most
sorrowful Passion, which You keep always present in your mind, in your Heart
—in everything. This teaches me that if I too would always have the thought
of your Passion in my mind and in my heart, You would never deny me the food
of your Love.
How grateful I am to you! O my Jesus, you have me with you in your every
act, intending something special for me. I beg you for the grace to have your
Passion always before me in my mind, in my heart, in my glances, in my footsteps
and in whatever I do, so that no matter where I turn, interiorly or before
others, you will always be present to me. Give me the grace never to forget
what you have suffered and endured for me. Let this be my magnet which attracts
my entire being to you and keeps me from going away from you.
Reflections and Practices.
Before eating, let us join our intentions to those of our lovable and good
Jesus, imagining that our mouth and Jesus’ are one, and that we are moving
our tongue and our jaws together with his. In this way, not only will we draw
into ourselves the life of Jesus Christ, but since He is present with his
Will in the mouths of all creatures, we will unite ourselves with Him to
give our Father the glory, praise, love, thanksgiving, and complete reparation
that creatures owe Him, just as Jesus did while eating.
Let us also imagine being at the table near Jesus, now looking at Him, now
praying Him to share a bite with us, now kissing the hem of His red mantle,
now contemplating the movements of His lips and of His celestial eyes, now
noticing the sudden clouding of His most lovable Face in foreseeing so much
human ingratitude! Just as loving Jesus spoke of his Passion during supper,
so will we, whenever we take food, reflect on how we have done the Hours of
the Passion.
The Angels, just as they did when our Jesus was on earth, wait to collect
our prayers and reparations and to present the divine disposition before the
Father to mitigate, in some way, his just indignation for the many offences
He receives from creatures. And when we pray, can we say we are recollected
and reverent? Can we say that the Angels are happy to carry our prayers joyfully
to Heaven, just as they carried those of Jesus, or are they saddened by our
prayers? As sorrowful Jesus was eating, his Heart was pierced at the thought
of the loss of Judas. In him, He saw all the souls who would be lost. And
the loss of souls being the greatest of his sorrows, unable to contain it,
he drew John to himself for relief.
In the same way, we will remain always close to Him like John, compassionating
Him in His pains, relieving Him, and giving Him rest in our hearts. We will
make His pain our own, we will identify ourselves with Him, to feel the heartbeats
of that Divine Heart, pierced by the loss of souls. We will give Him our own
heartbeats in order to remove those wounds; and in the place of those wounds
we will put the souls who willingly free Him, so that they may convert and
be saved. Every beat of Jesus' heart is an I love you that echoes in all
the heartbeats of creatures; His desire is to be reciprocated by all created
hearts in a continuous exchange of love. But loving Jesus is deprived of
this response on the part of many, and his heartbeats are left, as it were,
stifled and embittered.
Let us ask Jesus to seal our heartbeat with his I love you, so that our
heart can also live the life of his heart. Then, echoing in the heartbeat
of creatures it will compel them to say, “I love you, Jesus.” We will even
fuse ourselves in Him, we will take on the divine disposition so that every
time we do so, loving Jesus will tell us “I love you.” This “I love you”
is so immense that it fills Heaven and earth, flows in the Saints, and descends
into Purgatory. The hearts of all creatures are touched by this “I love you.”
The elements themselves experience new life in such a way that they all feel
the effects of this “I love you,” which issues forth from Jesus.
Even in his breathing, Jesus feels suffocated for the loss of souls. We
will give him our breath of love to relieve him. And taking his breath, we
will touch the souls that flee from his arms, to give them the life of the
divine breath so that instead of running away they can return to him and
cling to him more than before. Especially when we experience pain and find
it difficult to breathe, let us think of Jesus who contains the breath of
creatures in his own breath.
He also feels his breath being taken when souls are lost. Let us unite our
painful and labored breaths with those of Jesus to relieve Him. In our sorrows,
let us run after the sinner, compelling him to seek refuge in the Heart of
Jesus. My beloved Good, may my breath be a continuous cry at every creature’s
breath, forcing her to enclose herself in your breath. The first word that
loving Jesus said on the Cross was a word of forgiveness to pardon all souls
before the Father. Jesus so loves the souls who stand around his Heart asking
forgiveness, that He feels as if his arms were breaking and so replaces Justice
with Mercy.
We will give Him our acts to excuse the sinner, so that moved by our excuses
no soul can go to hell. We will join with him to keep guard over the hearts
of creatures so that no one will offend him. We will let Him pour out His
love, willingly accepting all that He may dispose for us —coldness, hardness,
darkness, oppressions, temptations, distractions, slanders, illnesses and
other things, so as to relieve Him from all that He receives from creatures.
Jesus pours more than his Love on souls. He often goes to a soul when He
feels the coldness of creatures and lets the soul experience this coldness.
If the soul is receptive, Jesus will feel relieved from all the coldness of
creatures, and this cold will then serve to guard other hearts so that loving
Jesus is loved. At other times, Jesus feels the hardness of hearts in his
own. Unable to contain it, He seeks to expel it by drawing closer to us.
He touches his Heart to ours so that we may partake of that hardness. When
we embrace his pain as our own, we put it around the heart of the sinner to
melt his hardness and bring him back to Jesus.
My beloved Jesus is beset by the carelessness of creatures and wants to
give vent to his grief by sharing it with us. As we suffer with resignation,
let us place these heedless acts around Him, as a breath of wind to ease
his pains. And we shall shield Him from these willful acts of carelessness.
My beloved Good, You suffer greatly because of the loss of souls; and out
of compassion I place my being at your disposal. I will take your pains and
the pains of the sinners upon myself, leaving You relieved, and the sinner
clinging to You. O my Jesus, melt my entire being into love so that I may
continually comfort You and sweeten all your bitterness.
(Personal Offering and Thanksgiving)
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
4th HOUR
From 8 P.M. to 9 P.M.
The Eucharistic Supper.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
My tender love, you are never satisfied in your love. I see that once you
have finished the legal supper, you get up from the table together with your
beloved disciples; and together with them you raise up a hymn of thanksgiving
to the Father for the food he has given you, making reparation for all the
souls who fail to thank You for the many ways our lives are sustained by You.
This is why, O Jesus, in anything You do, touch or see, You always have on
your lips the words, “Thanks be to You, O Father”. I too, Jesus, united with
You, take the words from your very lips, and I will say, always and in everything:
“Thank You for myself and for everyone”, to continue atoning for the lack
of thanksgiving.
The washing of the feet
My Jesus, your love seems untiring. You have your beloved disciples sit
down again. Then, taking a basin of water, and girding yourself with a white
towel, you kneel at their feet in such a humble way that it draws the attention
of all heaven, turning it rapturous. The apostles themselves, seeing you kneeling
at their feet, are almost motionless.
But tell me, my Love, what do You want? What do You intend to do with this
act so humble? Humility never before seen, nor will ever be seen again!
“O my little child, I want every soul. So, as a poor beggar kneeling humbly
before them, I ask, I beg, I insist; with my tears, I construct snares of
love to catch them.. Prostrate at their feet, with this basin of water mixed
with my tears, I want to cleanse them of any imperfection and prepare them
to receive me in this sacrament.
I so much cherish this act of receiving Me in the Eucharist, that I do not
want to entrust this office to the angels, and not even to my dear Mama, but
I Myself want to purify them, down to the most intimate fibers, in order to
dispose them to receive the fruit of the Sacrament; and in the Apostles I
intended to prepare all souls.
I intend to make reparation for all holy works, for the administration of
the sacraments, and especially for all those things that priests do with the
spirit of pride, empty of the divine spirit, and filled with self-interest.
How many good works reach me more to dishonor me than to give me honor, more
to embitter me than to please me, more to give me death than to give me life!
These are the sins which sadden me most. Yes, my child, go over all the most
intimate sins by which I am offended, one by one, and satisfy me with my own
reparations, and console my embittered heart.”
My tormented love, I make your life my own; and together with you I intend
to make reparation to you for all these offenses. I want to enter into the
most intimate hiding places of your Divine Heart and repair with your own
Heart for the most intimate and secret offenses with which your dearest ones
offend You. O my Jesus, I want to follow You in everything, and together with
You I want to make present all the souls who are about to receive You in
the Eucharist, enter into their hearts, and place my hands together with yours,
to purify them.
O Jesus, with your tears and with the water with which You washed the feet
of the Apostles, let us wash the souls who will receive You. Let us purify
their hearts. Let us inflame them; let us shake them free of the dirt that
soils them, so that when they receive You, You will find joy in them instead
of bitterness.
But, my affectionate Good, while You are all intent on washing the feet
of the Apostles, I look at You, and I see another sorrow which pierces your
Most Holy Heart. These Apostles represent all the future sons of the Church.
And in each one You see the variety of all the evils that will arise in the
Church, each a continuation of your sorrow. In one you see weakness, in another
deception; in this one, hypocrisy; in that one, love of interests. In Saint
Peter you see the lack of determination, and all the sins of the leaders of
the Church. In Saint John you see the sins of your most trustworthy. In Judas
you see all the apostate, with the series of all the grave evils which are
caused by them. Ah, your Heart is so flooded with sorrow and Love that You
cannot bear it, and You pause at the feet of each Apostle. Your tears flow,
as you pray and atone for each of these offenses, asking for the remedy corresponding
to each need.
My Jesus, I too unite myself to You; I make your prayers, your reparations
and your appropriate remedies for each soul, my own. I want to mix my tears
with yours so that you may never be alone, but may always have me with you
to share your pains.
My gentle love, while you continue to wash the feet of the apostles, you
now come to Judas' feet. I hear your labored breathing; You not only cry —You
sob. And, while You wash those feet, You kiss them. You press them to your
Heart. Unable to speak—your voice choked by weeping—You look at him through
eyes swollen with tears. With your Heart, You say to him:
My son! I beg you, with the voice of my tears, do not go to Hell! Give Me
your soul. I lie prostrate at your feet, and I am begging you… Tell Me what
you want. What do you ask of Me? I will give you everything —only do not join
the lost. I am your God —spare Me this pain!”
And you again press those feet to your heart. It aches, seeing Judas fixed
in his hardness. Your suffocating love almost causes you to faint. My Heart
and my Life, let me hold You in my arms. I understand that these are the loving
ways that You use with each hardened sinner. Please, my heart, as I share
your sorrow and atone for the sins you receive from the souls that obstinately
refuse to convert, I pray you to let us travel around the earth together.
Wherever there are obstinate sinners, let us give them your tears to soften
them, your kisses and your embraces of love to chain them to you so they
cannot escape. I want to do this to console you for your pain at the loss
of Judas.
Institution of the Eucharist
My Jesus, my joy and delight, I see that your love runs, and runs rapidly.
Though suffering greatly, You rise and quickly approach the Altar where the
bread and wine have been prepared for the Consecration.
My Love, I see you take on a tender and affectionate demeanor—one never
seen before. Your eyes shine more brightly than the sun. Your ruddy Face
is resplendent. Your lips smile and burn with Love. Your hands and all your
members take on a creative attitude. My Love, You are completely transfigured.
Your Divinity seems to overflow from your Humanity. O Jesus, my Heart and
my Life, your entirely new appearance commands everyone’s attention. A sweet
rapture steals over the Apostles and leaves them breathless. Our sweet Mother
runs in spirit to the foot of the Holy Table to witness the wonders of your
Love.
The Angels descend from Heaven and ask one another, “What is this? What
is this? This is the folly of follies and the excess of excesses: a God who
creates not Heaven or earth, but Himself! And where? In the humblest of things—some
bread and some wine.”
O unquenchable Love, surrounded by the Apostles, You take bread into your
hands and offer it to the Father. With your gentle voice I hear You say:
"Thank You, Holy Father, for always answering the prayer of your Son. Holy
Father, concur with Me. One day, You sent Me from Heaven to earth to be incarnated
in the womb of my Mama, to come and save Our children. Now, permit me to incarnate
myself in each host, to continue their salvation and to be the life of each
of my children. Do You not see, O Father? Few hours of my life remain: who
would have the heart to leave my children orphaned and alone? Many are their
enemies —the darkness, the passions, the weaknesses to which they are subject.
Who will help them? Please, I beg you: let me remain in each host to be the
life of each of my children. Then I will rout their enemies, and will be
their light, strength and help in everything. Otherwise, where will they
go? Who will guide them? Our works are eternal. My Love is irresistible; I
cannot—nor do I want—to leave my children."
Moved at the Son’s tender, loving voice, the Father descends from Heaven.
He unites Himself with the Holy Spirit on the altar to concur with his Son.
Jesus pronounces the words of the consecration with a powerful and moving
voice; and without leaving himself he creates himself in that bread and wine.
Then he gives communion to the apostles; and I believe that our heavenly mother
does not remain without receiving him. Ah, Jesus, the heavens bow down and
all send to You an act of adoration in your new state of profound annihilation.
But, sweet Jesus, while your love remains pleased and satisfied, lacking
in nothing, I see, O my Good, on this altar, all the consecrated hosts which
will exist until the end of the ages. I see all your painful passion formed
in each host, because to the excesses of your love, creatures respond with
excesses of ingratitude and of enormous crimes. Heart of my heart, I want
to be with You always, in each tabernacle, in all the pyxes, and in every
consecrated Host that will be until the end of the world. I want to offer
You my acts of reparation for all the offenses that You receive. Therefore,
my heart, I come beside you and kiss your majestic forehead. But as I kiss
you, I feel my lips pricked by the thorns which surround your head. I see,
O my Jesus, that you are not spared the thorns in this holy host, just as
you are not spared them in your passion.
I see how many creatures come before You and instead of offering You the
homage of their good thoughts, send You evil thoughts. That is why You bow
your Head once again, as in the Passion, to receive and suffer the thorns
of their evil thoughts. O my Love, I draw near You to share your pain. I place
all my thoughts in your Mind to drive out the thorns that cause You so much
sorrow. May my every thought flow in every thought of Yours to make up for
all the evil thoughts of creatures and, in this way, to console your afflicted
thoughts. My Good Jesus, I kiss your beautiful eyes. In this holy host I
see your loving eyes looking with anticipation, waiting for all those who
come into your presence, to look at them with your glances of love, and receive
the exchange of their loving glances. But how many come before you, and instead
of looking at you and seeking you, they look at things which distract them
from you, and so deprive you of the pleasure of an exchange of glances between
you and them. You weep. So, kissing you, I feel my lips bathed by your tears.
My Jesus, do not cry; I want to place my eyes in yours to share in these
pains with You, and to cry with You. And wanting to repair for all the distracted
gazes of creatures, I offer You my gazes, always fixed in You. Jesus, my
Love, I kiss your most holy ears. Ah, I see You listening intently to the
needs of souls so that You can console them. In spite of this, they fill
your ears with badly recited prayers, full of distrust, lacking true confidence;
they are lifeless prayers said mostly out of habit. And your ears are aggravated
more in this holy host than in the passion itself.
O my Jesus, I want to take all of the harmonies of Heaven and release them
into your ears to make reparation to You. I want to place my ears in Yours,
not only to share these sufferings with You, but also to offer You my continuous
and instantaneous act of reparation and consolation. Jesus, my Life, I kiss
your most holy Face; I see it bleeding, bruised and swollen. The creatures,
O Jesus, come before the Holy Host, and with their indecent postures and evil
discourses, instead of giving You honor, seem to send You slaps and spittle.
Yet, as in the Passion, You receive them with perfect peace and patience
and endure everything.
O Jesus, not only do I want to put my face near yours to caress you and
kiss you as you receive these slaps, and to take away the spit, but I also
want to put my face in yours in order to share these pains with you. I want
to divide my body into tiny particles and place them before You as countless
kneeling statues. I want to transform all my movements into continuous prostrations
to make up for all the irreverence You receive from creatures. Jesus, my all,
I kiss your most sweet mouth. I see that as you descend into the hearts of
creatures, the first contact you make is on their tongue. Oh, how embittered
you are to find many biting, impure and evil tongues! Yes, you feel as if
poisoned by those tongues, and it is even worse when you descend into their
hearts. O Jesus, if it were possible, I would like to be in each creature's
mouth to make it sweet for you, and to make reparation for whatever offenses
you receive from them.
My tired Lord, I kiss your most holy neck. I see you are tired and exhausted,
and all absorbed in your crafting of love. Tell me, what are you doing? And
Jesus replies:
“My child, in this host I work from dawn till dark, forming continuous chains
of love, so that as souls come to me they find my chains of love ready to
chain them to my heart. But, do you know what they do? Many do not want these
chains of mine, and by means of force they free themselves and break them
to pieces. But because these chains are bound to my heart, I remain tortured
unto delirium. And, as these souls shatter my chains and ruin the work that
I do in this Sacrament, they seek the chains of creatures. And they do this
even in my presence, using Me in order to reach their own ends. The pain from
this is so intense that it brings on a violent fever which makes me faint
and become delirious.”
O Jesus, how I give you compassion! You love is so overburdened by this.
In order to relieve you from the offenses You receive from these souls, I
ask You to chain my heart with those chains broken by them, in order to give
You my requital of love in their place. The fire that it contains is so intense
that, in order to give a little relief to your flames which shoot up too high—while
wanting to take a little pause in your work—you also want to play in this
sacrament. Your game is to form arrows and darts so that when creatures come
before you, you begin to play with them by shooting arrows from your breast
to wound them. When they receive them, you celebrate, and so it is that your
game is played.
But many, O my Jesus, deflect them, reciprocating with arrows of coldness,
darts of lukewarmness, and arrows of ingratitude. This saddens you to tears,
because creatures make your game of love fail.
O Jesus, here is my breast, ready to receive not only the arrows destined
for me but also those which the others refuse. This way, your games will not
be frustrated any more. And in exchange, I want to make reparation to you
for the coldness, lukewarmness and ingratitude you receive. O Jesus, I kiss
your left hand, and I intend to make reparation for all the illicit and unholy
touches made in your Presence. I beg You to always hold me close to your
Heart! O Jesus, I kiss your right hand. I intend to make reparation for all
sacrileges, especially for all badly-celebrated Masses. How many times, my
love, you are compelled to descend from heaven into the hands of priests
who, in virtue of the authority given to them, call you. But you find those
hands full of mud, and oozing decay. And although you feel the nausea of
those hands, your love compels you to remain.
In reality, it is worse in certain priests. In these, you find the priests
of your passion who, with their enormous crimes and sacrileges, renew the
deicide. My Jesus, it is terrifying just to think of it. Again, as in the
passion, you find yourself in those unworthy hands, like a meek little lamb,
waiting for your death once more. O Jesus, how you suffer! And how you would
like to have a loving hand to free you from those bloody hands! Yes, when
you find yourself in such hands, I pray you to make me be there to make reparation
to you. I want to cover you with the purity of the angels, perfume you with
your virtues to lessen the stench of those hands, and offer you my heart for
an escape and a refuge. And while you are in me, I will pray to you for priests
so that they may be your worthy ministers, and no longer endanger your sacramental
life.
O Jesus, I kiss your left foot. And I intend to make reparation to you for
those who receive you by habit and without the proper dispositions. O Jesus,
I kiss your right foot, and I intend to make reparation to you for those who
receive you to outrage you. Please, when they dare to do that, I pray you
to renew the miracle you worked when Longinus pierced your heart with the
lance: with the blood that flowed out and touched his eyes you converted him
and healed him. Similarly, with your sacramental touch, convert offenses into
love.
O Jesus, I kiss your heart, the center into which all offenses are poured.
I intend to make reparation to you for everything and for everyone; to love
you in exchange for your love; and always united with you, to share your pains.
Please, heavenly archer of love, if I fail to make reparation to you for
some offense, I pray you to imprison me in your heart and in your Will so
that nothing can escape me.
I will pray our sweet mother to keep me alert; and together with her we
will make reparation to you for everything and for everyone. Together, we
will kiss you; and, sheltering you, we will drive away the waves of bitterness
which, unfortunately, you receive from creatures. O Jesus, remember that I
too am a poor prisoner. It is true that your prisons, which consist of the
tiny space of the host, afford less space than mine. So, enclose me in your
heart, and with the chains of your love not only imprison me, but tie my
thoughts, affections and desires [to yours], one by one. Shackle my hands
and my feet to your heart, so that I may not have any other hands or feet
but yours.
And so, my Love, my prison will be your Heart, my chains will be made of
love; your flames will be my food, your breath will be mine, the fences preventing
me from going out will be your Most Holy Will. So I will see nothing but flames,
I will touch nothing but fire; and while they give me life, they will give
me death, like that You suffer in the Holy Host. I will give You my life,
and so, while I remain imprisoned in You, You will be released in me.
Isn't this why you imprisoned yourself in the host: to be released from
your prison by the souls that receive you, and to take life in them? Now,
as a sign of love, bless me and give me a kiss. And I embrace you and remain
O my sweet heart, I see that after you have instituted the Blessed Sacrament,
and have seen the enormous ingratitude and the offenses of creatures before
the excesses of your love, although you are wounded and embittered, still
you do not retreat. Indeed, you want to drown everything in the immensity
of your love. Jesus, I see that you give yourself in communion to your apostles.
Afterwards, you add that what you have done, they also must do. With this,
you give them the power to consecrate. And so you ordain them priests, and
institute other sacraments.
In this way, you take care of everything, and make reparation for everything:
the faulty sermons; the sacraments administered and received without the proper
dispositions, and therefore, without effects; the mistaken vocations of priests,
caused by the failure to use all the means necessary to discern true vocations—both
on the part of the priests and on the part of those who ordain them. No,
nothing escapes you, O Jesus. And I intend to follow you and to make reparation
to you for all these offenses. Then, once you have finished with everything,
you take your apostles with you and set out for the Garden of Gethsemane
to begin your painful passion. I will follow you in everything to keep you
faithful company.
Reflections and Practices.
Jesus is hidden in the host to give life to everyone, and in this hidden
state he embraces all ages and gives light to everyone. Similarly, by hiding
ourselves in him, through our prayers and reparations we will give light and
life to everyone, even to heretics and infidels, because Jesus does not exclude
anyone. What are we to do while hiding in him? In order to become similar
to Jesus, we must hide everything in him: our thoughts, glances, works, heartbeats,
affections, desires, steps and works. We must even hide our prayers themselves
in Jesus' prayers.
And just as our loving Jesus in the Eucharist embraces all ages, together
with him we will embrace them as well. United to him, we will be the thought
of every mind, the word of every tongue, the desire of every heart, the step
of every foot, the work of every arm. With this, we will repel from Jesus'
heart all the wrongs that creatures would like to do him, and we will try
to substitute them with all the good that we can possibly do, and so urge
Jesus to give salvation, holiness and love to all souls. In order for our
life to correspond to Jesus' life, it must be completely conformed to his.
The soul must have the intention of being in all the tabernacles of the
world, to keep him company continuously and to give him perpetual relief
and reparation. And with this intention we must do all our actions of the
day. The first Tabernacle exists within us, in our hearts. So, we should
attend closely to everything that good Jesus wants to do in us. Many times,
abiding in our hearts, Jesus makes us feel the need to pray. Yes, it is Jesus
who wants to pray, and he wants us with him. He makes himself practically
one with our voice, with our affections, with our whole heart, so that our
prayer may be one with his. And so, to honor Jesus' prayer, we will be careful
to give him our entire being so that loving Jesus may raise his prayer to
heaven, to talk to the Father and to renew the effects of his own prayer
in the world.
We must be attentive to all the movements of our interior, because now good
Jesus makes us suffer, now he wants us at prayer, now he puts us into one
state of soul or another, in order to be able to repeat his own life in us.
Let's suppose that Jesus gives us the occasion to exercise patience. He receives
so many offenses from creatures that he feels compelled to pick up some scourge
and strike creatures with it; and so he gives us the occasion to exercise
patience. Now, we must honor him by patiently supporting everything, just
as he does. This way, our patience will snatch from his hand the scourges
that other creatures draw down on themselves, because he will be exercising
his own divine patience in us. And as with patience, so too with all the other
virtues.
In the Blessed Sacrament, loving Jesus exercises all the virtues; and it
is from him that we will draw strength, meekness, patience, tolerance, humility,
obedience. Good Jesus gives us his flesh for food; and we will give him our
love, our will, our desires, thoughts and affections to nourish him. This
way, we will compete with Jesus' love. We won't let anything enter into us
that is not him. So, everything we do must serve to nourish our beloved Jesus.
Our thoughts must nourish the divine thought. That is, realizing that Jesus
is hidden in us and that he wants the food of our thoughts, by thinking holy
thoughts we come to nourish the divine thought. The same goes for our glances
that must nourish the divine glance, and for our words, heartbeats, affections,
desires, steps, and works. In a word, all must serve to nourish Jesus, and,
in doing so, we must have the intention of nourishing creatures in Jesus.
My sweet Love, in this hour You transubstantiated Yourself in bread and
wine. O Jesus, please grant that everything I say and do may be a continual
consecration of Yourself in Me and in souls.
My sweet Life, when You enter into Me, grant that my every heartbeat, desire,
affection, thought, and word may endure your sacramental consecration, in
such a way that, with my entire, tiny being consecrated, it may become so
many hosts to give You to souls. And by virtue of your consecration.
O Jesus, may I consecrate all of You into all souls. O Jesus, my sweet Love,
may I be your tiny host in order to enclose within myself, as within a living
Host, your entire Being.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
5th HOUR
From 9 P.M. to 10 P.M.
The first hour of agony in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
The three hours of agony in the Garden of Gethsemane
Introductory Prayer
O my divine redeemer, Jesus, please take me with you, together with your
three dear apostles, to assist at your agony in the Garden of Olives. Admonished
by the sweet rebuke You gave to Peter and the other two sleeping disciples,
I want to stay awake for at least an hour with You in Gethsemane; I want to
feel at least one sharp pain of your agonizing Heart, one sigh of your labored
breathing.
I want to fix my eyes on your divine face and contemplate how it turns pale,
how it becomes troubled, how it is oppressed by anguish, how it bends low,
even to the dust! O my suffering Jesus, I already see you staggering and falling,
now to the left and now to the right. I see you join your loving, crippled
hands. I begin to hear your moans, your cries of incomprehensible pain which
you raise to heaven. O my Jesus, agonizing in the dreary Garden of Gethsemane,
during this hour in which I will keep you company, make a splash, a stream
of that adorable blood flow on me, which is streaming from all your adorable
members.
O most precious bath of my greatest good, Jesus, who is agonizing for me,
let me drink you to the last drop, and with you, drink at least one sip of
the bitter chalice of my beloved. Let me feel inside of me the pains of his
divine heart. Indeed, let me feel my heart broken by the sorrow of having
offended my Lord, who reduces himself to the agony of death for me.
Yes, my Jesus, give me grace, help me to suffer, to sigh and to cry with
you, at least for one hour in the Garden of Olives. O Sorrowful Mother, Mary,
make me feel the compassion of your pierced heart for Jesus agonizing in Gethsemane.
Amen.
My afflicted Jesus, I feel drawn into this garden as if by an electric current.
I understand that you, powerful magnet of my wounded heart, call me. And I
run, thinking to myself: What are these attractions of love which I feel in
myself? Oh, perhaps my persecuted Jesus is in such a state of bitterness that
he feels the need for my company. And I fly. But I don't believe it. I am
terrified as I enter this garden.
The darkness of the night, the intensity of the cold, the slow movement
of the leaves—as mournful voices—announce pains, sadness and death for my
sorrowful Jesus. The gentle twinkling of the stars—which, as crying eyes,
are watching attentively and echoing Jesus' tears—reproach me for my ingratitude.
I tremble; and groping about, searching for him, I call him: “Jesus, where
are you? You call me but don't show yourself? You call me, and then hide?”
Everything is terrifying and frightening, and deeply silent. But, straining
my ears I hear a labored breath: it is Jesus himself whom I find.
But what a woeful change! It is no longer the gentle Jesus of the Eucharistic
Supper, on whose face there shone a dazzling and enrapturing beauty. Instead,
it is sad, with a mortal sadness that disfigures his natural beauty. He is
already agonizing, and I feel troubled thinking that maybe I won't hear his
voice again, because it seems like he is dying. So I embrace his feet. I become
more daring and go up to his arms and put my hand on his forehead to support
it. Then whispering, I call him: “Jesus, Jesus.”
Shaken by my voice, he looks at me and says:
“My child, are you here? I was waiting for you, since this is the sadness
which most oppressed me: the total abandonment of everyone. I was waiting
for you to make you the spectator of my pains, and to have you drink together
with me the chalice of the bitterness which my heavenly Father will soon send
me by means of an angel. We will sip from it together, because it will not
be a chalice of comfort, but of intense bitternesses, and I feel the need
of a few loving souls who would drink at least a few drops of it. This is
why I have called you: to accept it, to share my pains with me, and to assure
me that you will not leave me alone in complete abandonment.”
Yes, my anguished Jesus, we will drink the chalice of your bitterness together,
we will suffer your pains [together], and I will never leave your side.
So, assured by me, saddened Jesus enters into mortal agony, and suffers
pains unheard of, pains never before seen. Unable to bear it, and wanting
to sympathize with him and comfort him, I say to him:
“Tell me, why are you so sad, afflicted, and alone in this garden and on
this night? It is the last night of your life on earth; only a few hours remain
before your passion begins. I thought that I would at least find your heavenly
mother, beloved Mary Magdalene, and the faithful apostles here. Instead,
I find you all alone, and overwhelmed by a sadness which gives you cruel
death, without making you die. O my good and my all, won't you answer me?
Speak to me!”
But it seems you cannot talk, oppressed as you are by such sadness. But,
oh my Jesus, that gaze of yours, full of light, yes, but afflicted and searching,
such that it seems to be looking for help; your pale face, your lips parched
with love, your Divine Person, trembling from head to foot, your Heart, beating
so intensely — and those heartbeats search for souls and cause You such labor
that it seems that, any moment now, You are about to breathe your last — everything
tells me that You are alone, and therefore You want my company.
Here I am, O Jesus, together with You. But I don’t have the heart to see
You cast on the ground. I take You in my arms, I press You to my heart. One
by one, I want to number your pains; and one by one, the sins which present
themselves before you. I want to give you relief for everything, reparation
for everything, and at least an act of compassion for everything.
O my Jesus, while I am holding you in my arms, your sufferings increase.
O my life, I feel a fire flowing in your veins; I feel your blood boiling,
and that it wants to burst your veins and run out. Tell me, my Love, what
is it? I see neither whips, nor thorns, neither nails, nor a cross. Yet, as
I rest my head on your Heart, I feel cruel thorns piercing it. I feel cruel
whips that spare no part of your sacred Humanity, neither inside nor out.
I see your hands contracted and contorted, worse than if they were nailed.
Tell me, my sweet Good, who has so much power, also in your interior, as to
torment You and make You suffer as many deaths for as many torments as he
gives You?
Oh, it seems that blessed Jesus opens His lips, faint and dying, and says
to me:
“My child, do you want to know what it is that torments Me more than the
very executioners? Rather, those are nothing compared to this! It is the Eternal
Love, which, wanting primacy in everything, is making Me suffer, all at once
and in the most intimate parts, what the executioners will make Me suffer
little by little. Ah, my child, it is Love which prevails in everything, over
Me and within Me. Love is nail for Me, Love is scourge, Love is crown of
thorns – Love is everything for Me. Love is my perennial passion, while that
of men is in time. Ah, my child, enter into my Heart, come to be dissolved
in my love, and only in my love will you comprehend how much I suffered and
how much I loved you, and you will learn to love Me and to suffer only out
of love.”
O my Jesus, since You call me into your Heart to show me what love made
You suffer, I enter into It. But as I enter, I see the portents of love,
which crowns your head, not with material thorns, but with thorns of fire;
which scourges You, not with lashes of ropes, but with lashes of fire; which
crucifies You with nails, not made of iron, but of fire. Everything is fire,
which penetrates deep into your bones and into your very marrow; and distilling
all of your Most Holy Humanity into fire, it gives You mortal pains, certainly
greater than the very Passion, and prepares a bath of love for all the souls
who will want to be washed of any stain and acquire the right of children
of love.
O Love without end, I feel overwhelmed before such an immensity of Love.
I see that to enter into Love and to understand it, I should be all Love.
O my Jesus, I am not! But, since you want my company, and want me to enter
into you, I pray you to make me become all love. So, I beg you to crown my
head and every thought of mine with the crown of love. I beseech you, O Jesus,
to whip me with the whip of love. Let my soul, my body, my powers, my sentiments,
my desires, my affections, in a word, everything, be scourged and sealed by
love. O love without end, let there be nothing in me which does not receive
its life from love.
O Jesus, center of all loves, I beg you to nail my hands and my feet with
the nails of love, so that entirely nailed by love, I may become love, understand
love, dress myself with love, nourish myself with love. May love keep me all
nailed in you, so that nothing inside or outside of me dare to pull me away
and distract me from love, O Jesus!
Reflections and Practices.
Abandoned in this hour by his eternal Father, Jesus Christ suffered such
a blaze of fiery love, that he could destroy all sins, even possible and imaginable
ones. He could inflame with his love all creatures of millions and millions
of worlds, and all the damned in hell, if they weren't eternally fixed in
their wickedness.
Let us enter into Jesus, and after penetrating into the most intimate parts
of his whole interior, into those heartbeats of fire, into his intelligence
(which was, as it were, inflamed), let us take this love and dress ourselves
inside and out, with the fire that inflamed Jesus. Then, going out of him,
and pouring ourselves into his Will, we will find all creatures. Let us give
the love of Jesus to each, and retouching their hearts and their minds with
this love, let us try to transform them all into love. Then, with the desires,
the heartbeats and the thoughts of Jesus, let us form him in the heart of
every creature.
After this, we will bring all creatures to him with Jesus in their heart,
and we will place them around him, saying: “Jesus, we bring you all creatures
with Jesus in the heart of each, to give you comfort and relief. We don't
have any other way to relieve your love than to bring all creatures into your
heart!” With this, we will give true relief to Jesus, for the flames that
burn him are so many, that he is continually repeating, “I am burning, and
there is no one to take my love. Please, relieve me: take my love and give
me love!” To conform to Jesus in everything, we must go back into ourselves
and apply these reflections to ourselves.
In all that we do, can be say that it is a continual flowing of love between
God and ourselves? Our life is a continual flow of love which we receive from
God: if we think, it is a flow of love; if we work, it is a flow of love;
the word is love; our heartbeat is love. We receive everything from God.
But do all our actions run toward God with love? Does Jesus find in us the
sweet enchantment of his love which flows to him, so that, enraptured by
this enchantment, he may lavish more abundant love on us?
If, in all that we have done, we did not made the intention of running together
in the love of Jesus, let us enter into ourselves and ask his forgiveness
for having made him lose the sweet enchantment of his love toward us.
Do we let ourselves be modeled by the divine hands, like the humanity of
Jesus Christ did? With the exception of sin, we must receive everything that
happens in us as the divine doings. Otherwise, we deny the Father his glory,
we let the divine life escape us, and we lose holiness. Everything we feel
within ourselves inspirations, mortifications, graces is nothing
other than a crafting of love. Do we take them in the way God wants us to?
Do we leave Jesus free to work in us? Or, by taking everything in a human
sense and as indifferent things, do we reject the divine action and force
Jesus to cross his arms? Do we abandon ourselves in his arms as if we were
dead, to receive all those blows which our Lord disposes for our sanctification?
My love and my all, let your love flood me on all sides and burn everything
in me which is not yours. And make my love always flow toward you to burn
everything that could sadden your heart.
Thanksgiving Prayer
after each hour of Agony in the Garden
O my sweetest Lord, I thank you for being pleased to have me in your company
at least for an hour during your tremendous agony in the garden. Oh, my good
Jesus, how little comfort did you find in me. Yet, your infinite love and
the overflowing charity of your merciful heart make you find relief even in
the least act of compassion that the creature shows you. I will never forget
the sight of your adorable person trembling, struck down, crushed, humiliated
in the dust, and all covered with the blood you sweat, in the dark horror
of Gethsemane! O Jesus, I have experienced that to be with you in your sufferings,
to feel even one drop of the distressing bitterness of your divine heart
is the greatest fortune which anyone can have on earth.
O Jesus, I gladly renounce all vain and earthly things. I only want you,
my oppressed, suffering, afflicted Lord. From this garden, to Calvary, I always
want to give you my faithful and sweet company.
O Jesus, make me be captured with you, and dragged to the courts with you.
Let me share in the abuses, the insults, the spit and the slaps your enemies
are going to cover you with. Take me with you from Pilate to Herod and back
to Pilate again. Tie me to the column with you, and let me feel a part of
your scourgings. Jesus, pierce me with some of your thorns. Let me be condemned
to death by crucifixion with you: you, as victim of love for me, and I as
victim of atonement for my sins.
Give me the portion of the Cyrenian, to follow you to Calvary; and there,
let me be nailed to the cross with you, and then agonize and die with you.
O sorrowful mother, you have given me help to sympathize with agonizing
Jesus in the garden. Help me now to be crucified with you on the same cross
of Jesus, and to know how to offer him the most worthy reparations with the
same merits of his passion and death on the cross. Amen.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
6th HOUR
From 10 P.M. to 11 P.M.
The second hour of agony in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
The three hours of agony in the Garden of Gethsemane
Introductory Prayer
O my divine redeemer, Jesus, please take me with you, together with your
three dear apostles, to assist at your agony in the Garden of Olives. Admonished
by the sweet rebuke You gave to Peter and the other two sleeping disciples,
I want to stay awake for at least an hour with You in Gethsemane; I want to
feel at least one sharp pain of your agonizing Heart, one sigh of your labored
breathing.
I want to fix my eyes on your divine face and contemplate how it turns pale,
how it becomes troubled, how it is oppressed by anguish, how it bends low,
even to the dust! O my suffering Jesus, I already see you staggering and falling,
now to the left and now to the right. I see you join your loving, crippled
hands. I begin to hear your moans, your cries of incomprehensible pain which
you raise to heaven. O my Jesus, agonizing in the dreary Garden of Gethsemane,
during this hour in which I will keep you company, make a splash, a stream
of that adorable blood flow on me, which is streaming from all your adorable
members.
O most precious bath of my greatest good, Jesus, who is agonizing for me,
let me drink you to the last drop, and with you, drink at least one sip of
the bitter chalice of my beloved. Let me feel inside of me the pains of his
divine heart. Indeed, let me feel my heart broken by the sorrow of having
offended my Lord, who reduces himself to the agony of death for me.
Yes, my Jesus, give me grace, help me to suffer, to sigh and to cry with
you, at least for one hour in the Garden of Olives. O Sorrowful Mother, Mary,
make me feel the compassion of your pierced heart for Jesus agonizing in Gethsemane.
Amen.
O my sweet Jesus, one hour has already passed since You came to this Garden.
Love took primacy over everything, making You suffer, all at once, everything
which the executioners will make You suffer through the whole course of your
most bitter Passion. Even more, Love compensates for it, and reaches the point
of making You suffer what they cannot do to You, in the most interior parts
of your Divine Person.
O my Jesus, I see you are already staggering, and yet you want to walk.
Tell me, O my Lord, where do you want to go? Oh, yes, I understand: you are
going to your beloved disciples. I want to go with you too, to hold you up
if you stagger.
O my Jesus, here is another bitterness for your heart: they have fallen
asleep. Always compassionate, you call them. You wake them; and with paternal
love you admonish them, recommending vigilance and prayer to them. Then you
return to the garden, but your heart is pierced with another wound. In this
wound, O my love, I see all the stabbings caused by souls consecrated to
you. Because of temptations, or state of soul, or their lack of mortification,
instead of watching and praying to come closer to you, they let themselves
go. Then, drowsy, instead of progressing in love and in union with you, they
fall back. How I sympathize with you, O passionate lover! And I make reparation
to you for all the unthankfulness of your most faithful ones. These are the
offenses which most sadden your adorable heart, whose bitterness makes you
become delirious.
O love without end, your love, which is already boiling in your veins, overcomes
everything and forgets everything. I see you prostrate on the ground. You
are praying, making reparation, offering yourself to the Father, and trying
to glorify him in all things, for the offenses committed against him by creatures.
O my Jesus, I too prostrate myself with you, and together with you I intend
to do what you are doing.
But, O my Jesus, what do I see? I see You already burdened with all the
sins of the world—our miseries, weaknesses, and enormous crimes; our shocking
ingratitude, dreadful injustice, and brutal cruelty; our hatred, massacres,
blasphemies, heresies, schisms, and abysmal human wickedness. They drive You
onward and oppress You; they wound You and crush You. And what do You do?
The blood that is boiling in your veins faces all these offenses, it bursts
the veins and pours out in ample streams. It bathes your entire person, and
runs down onto the ground, giving blood for offenses, life for death. O my
love, what a pitiful state you are reduced to! You are already dying. My
good Jesus, my sweet life, please, don't die! Raise your face from this ground
which you have bathed with your most precious blood.
Come to my arms! Let me die in your place as I embrace You! But I hear the
faltering and dying voice of my gentle Jesus, saying:
“Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not My will,
but Yours be done.”
My gentle Jesus, this is the second time that I hear You say these words.
O how your tortured voice pierces my heart! O Jesus, all the rebellions of
creatures come before you. You see that “Fiat Voluntas tua,” which should
have been the life of each creature, rejected by almost everyone, for which,
instead of finding life they find death. And wanting to give life to everyone
and make a solemn reparation to the Father for the rebellions of creatures,
you repeat three whole times:
“Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me—the cup of all the
souls that are lost by withdrawing from our Will. Oh! How bitter this cup
is for me! Yet, not my will but yours be done.”
But as you say this, the bitterness is so exceedingly intense that it reduces
you to the extremes. You are agonizing, and are in the act of exhaling your
last breath. O my good Jesus, since you are in my arms, I too want to unite
with you, to make reparation and give you compassion for all the offenses
and sins which are committed against your most holy Will. And at the same
time, I want to pray you that I may always do your most holy Will in everything.
Let your Will be my breath and my life. May it be my heartbeat, my heart,
my thought, my life, and my death.
But, I beg You, my Jesus, do not die! Where would I go without You? To whom
would I turn? Who else could help me? Everything would be finished for me.
Ah, do not leave me. Keep me always with You. Let me never be separated from
You even for an instant. Rather, let me soothe You, make reparation to You,
and console You for everyone—because I see that sins of all kinds burden You.
They weigh upon You; and they Therefore, my Love, I kiss your most holy head.
But, what do I see? All the evil thoughts; and You feel disgust for them.
For your most sacred head, each evil thought is a thorn which pricks You
bitterly. Ah, the crown of thorns which the Jews will place upon You cannot
be compared with these! How many crowns of thorns the evil thoughts of creatures
place upon your adorable head, to the point that your Blood drips everywhere,
from your forehead and from your hair!
Jesus, I compassionate You, and would like to place upon You as many crowns
of glory; and in order to soothe You, I offer You all the angelic intelligences
and your own intelligence, to give You an act of compassion and of reparation
for all. O Jesus, I kiss your sorrowful eyes. I see in them all the evil gazes
of creatures that make tears of Blood stream down your Face.
I offer You my compassion, and, in union with your Love, I want to soothe
your eyes by showing You all the beauties of Heaven and earth. Jesus, my Lord,
I kiss your most sacred ears. But what do I hear? In them I hear the echo
of horrendous blasphemies, cries of vengeance, and slander. The voices of
all souls resound in your most chaste ears.
Oh insatiable Love, I compassionate You, and I want to console You by making
resound in it all the harmonies of Heaven, the most sweet voice of dear Mama,
the ardent accents of Magdalene, and of all the loving souls. Jesus, my Life,
I want to impress a more fervent kiss on your face, whose beauty has no equal.
This is the face which the angels do not dare look away from, such is the
beauty that enraptures them. And yet, creatures defile it with spit, they
strike it with their hands and they trample it under their feet.
My love, what boldness! I would like to shout so loud until they run away!
I sympathize with you. And to make reparation for these insults I go before
the Most Holy Trinity, to ask for the kiss of the Father and of the Holy Spirit,
and for the incomparable caresses of their creative hands. I also go to our
heavenly mother to get her kisses, the caresses of her maternal hands, and
her profound adorations. Finally, I go to all the souls consecrated to you.
And I offer you all this, to make reparation for the offenses committed against
your most holy face.
My sweet Good, I kiss your most holy mouth, embittered by horrible blasphemies,
by the nausea of drunkenness and gluttony, by obscene discourses, by prayers
done badly, by evil teachings, and by all the evil that man does with his
tongue.
Jesus, I compassionate You, and I want to sweeten your mouth by offering
You all the angelic praises and the good use of the tongue made by many holy
Christians. My oppressed Love, I kiss your neck, and I see it loaded down
with ropes and chains, because of the attachments and the sins of creatures.
I compassionate You, and in order to relieve You, I offer You the indissoluble
union of the Divine Persons; and fusing myself in this union, I extend my
arms toward You, and forming a sweet chain of love around your neck, I want
to remove the ropes of the attachments, which almost suffocate You; and to
console You, I press You tightly to my heart. Divine Fortress, I kiss your
most holy shoulders. I see them lacerated, and your flesh almost torn to pieces
by the scandals and the evil examples of creatures.
I compassionate You, and in order to relieve You, I offer You your most
holy examples, the examples of the Queen Mama, and those of all the saints.
And I, O my Jesus, letting my kisses flow over each one of these wounds,
want to enclose in them the souls who, by force of scandals, have been snatched
from your Heart, and so rejoin the flesh of your Most Holy Humanity.
My labored Jesus, I kiss your breast, which I see wounded by coldness, lukewarmness,
lack of reciprocity and ingratitude of creatures. I compassionate You, and
in order to relieve You, I offer You the reciprocal love of the Father and
the Holy Spirit and the perfect mutual love of the Three Divine Persons.
And plunging into your love, O my Jesus, I want to shelter You in order
to reject the new blows that creatures throw at You with their sins; and
taking your love, I want to wound them with it, that they may never again
dare to offend You; and I want to pour it upon your breast, to soothe You
and to heal You.
My Jesus, I kiss your creative hands. I see that all the bad actions of
creatures, as so many nails, pierce your most holy hands. So, they are run
through, not by three nails as on the cross, but by as many nails as the
evil works which creatures do. I compassionate You, and to give You relief,
I offer You all the holy works, and the courage of the martyrs in giving
their blood and life for love of You. In sum, O my Jesus, I would like to
offer You all the good works, in order to remove from You the many nails
of the evil works. O Jesus, I kiss your most holy feet, always untiring in
searching for souls. In them You enclose all the steps of creatures; but
You feel many of them run away, and You would want to stop them. At each
of their evil steps, You feel a nail being driven into You, and You want
to use their very nails in order to nail them to your love; and the pain
You feel, and the effort You make in order to nail them to your love is so
intense and so great, that You tremble all over. My God and my Good, I compassionate
You, and in order to console You, I offer You the steps of the good religious
and of all the faithful souls, who expose their lives in order to save souls.
O Jesus, I kiss your Heart.
You continue to agonize, not for what the Jews will make You suffer, but
for the pain which all the offenses of creatures cause You.
In these hours You want to give primacy to love, the second place to all
sins, for which You expiate, repair, glorify the Father, and placate the Divine
Justice; and the third to the Jews. In this way You show that the passion
which the Jews will make You suffer will be nothing but the representation
of the double, most bitter passion which love and sin make You suffer. And
this is why I see, all concentrated in your Heart: the lance of love, the
lance of sin; and you wait for the third one, the lance of the Jews. Your
Heart, suffocated by love, suffers violent movements, impatient rushes of
love, desires which consume You, and burning heartbeats, which would want
to give life to every heart. And it is exactly here, in your Heart, that You
feel all the pain that creatures cause You, who, with their evil desires,
disordered affections, profaned heartbeats, instead of wanting your love,
look for other loves.
Jesus, how much You suffer! I see You faint, submerged by the waves of our
iniquities. I compassionate You, and I want to soothe the bitterness of your
Heart, pierced three times, by offering You the eternal sweetnesses and the
most sweet love of dear Mama Mary, as well as those of all your true lovers.
And now, O my Jesus, let my poor heart draw life from your Heart, that I
may live only with your Heart; and in each offense You will receive, let me
be ever ready to offer You a relief, a comfort, a reparation, an act of uninterrupted
love.
Reflections and Practices.
During the second hour in Gethsemane, all the sins of all times—past, present
and future—present themselves before Jesus, and he takes them upon himself
in order to give complete glory to his Father. So, Jesus Christ expiated,
prayed, and felt all our moods in His Heart without ever ceasing to pray.
Do we always pray, in whatever mood we may be —cold, hard, tempted? Do we
give Jesus the pains of our souls as reparation and relief in order to copy
Him completely, thinking that each mood of ours is a pain of Jesus? We must
place it around Him as a pain of Jesus, to compassionate Him and relieve Him.
And if possible we must say to Him: ‘You have suffered too much. Take rest,
and we will suffer in your place.’
Do we get discouraged, or do we remain steadfastly at Jesus' feet, giving
him everything we suffer, so that he can find his own humanity in us? In other
words, do we serve as Jesus' humanity? What did the humanity of Jesus do?
It glorified his Father, it atoned and pleaded for the salvation of souls.
Now, do we have these three intentions of Jesus in everything we do, so as
to be able to say that we enclose the complete humanity of Jesus Christ in
ourselves? In our moments of darkness, do we place the intention of making
the light of truth shine in others? And when we pray with fervor, do we place
the intention of melting the ice of many hearts hardened in sin? My Jesus,
in order to compassionate You and relieve You from the total exhaustion in
which You find Yourself, I rise up to Heaven and make your own Divinity my
own; and placing It around You, I want to move all the offenses of creatures
away from You.
I want to offer you your beauty to drive away from you the ugliness of sin;
your holiness to drive away from you the horror of all those souls that make
you feel such repugnance because they are dead to grace; your peace to drive
away from you the dissensions, rebellions and agitations of all creatures;
your harmonies to refresh your ears offended by the waves of so many evil
voices.
My Jesus, I intend to offer you as many divine acts of reparation as offenses
you receive. They assault you as if they wanted to put you to death, and with
your own acts I want to give you life. Then, O my Jesus, I want to cast a
wave of your divinity over all creatures, so that at your divine touch they
will no longer dare to offend you. O Jesus, this is the only way I will be
able to give you compassion for all the offenses you receive from creatures.
O Jesus, my dear life, may my prayers and my pains always rise up toward
heaven to make the light of grace rain on everyone, and to absorb your own
life into myself.
Thanksgiving Prayer
after each hour of Agony in the Garden
O my sweetest Lord, I thank you for being pleased to have me in your company
at least for an hour during your tremendous agony in the garden. Oh, my good
Jesus, how little comfort did you find in me. Yet, your infinite love and
the overflowing charity of your merciful heart make you find relief even in
the least act of compassion that the creature shows you. I will never forget
the sight of your adorable person trembling, struck down, crushed, humiliated
in the dust, and all covered with the blood you sweat, in the dark horror
of Gethsemane! O Jesus, I have experienced that to be with you in your sufferings,
to feel even one drop of the distressing bitterness of your divine heart
is the greatest fortune which anyone can have on earth.
O Jesus, I gladly renounce all vain and earthly things. I only want you,
my oppressed, suffering, afflicted Lord. From this garden, to Calvary, I always
want to give you my faithful and sweet company.
O Jesus, make me be captured with you, and dragged to the courts with you.
Let me share in the abuses, the insults, the spit and the slaps your enemies
are going to cover you with. Take me with you from Pilate to Herod and back
to Pilate again. Tie me to the column with you, and let me feel a part of
your scourgings. Jesus, pierce me with some of your thorns. Let me be condemned
to death by crucifixion with you: you, as victim of love for me, and I as
victim of atonement for my sins.
Give me the portion of the Cyrenian, to follow you to Calvary; and there,
let me be nailed to the cross with you, and then agonize and die with you.
O sorrowful mother, you have given me help to sympathize with agonizing
Jesus in the garden. Help me now to be crucified with you on the same cross
of Jesus, and to know how to offer him the most worthy reparations with the
same merits of his passion and death on the cross. Amen
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
7th HOUR
From 11 P.M. to 12 P.M.
The third hour of agony in the Garden of Gethsemane
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
The three hours of agony in the Garden of Gethsemane
Introductory Prayer
O my divine redeemer, Jesus, please take me with you, together with your
three dear apostles, to assist at your agony in the Garden of Olives. Admonished
by the sweet rebuke You gave to Peter and the other two sleeping disciples,
I want to stay awake for at least an hour with You in Gethsemane; I want to
feel at least one sharp pain of your agonizing Heart, one sigh of your labored
breathing.
I want to fix my eyes on your divine face and contemplate how it turns pale,
how it becomes troubled, how it is oppressed by anguish, how it bends low,
even to the dust! O my suffering Jesus, I already see you staggering and falling,
now to the left and now to the right. I see you join your loving, crippled
hands. I begin to hear your moans, your cries of incomprehensible pain which
you raise to heaven. O my Jesus, agonizing in the dreary Garden of Gethsemane,
during this hour in which I will keep you company, make a splash, a stream
of that adorable blood flow on me, which is streaming from all your adorable
members.
O most precious bath of my greatest good, Jesus, who is agonizing for me,
let me drink you to the last drop, and with you, drink at least one sip of
the bitter chalice of my beloved. Let me feel inside of me the pains of his
divine heart. Indeed, let me feel my heart broken by the sorrow of having
offended my Lord, who reduces himself to the agony of death for me.
Yes, my Jesus, give me grace, help me to suffer, to sigh and to cry with
you, at least for one hour in the Garden of Olives. O Sorrowful Mother, Mary,
make me feel the compassion of your pierced heart for Jesus agonizing in Gethsemane.
Amen.
My dear Jesus, my heart can't bear it any longer: I look at you and see
that you continue to agonize. Streams of blood are flowing from all over
your body, and so profusely that, unable to stand any longer, you fall into
a pool of blood. O my love, my heart breaks to see you so weak and exhausted!
Your adorable face and your creative hands rest on the ground and become stained
with blood. It seems to me that at the rivers of iniquity which creatures
send you, you want to give rivers of blood to drown these offenses in it,
and with this, give each creature the assurance of your pardon.
But, please, O my Jesus, rise; what You suffer is too much. Let it be enough
for your Love! And while my lovable Jesus seems to be dying in His own Blood,
Love gives Him new life. I see Him move with difficulty. He stands up, and
soaked as He is with blood and mud, He seems to want to walk, but not having
strength, He can barely drag Himself.
Sweet Life of mine, let me carry You in my arms. Are You perhaps going to
your dear disciples? But what is not the sorrow of your adorable Heart in
finding them asleep again! And You, with trembling and feeble voice, call
them:
“My sons, do not sleep! The hour is near. Do you not see how I have reduced
Myself? Oh please, help Me, do not abandon Me in these extreme hours!”
And almost staggering, You are about to fall near them, while John extends
his arms to sustain You. You are so unrecognizable that if it were not for
the gentleness and tenderness of your voice, they would not have recognized
you. Then, recommending that they watch and pray, you return to the garden,
but with a second wound in your heart. In this wound, O my love, I see all
the sins of those souls that, in spite of the manifestation of your favors
in the form of gifts, kisses and caresses, in the nights of trial forget about
your love and your gifts, and remain as it were, drowsy and sleepy, thus
losing the spirit of continuous prayer and watchfulness.
My Jesus, how true it is that after having seen you and having tasted your
gifts, great strength is necessary to stand firm when deprived of them. Only
a miracle can make such souls endure the test. So, while I sympathize with
you for these souls, whose neglect, levity and offenses are the most bitter
to your heart, I beg you: If they should take even a single step which could
displease you in the least, surround them with so much grace that will stop
them, so that they may not lose the spirit of continuous prayer.
My gentle Jesus, as you return to the garden, it seems that you cannot go
on. Your face is covered with blood and dirt, but you raise it to heaven and
repeat for the third time:
“Father, if it is possible, let this chalice pass from me. Holy Father,
help me! I need comfort. It is true that, because of the sins taken upon
myself, I am nauseating, loathsome and the least among men before your infinite
majesty. Your justice is roused to anger against me. But look at me, O Father:
I am always your Son, who is one with you Please, Father, help me, have pity
on me! Do not leave me without comfort!”
Then I seem to hear you, O my tender love, calling your dear mother for
help:
“Sweet mother, hold me tightly in your arms as you did when I was a child.
Give me that milk I used to take from you, to refresh me and to sweeten the
bitterness of my agony. Give me your heart which was perfect contentment for
me. My mother, Mary Magdalene, dear apostles, all you who love me: help me!
Comfort me! Do not leave me alone in these extreme moments. Everyone, gather
around me. Comfort me with your company and your love.”
Jesus, my love, who can bear to see you in such extremes? What heart could
ever be so hard that it would not break, seeing you so drowned in your own
blood? Who would not shed streams of bitter tears, hearing the sorrowful words
with which you seek help and comfort? My Jesus, console yourself. Now I see
the Father who is sending you an angel for comfort and help, so that you
can come out of this state of agony and be able to turn yourself over to
the Jews. While you are with the angel, I will go around heaven and earth.
You will permit me to take this blood which you have shed, so that I can give
it to all men as the pledge of the salvation of each, and bring back to you
in exchange, the comfort of their affections, heartbeats, thoughts, steps
and deeds.
My heavenly mother, I come to you so that together we may go to all souls
to give them Jesus' blood. Gentle mother, Jesus wants comfort, and the greatest
comfort we can give him is to bring him souls. Mary Magdalene, come with us.
All you angels, come and see how Jesus has been reduced. He wants comfort
from everyone, and he finds himself in such a state of prostration that he
will not refuse anyone.
O light of the sun, come to cast out the darkness of this night to give
Jesus comfort. O stars, with your flickering rays, come down from Heaven.
Come, to give Jesus comfort. Flowers of the earth, come with your fragrances.
Birds, come with your singing. Come, elements of the earth, to comfort Jesus.
Come, O sea, to refresh and wash Jesus. He is our Creator, our Life, our
All. Come, all, to comfort Him, to give Him homage as our sovereign Lord.
But, oh, Jesus is not looking for lights, stars, flowers and birds. He wants
souls, souls! My gentle good Jesus, here is everyone together with me. Your
dear mother is near you. Please do rest in her arms. It will be a comfort
for her as well, to press you to her bosom, for she has shared abundantly
in your sorrowful agony. Mary Magdalene is here too, as well as all the loving
souls of all centuries. O Jesus, please accept them, and say a word of forgiveness
and of love to everyone. Bind them all in your love so that no soul may ever
escape you again.
But, ah, it seems to me that You say, O daughter, how many souls flee Me
by force and fall into eternal ruin! So how can my sorrow be soothed—if I
love a single soul as much as I love all souls together?
Conclusion of the Agony
Agonizing Jesus, while it seems that your life is about to be extinguished,
I can already hear the death-rattle of the agony. Your beautiful eyes are
eclipsed by approaching death; all your most holy members have gone limp.
Many times I can hear that you are not breathing. I feel my heart break for
the pain. I embrace you and feel you are cold. I shake you but you give no
signs of life. Jesus, are you dead?
Afflicted Mama, Angels of Heaven, come to cry over Jesus, and do not permit
that I continue to live without Him. Ah, I cannot! I press Him more tightly
to myself, and I hear Him taking another breath —and then, again, He gives
no sign of life! I call Him: “Jesus, Jesus, my Life, do not die!”
But I already hear the clamor of your enemies, who are coming to take You.
Who will defend You in your state?
Roused, He seems to rise from death to life. He looks at me and says:
“Child, are you here? Have you not been a witness of my pains and of the
many deaths I suffered? Then know, O daughter, that in these three hours of
most bitter agony, I have enclosed in Myself all the lives of creatures and
have suffered all their pains and their very deaths, giving to each one my
own Life. My agonies will sustain theirs; for their sake, my suffering and
death will change into a fountain of sweetness and of life. How much souls
cost Me! Were I at least requited! You have seen that while I was dying, I
would return to breathe again: those were the deaths of the creatures that
I felt within Me!”
My panting Jesus, since You also wanted to enclose my life in You, and therefore
also my death, I pray You, for this most bitter agony of yours, to come to
my assistance at the moment of my death. I have given You my heart as refuge
and rest, my arms to sustain You, and all of my being at your disposal; and
— oh, how gladly I would give myself into the hands of your enemies, to die
in your place!
Come, O life of my heart, at that moment, to return to me all I have given
You: your company, your Heart as bed and rest, your arms as support, your
labored breath to alleviate my labors; in such a way that, in breathing, I
will breathe through your breath which, like purifying air, will purify me
of any stain, and will dispose me to enter the eternal beatitude.
Even more, my sweet Jesus, then You will give your very Most Holy Humanity
to my soul, so that, in looking at me, You may see me through Yourself; and
in looking at Yourself, You may find nothing for which to judge me. Then You
will bathe me in your Blood; You will clothe me with the candid garment of
your Most Holy Will; You will adorn me with your Love, and giving me the last
kiss, You will let me take flight from earth unto Heaven.
And now I pray you to do for all the dying, what I have asked for myself.
Hug them all in your embrace of love. And giving them the kiss of union with
yourself, save them all and do not permit anyone to be lost.
My saddened, good Jesus, I offer you this hour in memory of your passion
and death, to disarm the just wrath of God for so many sins, to obtain the
conversion of all sinners, for peace among peoples, for our sanctification,
and in suffrage for the souls of purgatory.
Now I see that your enemies are approaching, and you want to leave me to
go meet them. Jesus, permit me to impress a kiss on your lips, which Judas
will dare to kiss with his infernal kiss. Let me wipe your face, bathed in
blood, which is about to be struck repeatedly and covered with spit. Press
me close to your heart, and never permit me to be separated from you. I will
follow you. Bless me.
Reflections and Practices.
In this third hour in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus asked for help from
heaven, and his pains were so numerous that he even asked for comfort from
his disciples. Now, do I always ask for help from heaven in any circumstance,
pain or misfortune? And if I turn to creatures as well, do I do so in an orderly
way, going to those who can piously comfort me? Am I at least resigned if
I don't receive those comforts I was hoping for, making use of the indifference
of creatures to abandon myself even more in Jesus' arms?
Jesus was comforted by an angel. Now, can I say that I am Jesus' angel,
by being near him to comfort him and take part in his bitternesses? In order
to be able to be a true angel to Jesus, I must receive my pains as pains sent
to me by him, and so, as divine pains. Only then can I dare to comfort a
God so embittered. Otherwise, if I take pains in a human way, I cannot use
them to comfort this Man-God, and therefore I cannot be His angel.
In the sufferings that Jesus sends me, it seems like he sends me the chalice
too, into which I must pour the fruit of these sufferings. And these pains,
suffered with love and resignation, will be transformed into the sweetest
nectar for Jesus. And I will go to my suffering Jesus and offer the chalice
that He sent me, and my sorrows now turned into sweetness. Like an Angel,
I will bring it to his lips that He may drink it, to comfort Him and soothe
Him. In every sorrow I will then say to myself, “Jesus is calling me to be
an Angel close to Him. He wants my comfort and, for this reason, He makes
me share in his sorrows.
Jesus, my Love, in my suffering, I search for your Heart to rest, and in
your suffering I wish to make reparation with mine. In this exchange, may
I be your Angel of consolation.
Thanksgiving Prayer
after each hour of Agony in the Garden
O my sweetest Lord, I thank you for being pleased to have me in your company
at least for an hour during your tremendous agony in the garden. Oh, my good
Jesus, how little comfort did you find in me. Yet, your infinite love and
the overflowing charity of your merciful heart make you find relief even in
the least act of compassion that the creature shows you. I will never forget
the sight of your adorable person trembling, struck down, crushed, humiliated
in the dust, and all covered with the blood you sweat, in the dark horror
of Gethsemane! O Jesus, I have experienced that to be with you in your sufferings,
to feel even one drop of the distressing bitterness of your divine heart
is the greatest fortune which anyone can have on earth.
O Jesus, I gladly renounce all vain and earthly things. I only want you,
my oppressed, suffering, afflicted Lord. From this garden, to Calvary, I always
want to give you my faithful and sweet company.
O Jesus, make me be captured with you, and dragged to the courts with you.
Let me share in the abuses, the insults, the spit and the slaps your enemies
are going to cover you with. Take me with you from Pilate to Herod and back
to Pilate again. Tie me to the column with you, and let me feel a part of
your scourgings. Jesus, pierce me with some of your thorns. Let me be condemned
to death by crucifixion with you: you, as victim of love for me, and I as
victim of atonement for my sins.
Give me the portion of the Cyrenian, to follow you to Calvary; and there,
let me be nailed to the cross with you, and then agonize and die with you.
O sorrowful mother, you have given me help to sympathize with agonizing
Jesus in the garden. Help me now to be crucified with you on the same cross
of Jesus, and to know how to offer him the most worthy reparations with the
same merits of his passion and death on the cross. Amen.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
8th HOUR
From midnight until 1 a.m.
Jesus is captured in the Garden of Olives.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
My Jesus, we have already reached midnight. I hear your enemies approaching.
Composing Yourself, drying your Blood, and feeling strengthened by the comfort
You have received, You return to your disciples. You call them and admonish
them; and, taking them with You, You go to meet your enemies. In this way
with your promptness You make reparation for my slowness, unwillingness, and
laziness in working and suffering for your Love.
But, O my gentle love, what a moving scene I see! The first to meet you
is wicked Judas who comes up to you, throws his arms around your neck, greets
you and kisses you. And you, my ardent love, do not refuse to kiss those infernal
lips. You embrace him and press him to your heart, wanting to snatch him
from hell by giving him new demonstrations of love.
My Jesus, how is it possible not to love You? The tenderness of your Love
is so great that it should jerk every heart into loving You —and yet You are
not loved! My Jesus, with this kiss, You make reparation for all the betrayals,
pretenses, and deceptions worked under the cloak of friendship and sanctity,
especially by consecrated souls. And with this kiss, You ask and obtain pardon
for every and any penitent sinner that returns, humbled, to your most holy
Heart.
O how sweetly the words that You spoke to Judas descend into my Heart:
“Friend, why have you come?”
Ah, it seems as though You address the same words to me—not in calling me
“Friend,” but with the sweet name of “child,” saying, My daughter, for what
have you come? You say it to hear me answer You, “Jesus, I come to love You.”
“Why have you come?”, You repeat to me when I wake up in the morning; “Why
have you come?”, if I pray; “Why have you come?”, You repeat to me in the
Holy Host, if I come to receive You into my heart. What a beautiful call for
me and for all!
But how many, to your “Why have you come?”, answer: “I come to offend You!”
Others, pretending not to hear You, give themselves to all kinds of sins,
and answer your “Why have you come?” by going to hell! How much compassion
I feel for You, O my Jesus! I would like to take the very ropes with which
your enemies are about to bind You, in order to bind these souls and spare
You this sorrow.
But, again, I hear your most tender voice which says, as You go to meet
your enemies:
“Who are you looking for?”
And they answer:
“Jesus the Nazarene”.
And You, to them:
“I Am”
Oh, what wickedness and ingratitude! Instead of humbling themselves and
lovingly throwing themselves at your feet to ask your forgiveness, abusing
your goodness and despising your graces and miracles, they lay their hands
on you, and with ropes and chains, tie you and immobilize you. They throw
you to the ground, trample you under their feet and tear out your hair. And,
with inconceivable patience, You remain silent—suffering in atonement for
the offenses of sinners, who do not surrender, but harden their hearts still
more in spite of your miracles. With your ropes and chains, You rend the
chains of our sins and bind us with the sweet chains of love.
You lovingly correct Peter who wants to defend You even by cutting off Malchus’
ear. In this way, You want to make reparation for good works done without
holy prudence and for those who fall into sin through excessive zeal.
My most patient Jesus, these ropes and chains seem to add something more
beautiful to your Sacred Humanity. Your Forehead becomes more majestic, so
much so that it even attracts the attention of your enemies. Your eyes radiate
more light—and your Holy Face reflects a supreme peace and sweetness that
even charms your executioners. With a few gentle and penetrating words, You
make them tremble, and if they dare to offend You it is only because You permit
it.
O bound and enchained love, are you going to be tied for me, to show an
even greater love for me, and then permit that I, your little child, be without
chains? No, no. Tie me with your most holy hands, using your own ropes and
chains. So, while I kiss your divine forehead, I pray you to bind my whole
being: all my thoughts, my eyes, my ears, my tongue, my heart, my affections.
And at the same time, tie all creatures, so that, feeling the sweetness of
your loving chains, they will not dare to offend you any more.
My most tender Jesus, You have already handed Yourself over to your enemies,
giving them the power to do whatever they wish with You. My Jesus, I, also,
put myself in your Hands so that You may freely do with me whatever pleases
You. United with You, I want to follow your Will, share in your reparations,
and suffer your pains.
I want to remain always in your Presence so that there is no offense I do
not repair, no bitterness I do not soothe, no spittle or insult that You receive
that I do not cover with my kisses and caresses.
In your falls, my hands will always be ready to lift You. I want to be with
You always and I do not wish to leave You abandoned. And to be sure of this,
fuse me with Yourself. Then I will be in your mind, in your gaze, in your
Heart, and in all of You—so that what You do, I will also do. In this way,
I will always have You for a faithful companion and none of your pains will
be able to elude me, so that I can give You my love on behalf of all creatures.
My dear good Jesus, it is already one o'clock in the morning, and my mind
is beginning to drift asleep. I will do all I can to stay awake, but if sleep
should take me by surprise, I will leave myself in you to follow whatever
you do. What is more, you yourself will do it for me. So, my Jesus, I leave
my thoughts in you to defend you from your enemies; my breath as escort and
company; my heartbeat to always tell you that I love you, and to make good
for the love which the others do not give you; the drops of my blood to make
reparation, and to give back to you the honors and the esteem that the others
will take from you with their insults, spit and slaps.
O my Jesus, embrace me and bless me. If You want me to sleep, make me sleep
in your adorable Heart. As your heartbeats intensify in Love and suffering,
may they awaken me often, so that our communion will never be broken.
Reflections and Practices.
Seeing the Will of the Father in his enemies, Jesus readily handed himself
over to them.
When I am deceived or betrayed by creatures, am I as ready to forgive as
Jesus was? Do I take all the wrongs I receive from creatures, from the hands
of God? Am I ready to do everything Jesus wants from me? In the crosses and
the mistreatment I receive, can I say that my patience is similar to Jesus'
patience?
My chained Jesus, let your chains bind my heart and keep it steadfast, ready
to suffer whatever you want.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
9th HOUR
From 1 a.m. to 2 a.m.
Pushed from a rock, Jesus falls into the Cedron Stream.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
.
My beloved Good, my poor mind follows You between vigil and sleep. How can
I leave myself prey to sleep, when I see that everyone leaves You and runs
away from You? The Apostles themselves, the fervent Peter, who a little while
ago said he wanted to give his life for You; the beloved disciple whom, with
so much love, You allowed to rest upon your Heart – ah, they all abandon You,
and leave You at the mercy of your cruel enemies!
My Jesus, You are alone! Your most pure eyes look around to see if at least
one of those favored by You is following You to prove to You his love and
to defend You. And as You see that no one – no one has remained faithful to
You, your Heart catches, and You burst into crying. You feel more pain for
the abandonment of your most faithful ones, than for what the very enemies
are doing to You.
My Jesus, don't cry, or else let me cry together with you. But my gentle
Jesus seems to say to me: “Ah, my child, let us weep together for the lot
of so many souls consecrated to me, who, for little trials or for incidents
of life, no longer attend to me and leave me alone; for so many others, timid
and cowardly, who, for lack of courage and trust, abandon me. Let us weep
for so many priests, who, not finding any profit in sacred things and in the
administration of the sacraments, do not attend to me. For others who preach,
celebrate and hear confession for love of their own interests and selfglory,
so that while it seems they are around me I remain ever alone. O my child,
how hard this abandonment is for Me! Not only do my eyes weep, but my Heart
bleeds! O I pray you to make reparation for my bitter pain by promising never
to leave Me alone.”
Yes, O my Jesus, with the strength of your Divine Will and the help of your
grace, I promise never to leave you alone. But as you weep over the abandonment
of your dear ones, O Jesus, your enemies spare you no possible outrage. Bound
and tied as you are, my good Jesus, so that you can't even take a step, they
trample you and drag you through those ways full of rocks and thorns. So,
there is no movement they make you do which does not make you stumble on the
rocks and be pricked by the thorns. O my Jesus, while they drag You, I see
that You leave a trail with your Precious Blood and with the golden hairs
that they tear from your Head. My Life and my All, permit me to gather your
steps and bind them to all the steps that creatures take to offend You, even
at night. Indeed, some use the night to offend You even more than the daylight—some
with meetings, others with pleasures or theaters, and still others with sacrilegious
thefts. My Jesus, I unite with You to make reparation for all these offenses.
O my Jesus, we are now at the Cedron Stream, and the wicked Jews shove you
in. As they do this, they make you strike so hard against a rock there, that
from your mouth you shed your most precious blood, leaving that rock marked
with it. Then they pull you down into those foul waters, making them enter
into your ears, into your mouth, into your nose. O unsurpassable love! You
are soaked and, as it were, cloaked by those foul, nauseating and cold waters.
In this state, you realistically represent the pitiful state of creatures
when they commit sin. Oh, how they are covered inside and out by a cloak of
filthiness which disgusts heaven and whoever may see them, and draws down
on themselves the thunderbolts of the divine justice! O life of my life, could
there ever be a greater love? To strip us of this mantle of filthiness, you
permit your enemies to drag you down into this stream. And so you make reparation
for the sacrileges and the coldness of the souls that receive you sacrilegiously,
forcing you to enter their hearts and making you feel, more than you do from
the stream, all the nausea of their souls!
You also permit that these waters penetrate deep into your bowels; so much
so, that the enemies, fearing that You may be drowned, in order to spare You
for greater torments, lift You up. But You are so disgusting that they themselves
feel nauseated to touch You. My tender Jesus, You are now out of the stream.
My heart cannot stand to see you bathed in these nauseating waters like this.
I see that you are trembling from head to foot because of the cold. You look
around, searching with your eyes for that which you do not do with your voice:
at least someone to dry you, clean you and warm you—but in vain. No one is
moved to compassion for you. Your enemies ridicule and mock you, your dear
ones have abandoned you, and your gentle mother is far away because the Father
has so disposed it!
O Jesus, here I am! Come into my arms. I want to weep until I form a bath
to wash you. With my hands I want to clean you and order your disheveled hair.
My love, I want to enclose you in my heart and warm you with the warmth of
my affections. I want to perfume you with my continuous desires. I want to
make reparation for all these offenses, and unite my life to yours to save
all souls. I want to offer you my heart as a resting place, to restore you
some from the pains you have suffered up to now. Then, we will resume the
way of your passion together.
Reflections and Practices.
In this hour, Jesus places Himself at the mercy of his enemies, who go so
far as to throw Him into the Cedron stream. But gracious Jesus looks at them
lovingly and endures everything for love of them. Do I cast myself upon God’s
mercy? Can I say that I am like a rubber ball in the hands of my Jesus, not
intent on what I am suffering, but on what my Jesus wants from me? Have I
ever thought about the purpose of a rubber ball? It’s for playing, and very
often Jesus likes to play with a soul, holding her in his hands just as he
holds a ball, now squeezing it, now hitting it, now throwing it in the air
or on to the ground, and the ball does not speak, allowing Jesus to do what
He will with it.
Similarly, we must endure everything that Jesus wants from us and not mind
if, like a little ball in Jesus’ hands, we feel pain as we are hit and struck,
as long as we keep Jesus amused, since He knows how profitable this is for
us, and how He will reward us in this and the next life. Sometimes, Jesus
steps on the ball with his feet, showing that He does not care for it, and
the soul, pressing close to his divine feet, suffers Jesus’ humiliation and
indifference. At other times, He wants to hold the ball to his Heart, and
if the soul was glad to have been Jesus’ toy, both in humiliation and in suffering,
the loving Jesus will amuse her in his own Heart, and will reveal to her
the contentments of his divine Heart. In my weaknesses and failures, Am I
ready to pick myself up again and throw myself into the arms of Jesus? Tormented
Jesus was thrown into the Cedron Stream and experienced suffocation, nausea,
and disgust.
Do I detest every stain and shadow of sin? Am I ready to shelter Jesus in
my heart so that He does not experience the disgust that other souls cause
Him through sin, consoling Him for the many times I myself have caused it?
My tormented Jesus, do not spare me in anything, but grant that I may be
the object of your loving, divine games.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
10th HOUR
From 2 A.M. to 3 A.M.
Jesus is presented to Annas.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
Jesus, be always with me. Sweet Mama, let us follow Jesus together.
My Jesus, divine sentinel, you are in my heart watching over me. And not
wanting to remain alone without me, you wake me and make me find myself together
with you in Annas' house.
You are now at that point in which Annas interrogates you concerning your
doctrine and your disciples. To defend the glory of the Father, O Jesus, you
open your most sacred mouth, and with a ringing and dignified voice, respond:
“I have spoken in public and everyone who is here has heard me.”
At your dignified words everyone trembles. But, oh, what wickedness! Wanting
to honor Annas, a servant with an ironclad hand comes up to you and slaps
you so hard that you stagger, and your most holy face turns livid.
Now, my gentle life, I understand why you woke me. You were right; who would
sustain You at this moment, as You are about to fall? Your enemies burst into
satanic laughter, whistling and clapping, applauding an act so unjust. And
You, staggering, have no one to lean on. My Jesus, I embrace You. And forming
a wall with my body to support You, I offer You my cheek—to come quickly
and boldly to bear any pain for your Love. I suffer this outrage with You,
and I make reparation with You for the cowardice of so many souls who easily
become discouraged; for those who fail to speak the truth out of fear; for
the lack of respect due to priests, and for all murmuring.
My suffering Jesus, I see that Annas is sending you to Caiphas. Your enemies
shove you down the stairs. My love, in this painful fall you make reparation
for those who fall into sin at nighttime, taking advantage of the darkness.
And you call heretics and unbelievers to the light of the faith.
I want to follow you in these reparations as well, and I send you my sighs
to defend you from your enemies, until you reach Caiaphas. Continue to watch
over me while I am asleep, and wake me when you need me. Now, give me a kiss,
and bless me; and I will kiss your heart and continue my sleep in it.
Reflections and Practices.
Jesus, brought before Annas, is questioned by him about His doctrine and
about His disciples. To glorify the Father, he answered regarding his doctrine,
but to avoid offending charity he did not touch on his disciples.
Now when I am asked to glorify the Lord, am I fearless and courageous, or
am I subject to human respect? I must always speak the truth, even in the
presence of those who are influential.
In my conversations, do I always seek the glory of God? Do I seek God’s
glory by enduring everything patiently as Jesus did? Do I always avoid speaking
badly of my neighbors, excusing their faults when I hear others speaking ill
of them?
Jesus watches over our heart. But do I keep watch over Jesus’ Heart so that
He receives no offense for which I am unwilling to make reparation? In everything
I do, am I always alert so that my every thought, glance, word, affection,
heartbeat, and desire stay like sentinels around Jesus, keeping watch over
his Heart and offering reparation for all the offenses It receives? To make
this reparation to his Heart, do I ask Jesus to keep watch over our every
act and to help us keep watch over our hearts?
Every act that we perform in God is a Divine Life that we acquire within
us. Since we are very limited and God is immense, we are incapable of enclosing
God within our menial acts. It is necessary, then, that we multiply these
acts as much as possible at least to increase our capacity to understand and
love.
When my Jesus calls me, am I ready to respond? God’s call can be heard in
many ways: through inspiration, reading good books, and by good example. One
may even feel it tangibly through the attraction of grace and even in intemperate
changes of weather.
My sweet Jesus, may your voice always echo in my heart. May everything that
surrounds me both internally and externally be a continuous voice that always
calls me to love You. And may the harmony of your divine voice keep me from
listening to any distracting human voice.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
11th HOUR
From 3 to 4 AM
Jesus in the house of Caiaphas.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
My afflicted and abandoned Good, while my weak nature sleeps in your sorrowful
Heart, my sleep is often interrupted by the pangs of love and sorrow of your
Divine Heart. Between vigil and sleep, I hear the blows that they give You,
so I wake up and I say:
"My poor Jesus, abandoned by everyone! There is no one who takes your part.
But from within your Heart I offer You my life as support for You, as they
knock You about."
Then I drowse off again. But another pang of love of your divine heart wakes
me, and I feel my ears deafened by the insults they give you, by the whisperings,
the shouts and the stirring of people.
My love, why is everyone against you? What have you done, that, like so
many rabid wolves, they want to tear you apart? I feel my blood freeze as
I hear the preparations your enemies are making. I tremble and become sad,
while thinking about what I can do to defend you.
Having me in his heart, my sad Jesus presses me closer to himself, and says:
“My child, I have done no wrong, and [at the same time] I have done everything.
I have committed the “crime” of love which contains all sacrifices—love, which
is of immeasurable cost. We are still at the beginning. Remain in my heart,
observe everything, love me, be silent, and learn. Make your chilled blood
flow in my veins to give relief to my blood which is all ablaze. Make your
shivering flow in my members so that, unified in me, you may become steadfast;
and warm yourself so you can feel part of my pains, as well as acquire strength
by seeing me suffer so much. This is the best way to defend me. Be faithful
and attentive.”
My dear love, your enemies are making so much noise that I cannot go back
to sleep. The shoves are becoming more violent. I can hear the rattling of
the chains. They have bound you so tightly that blood is dripping from your
wrists, and it stains those streets. Remember that my blood flows in yours,
and as yours is poured out mine kisses it, adores it, and makes reparation.
May it be light to all who offend you at nighttime, and magnet to draw all
hearts around you.
My love and my all, as they drag you, and the air is deafened by shouts
and whistles, you now come before Caiaphas. You are all meek, modest, humble;
your sweetness and patience is such as to terrorize even your enemies; and
Caiphas, full of rage, would want to devour You. O how easily sin and innocence
are distinguished!
My Love, You stand before Caiphas to be condemned as the guiltiest of criminals.
Caiaphas now asks the witnesses what your crimes are. Oh, he would have done
better to ask about your love! Someone accuses you of one thing and another
accuses you of something else, blundering and contradicting each other. While
they are accusing you, the soldiers at your side pull your hair. They slap
your most sacred face so hard that it echoes in all the room. They twist your
lips. They beat you. You remain silent and suffer. When you look at them,
the light of your eyes descends into their hearts, and unable to resist, they
go away from you. But others take their place to torture you more.
Peter's three denials
In the midst of so many accusations and outrages, I see You become more
attentive. Your Heart pounds violently as if it were going to burst for the
pain. Tell me, my afflicted Good, what is it? I see that your love is so
great that You anxiously await that which your enemies are doing to You,
and You offer it for our salvation. With perfect calmness, your heart makes
reparation for slander, hatred, false testimony, the wrong done to the innocent
with premeditation, for those who offend you by instigation of their leaders,
and for the offenses of the clergy.
United to You, I join in your reparations, and I feel a new sorrow grieving
your most tender Heart—one never felt before. Tell me, tell me, what is it?
Share everything with me, O Jesus.
“My child, do you want to know what it is? I hear Peter's voice saying that
he does not know me. Then he swears again and again that he does not know
me; and finally, vehemently cursing, he affirms he does not know me.
O Peter, how is it that you do not know me? Don't you remember how many
goods I have showered on you? If the others make me die of pain, you make
me die of sorrow! Oh, what a mistake it was to follow me from a distance,
and then expose yourself to the occasions of sin!”
My denied Good, how quickly the offenses of your dearest ones can be recognized!
O Jesus, I want to make my heartbeat flow within Yours to soothe the harrowing
spasm that You suffer. And my heartbeat in Yours swears loyalty and love to
You, and repeats and swears thousands and thousands of times that I know You.
But your love still has not calmed down, and you are seeking out Peter with
your eyes. Before your loving gazes, your eyes swollen with tears for his
denial, Peter is moved, and he weeps as he goes away. Having saved him, you
calm down again, and you make reparation for the sins of the popes and of
the leaders of the Church, especially for those who expose themselves to
the occasions of sin.
Meanwhile, your enemies continue to accuse you. Seeing that you do not answer
their accusations, Caiaphas says to you:
“I solemnly order you under oath to the living God, tell me: Are you really
the true Son of God?”
My Love, you always have the word of truth on your lips. And so, assuming
an attitude of supreme majesty, with a resonant but gentle voice that strikes
everyone and makes the demons themselves plunge into the abyss, you respond:
“You have said it. Yes, I am the true Son of God. And one day I will descend
on the clouds of heaven to judge all nations.”
At your creative words, everyone becomes silent. They are shuddering and
frightened. But Caiphas, after a fearful moment, recovers. More furious than
a wild beast, he says to everyone:
“What need have we of more witnesses? He has uttered a grave blasphemy.
Why should we wait to condemn Him? He is already deserving of death!”
To give greater force to his sacrilegious words, he rends his garments with
such rage and fury that all scream together, as one man, “He is guilty and
must die! He is guilty and must die!” They attack You, my good Jesus. One
hits You and slaps You, while another spits in your face. Still others trample
You under their feet. They torment You in so many ways that the earth trembles
and the heavens are shaken.
My Love and my Life, how they torment You! My heart breaks for sorrow...
Oh, permit me to come out of your sorrowful heart to face all these outrages
in your place. Yes, if it were possible, I would snatch you from the hands
of your enemies, but you do not want me to because the salvation of everyone
demands this. So I am compelled to resign myself.
My sweet love, permit me to clean you, arrange your hair, remove the spit
and wipe away the blood, to then enclose myself in your heart, because I see
that Caiaphas is tired and wants to retire, and that he is turning you over
to the soldiers.
So, I bless you. And I ask your blessing on me, and that you give me the
kiss of love. I enclose myself in the furnace of your divine heart to go to
sleep. I place my mouth on your heart so that as I breathe I may kiss you.
And by the difference of your heartbeats—more or less suffering—I will notice
whether you suffer or rest. And now, forming wings with my arms to defend
you, I embrace you, press myself close to your heart, and fall asleep.
Reflections and Practices.
Jesus is brought before Caiphas and unjustly accused. He is subjected to
unprecedented torture and when He is interrogated, He speaks only the truth.
When the Lord permits others to calumniate and unjustly accuse me, do I seek
God alone who knows my innocence, or do I beg for the esteem and honor of
other creatures? Do my lips always speak the truth? Am I the enemy of all
deception and lies? Do I patiently endure the mockery and humiliations that
others cause me? Am I ready to offer my life for the sake of their salvation?
My sweet Jesus, how different I am from You! I humbly ask You, grant that
my lips always speak the truth, to wound the hearts of those who hear me and
to guide all souls to You!.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
12th HOUR
From 4 A.M. to 5 A.M.
Jesus in the midst of the soldiers.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
My most sweet Life, Jesus, while sleeping, clinging to your Heart, I often
felt the pricks of the thorns which pierce your Most Holy Heart. Wanting to
wake up together with You, that You may have at least one who notices all
of your pains and feels compassion for You, I cling more tightly to your Heart;
and feeling your prickings more vividly, I wake up. What do I see? What do
I hear? I would like to hide you in my heart to offer myself in your place
and to receive upon myself such terrible pains, such incredible insults and
humiliations. Only your love could endure such outrages. My most patient Jesus,
what can you expect from such inhuman people!
Now I see that they are making fun of you. They cover your face with thick
spit, and the light of your beautiful eyes is obscured by it. Then, shedding
streams of tears for our salvation, you clear your eyes of that spit. But
in the wickedness of their heart they cannot bear to see the light of your
eyes, and so they cover them with spit again.
Others, becoming more daring in evil, open your most sweet mouth and fill
it with disgusting spit, to the point that they themselves feel nausea. And
since some of that spit flows away, revealing, in part, the majesty of your
Face and your superhuman sweetness, they shudder and feel ashamed of themselves.
In order to feel more free, they blindfold You with a miserable rag, to be
able to hurl themselves, unrestrained, at your adorable Person. And so they
beat You up without pity; they drag You; they trample You under their feet;
they repeat blows and slaps to your Face and over your head, scratching You,
tearing your hair, and pushing You from one point to another.
Jesus, my love, my heart cannot bear to see you in such pains. You want
me to witness everything, while I would rather cover my eyes to avoid seeing
such sorrowful scenes, capable of tearing the heart from every breast. But
your love compels me to observe what is happening to you. I see that You utter
not a breath, that You say not a word to defend Yourself; that You are in
the hands of these soldiers like a rag, and they can do with You whatever
they want. And in seeing them jumping on You, I fear You may die under their
feet.
My Good and my All, the sorrow I feel for your pains is so great, that I
would like to shout so loudly as to be heard up there in Heaven, and call
the Father, the Holy Spirit and all the Angels; and here on earth, from one
point to another, call sweet Mama first, and all the souls who love You, so
that, forming a circle around You, we may prevent these insolent soldiers
from drawing near You to insult You and torment You more. Together with you,
we will make reparation for all the various kinds of sins committed during
the night, especially for those committed during the night hours on your sacramental
person, by those belonging to sects, as well as for all the sins of those
souls that do not remain faithful in the night of the test.
My insulted Jesus, I see that the soldiers, drunk and tired, want to rest.
My poor heart, oppressed and lacerated by all these pains of yours, does not
want to remain alone with you, and feels the need for another companion.
Yes, my gentle mother, you be my inseparable companion. I clasp your maternal
hand tightly and kiss it, while I ask you to strengthen me with your blessing.
While together we embrace Jesus, let us rest our head on his sorrowful heart
to console it. O Jesus, together with Mother Mary I kiss you and bless you.
And now she and I will sleep the sleep of love on your adorable heart.
Reflections and Practices.
In this hour, Jesus stands in the midst of soldiers with composure and undaunted
determination. Being the God that He is, He suffers all the abuses given by
the soldiers and looks at them with so much Love that He seems to invite them
to inflict even more pain.
Am I constant in the face of persistent suffering, or do I complain, become
troubled, and lose peace—that peace of heart that is necessary for Jesus to
dwell happily in me?
Steadfastness is the virtue that enables one to know whether God truly reigns
in him. If our virtue is genuine, we will be steadfast in trials, with a constancy
that is not subject to change. Only this kind of steadfastness can communicate
peace to us. The more we remain steadfast in doing good, in suffering, and
in working, the more we increase the space around us, wherein Jesus communicates
his graces. So, if we fail to be constant, our space will be restricted and
Jesus will have little or no room in which to move. But if we remain steadfast
and constant, Jesus will find abundant space and will find his support and
assistance in us—He will find a place to increase his grace.
If we want beloved Jesus to rest in us, let us surround Him with the same
steadfastness with which He won the salvation of our souls. Defended in this
manner, He will remain in our hearts to take his sweet rest.
Jesus lovingly gazed at those who mistreated Him. Do I gaze with the same
love at those who offend me? Is the love that I show them so intense that,
like a powerful voice penetrating their hearts, it converts them to Jesus?
My Jesus, boundless Love, grant me this love and let every pain I suffer
lead souls to You.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
13th HOUR
From 5 A.M. to 6 A.M.
Jesus in prison.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
.
My prisoner Jesus, I have woken up, but you are not here. My heart pounds,
longing for your love. Tell me, where are you? My angel, take me to Caiaphas'
house. I look all around, I search everywhere but don't find you. My love,
hurry: With your hands move the chains with which you have my heart bound
to yours, and draw me to yourself so that I may fly to you and throw myself
into your arms. Now, my love, wounded by my voice and desirous of my company,
you draw me to yourself; and I see that they have put you in prison. While
my heart leaps for joy to find you, I feel it wounded by the sorrow of seeing
how they have reduced you.
I see you with your hands tied behind you to a column, your feet tied together,
your most sacred face bruised, swollen and bleeding for the horrible slaps
received. Your most holy eyes are bruised, your gaze is weary and suffering
for the sleeplessness, your hair is all disheveled, your most holy person
is all beaten. And what is more, you can neither help nor clean yourself because
you are tied. O my Jesus, while sobbing and embracing your feet, I say to
you: Oh! What have they done to you, Jesus?
Looking at me, Jesus answers:
“Come, my child, and pay attention to what you see me doing, to do it together
with me, so that I can continue my life in you.”
To my amazement, I see that instead of occupying yourself with your pains,
with indescribable love you concern yourself with glorifying the Father, to
compensate him for our obligations toward him. And you call all souls around
you, to take all their evils upon yourself and to give them every good of
yours. And since we are at the dawn of the new day, I hear your gentle voice
that says:
“Holy Father, I thank you for all I have suffered and for that which remains
for me to suffer. As this dawn calls the day, and the day makes the sun rise,
so too, let the dawn of grace appear in all hearts. And forming the day, may
I, divine sun, rise in all hearts and reign over all. O Father, do you see
these souls? I want to answer to you for everyone: for their thoughts, words,
deeds and steps, at the cost of my blood and death.”
My Jesus, boundless love, I join with you. I too thank you for all that
you have made me suffer and for what remains for me to suffer. I pray you
to make the dawn of grace rise in all hearts, so that you, divine sun, may
rise again in all hearts and reign over everyone.
But I also see, my sweet Jesus, that You repair for all the very first thoughts,
affections and words, which, at the rising of the day, are not offered to
You to honor You; and that You call to Yourself, as though in custody, the
thoughts, the affections and the words of the creatures, in order to repair
for them and give to the Father the glory they owe Him.
My Jesus, Divine Master, since we have one hour free in this prison and
we are alone, not only do I want to do what You are doing, but I want to
clean You, fix your hair, and fuse myself completely in You. So, I begin
with your most holy head; and arranging your hair, I want to make reparation
to you for so many minds twisted and full of earth that do not have even
one thought for you. Then, fusing myself in your mind, I want to gather up
all the thoughts of creatures and fuse them in your thoughts, in order to
find sufficient reparation for all evil thoughts, and for so many suffocated
lights and inspirations. I would make all thoughts one alone with yours,
to give you true reparation and perfect glory.
My suffering Jesus, I kiss your sad and tearful eyes. With your hands tied
to the column you cannot dry them or clean away the spit with which they have
dirtied you. And since the position in which they have tied you is excruciating,
you cannot close your weary eyes to rest. My love, how willingly I would make
a bed for you with my arms, to give you rest. I want to dry your tears, ask
your forgiveness and make reparation for all the times we have not had the
intention of pleasing you and of looking to you to see where you wanted us
to go.
And I want to fuse my eyes and the eyes of all creatures in yours, to be
able to make reparation with your own eyes for all the wrong we have done
with our sight. My pitiful Jesus, I kiss your most holy ears, wearied by the
insults of the whole night, and much more by the echo of all the offenses
of creatures, which resounds in your ears. I ask your forgiveness and I make
reparation for all the times you have called us and we were deaf or we pretended
not to hear you. And you, my weary Jesus, repeated the calls, but in vain.
I want to fuse my ears and those of all creatures in yours to make continual,
complete reparation.
My loving Jesus, I kiss your most holy face which is all bruised from the
blows. I ask you pardon, and I make reparation for all the times you have
called us to be victims of reparation, and we, united with your enemies, gave
you slaps and spit. My Jesus, I want to fuse my face in yours to return your
natural beauty to you and to make complete reparation for all the ridicule
which your most holy majesty receives.
My embittered, good Jesus, I kiss your most sweet mouth bruised by the blows
and parched by love. I want to fuse my tongue and that of all creatures in
yours to make reparation with your own tongue for all the sins and evil discourses
committed. My thirsty Jesus, I want to make all voices one with yours, so
that when they are about to offend you, your voice, flowing in the voices
of creatures will suffocate the voices of sin and change them into voices
of praise and love.
Enchained Jesus, I kiss your neck weighed down by heavy chains and ropes
which, running from your breast behind your back and passing around your arms,
keep you tightly bound to the column. Your hands are tied so tightly that
they are already swollen and darkened, and blood is dripping from various
parts of them. My bound Jesus, permit me to free you. And if you love to be
bound, I will bind you with the chains of love which, being sweet, will soothe
you instead of making you suffer. And while I loose you I want to fuse myself
in your neck, to be able to make reparation together with you for all attachments,
and to give the chains of your love to everyone.
I fuse myself in your breast to make reparation for all the coldness of
creatures and to fill the breast of all creatures with your fire, because
I see you have so much that you cannot contain it. I fuse myself in your
back to make reparation for all illicit pleasures and love of comfort, to
give the spirit of sacrifice and the love of suffering to everyone. I fuse
myself in your hands to make reparation for all evil works and for the good
that is done in a bad manner or with presumption, to give the perfume of
your works to everyone. Fusing myself in your feet, I enclose the steps of
all creatures there, to make reparation for them. And I give your steps to
everyone to make them walk with holy steps.
Now, my dear life, as I fuse myself in your heart, permit me to enclose
all affections, heartbeats and desires there, to make reparation for them
together with you, and to give everyone your affections, heartbeats and desires
so that no one may offend you again.
But now I hear the squeaking of the key echoing in my ears. It's your enemies
who have come to take you from the prison. Jesus, I am trembling, I feel myself
freezing. You will be in the hands of your enemies again. What will happen
to you?
I seem to hear the squeaking of the tabernacle keys as well. How many profaning
hands come to open them and perhaps to make you descend into sacrilegious
hearts! How many unworthy hands you are forced to be in! My prisoner Jesus,
I want to be in all your prisons of love to be the spectator when your ministers
take you out, and to keep you company and make reparation for the offenses
you may receive.
I see that your enemies are coming, and you are greeting the rising sun—the
last of your days. Loosing you, and seeing how majestic you appear, and that
you look at them with so much love, in exchange they slap your face so hard
that it turns red with your most precious blood.
My love, in my sorrow I ask you to bless me before you leave the prison,
to give me the strength to follow you in the rest of your passion.
Reflections and Practices.
Jesus is placed in prison, bound to a column, immobilized, and smeared with
spittle and mud. He searches for my soul to cleanse Him and keep Him company.
Am I happy to be alone with Jesus, or do I seek the company of others? Is
Jesus my only breath and my only heartbeat?
If I hold everything that is inside of me—sorrows, irritations—as if they
were my own, I will never be alone with Jesus. must hold what surrounds me
and even the creatures, as if they belonged to Jesus, that they may surround
Him like a retinue; on the other hand, if I hold them as if they concerned
me, I will never be alone with Jesus.
That is why I must lay everything, both interior and exterior, that concerns
me around Jesus to keep Him company, and I shall be satisfied only with Jesus.
May Jesus be my only breath, my only heartbeat. Am I careful to change all
the offenses that creatures do to me into love? With Jesus in prison, do I
have the strength, the promptness to jail myself in Jesus, for love of Him?
To make us like Him, loving Jesus binds our souls, but how? With hardship,
oppression, sorrow, and every other kind of mortification. Are we happy to
be bound by Jesus in the prison where his Love places us—that is, in darkness,
oppression, and even worse?
Jesus is in prison. Do I think that my prison ought to be similar to that
of Jesus? Do I feel the strength and readiness to imprison myself in Jesus
for his love? My afflicted Jesus yearns for my soul to untie Him and sustain
Him in the sorrowful situation that confronts Him. Do I yearn only for the
company of Jesus to free me from the chains of every passion and bind me to
his Heart with even stronger chains? Do I place my pains around suffering
Jesus to remove the spittle and mud that sinners hurl at Him?
Jesus prays in prison. Is my prayer with Jesus constant?
My enchained Jesus, You became a prisoner out of Love for me. I beg You,
then, to imprison in You all that I am— my mind, my tongue, my heart—so that
I will no longer be free and You will have absolute dominion over me.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
14th HOUR
From 6 A.M. to 7 A.M.
Jesus is brought before Caiaphas again, and then sent to Pilate.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
My suffering Jesus, you are now out of prison, but are so exhausted that
you waver at every step. I want to be by your side to hold you up when I see
you are about to fall.
I see that the soldiers bring you before Caiaphas. O my Jesus, you reappear
in their midst like a sun, and though disfigured, you radiate light everywhere.
Now I observe that Caiaphas is overjoyed to see you reduced to such a pitiful
state. The rays of your light blind him even more, and in his fury he questions
you again:
“So, you are really the true Son of God?”
And you, my love, your voice full of grace, with supreme majesty and your
usual sweet and moving words that captivate hearts, answer:
“Yes, I am the true Son of God.”
Then, although they feel all the force of your words in themselves, suffocating
everything and not wanting to know more, they cry out with one voice:
“He deserves to die! He deserves to die!”
Caiaphas confirms the death sentence and sends you to Pilate. My condemned
Jesus, you accept this sentence with such love and resignation that you almost
snatch it from the wicked pontiff. And you make reparation for all the sins
committed deliberately and with sheer malice, and for those who instead of
being sorry for the wrong they have done, rejoice and are glad for the sin
itself—which blinds them and brings them to suffocate all light and grace.
My life, your reparations and prayers echo in my heart, and I make reparation
and pray together with you.
My tender love, having lost what little esteem they had of you, now that
you have been sentenced to death, I see that the soldiers grab you. They add
more ropes and chains, and tie you so tightly that your divine person can
hardly move. Then, pushing and dragging you, they remove you from Caiaphas'
palace.
Throngs of people are waiting for you, but not one of them to defend you.
My divine sun, you go out into their midst, wanting to envelop them all in
your light.
As you take your first steps, with the intention of enclosing all the steps
of creatures in yours, you pray and make reparation for those who take their
first steps to do wrong: In one instance to take revenge; in another to kill,
to betray, to rob, or to do even worse. Oh, how all these sins wound your
heart! To prevent so much evil you pray, make reparation, and offer up your
whole self.
As I follow you, my sun, Jesus, I see that as you begin to descend from
Caiaphas' palace you meet with Mary, our beautiful and gentle mother. Your
eyes meet, wounding both of you. And although you are comforted by seeing
each other, this encounter causes still new pains. For you it is a new pain
to see our beautiful mother pierced, pale, and clothed in mourning. For your
dear mother it is also a new suffering to see you, the divine sun, eclipsed
and covered with so many outrages, weeping and shrouded in blood. But you
are not able to enjoy your exchange of glances for long. With the pain of
not being able to exchange even one word, your hearts say everything. You
fuse yourselves in each other, but stop looking at each other because the
soldiers press you on. And so, trampled and dragged you come before Pilate.
My Jesus, I join our pierced mother in following you, and I want to fuse
myself together with her in you. And giving me a look of love, you bless me.
Reflections and Practices.
Jesus is brought at dawn before Caiphas and He courageously declares that
He is the Son of God. When I go somewhere, do I allow Jesus to direct me?
Is my conduct an example for others, and do my steps, like magnets, attract
other souls to Jesus? Jesus’ entire life is a continuous calling to souls.
If we conform ourselves to his Will—that is, if our feet call souls as we
walk, if our heartbeats, echoing the divine heartbeats, harmonize together
and call souls, and so on with all the rest—by doing this, we will form the
same humanity of Jesus in ourselves. So, each time we call souls, it is another
imprint that we receive from our Jesus. Is our life always the same, or do
we change for the worse according to the encounters we have?
My Jesus, holiness beyond compare, guide me and make even my outward demeanor
manifest all your divine life..
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
15th HOUR
From 7 A.M. to 8 A.M.
Jesus is brought before Pilate, who then sends him to Herod.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
My bound Jesus, together with the priests, your enemies present you to Pilate.
In view of celebrating the Passover, they remain outside in the courtyard,
giving the false impression of holiness and scrupulosity. And you, my love,
seeing to the heart of their malice, make reparation for all the hypocrisies
of those consecrated to you. I too make reparation together with you.
Now, while you are doing this for their good, they instead, begin to accuse
you to Pilate, vomiting all the poison they have in themselves against you.
Showing himself unsatisfied with their accusations, in order to be able
to condemn you on good grounds, Pilate calls you aside to examine you alone,
and asks you:
“Are you the king of the Jews?”
And you, my true king, Jesus, respond:
“My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, thousands of legions of angels
would defend me.”
Pilate is surprised; and moved by the gentleness and dignity of your words,
he says to you:
“What? You are king?”
And you:
“I am as you say; and I have come into the world to teach the truth.”
Not wanting to know more, and convinced of your innocence, Pilate goes out
on the terrace and says:
“I find no fault at all in this man.”
The Jews are enraged, and they accuse you of many other things, but you
remain silent and do not defend yourself. You make reparation for the weaknesses
of judges when they find themselves before the domineering, and for their
injustices; and you pray for the innocent, the oppressed and the abandoned.
Then Pilate, seeing the fury of your enemies, and wanting to rid himself of
you, sends you to Herod.
Jesus before Herod
My divine king, I want to repeat your prayers and reparations, and go with
you to Herod. I see that your infuriated enemies would like to devour you.
While they are taking you, they heap insults, taunting and ridicule on you,
and so they bring you before Herod. Swelling up with pride, Herod asks you
many questions, but you don't answer. You don't even look at him. Then, irritated
because he doesn't see his curiosity satisfied, and humiliated by your long
silence, he declares publicly that you are crazy and out of your mind; and
he orders you to be treated accordingly. To mock you, he has you dressed in
a white garment; and he turns you over to the soldiers so that they will abuse
you as much as they can.
My innocent Jesus, no one finds any fault in you. Only the Jews do, because
their false religiosity does not merit that the light of the truth shine in
their minds.
My Jesus, infinite Wisdom, how dearly it costs you to have been declared
crazy. The soldiers, taking advantage of you, throw you to the ground, trample
you, cover you with spit, ridicule you and beat you with sticks. Being struck
like this, you feel yourself dying. The pains, the abuses and the humiliations
are so numerous that the angels weep, and they cover their faces with their
wings so they won't have to see them.
My peculiar Jesus, I too want to call you crazy—but crazy with love. Your
loving madness is such, that, instead of taking offense, you pray and make
reparation for the ambition of kings aspiring to kingdoms, who thus cause
the ruin of peoples; for so many massacres that they cause; for all the blood
they spill to satisfy their whims; for all the sins of curiosity; and for
the sins committed in courts and in armies.
My Jesus, how moving it is to see you praying and making reparation in the
midst of so many outrages. Your words echo in my heart, and I follow what
you do. Now, let me come by your side to share in your pains, console you
with my love, send your enemies away, take you in my arms to restore you,
and kiss your forehead.
I kiss your Forehead, my Jesus, and I beg You to purify my thoughts for
the sake of these sufferings. I kiss your beautiful eyes, shining with light.
And this light surrounds me everywhere. It penetrates my thoughts, eyes, words,
and heart in such a way as to make me swim in this light. I kiss your ears—sanctify
mine. I kiss your Face—enchant me and all souls as well with your beauty
to recover from all the insults and taunts that You receive in Herod’s palace.
I kiss your mouth. Give me the grace never to say any words that could offend
You. And I want to make up for all the ways that others offend You. I want
to stretch out my arms to You and hold You close to my heart, praying that
You impress your image in my mind, my heart, my steps, my works, and in all
that I do.
I kiss your right hand. Grant efficacious graces for the conversion of all
sinners and give me and everyone the good fruits of your most holy works.
I kiss your left hand. Impress me with your virtues, especially Charity. I
kiss your left foot—give me self-knowledge. I kiss your right foot—give me
the grace to obey with promptness. Finally, I kiss your most pure Heart—consume
me in the ardent flames of your Love.
My gentle love, I see that they won't leave you alone. Herod is sending
you back to Pilate. If your coming was painful, your return will be more
tragic because I see that the Jews are more enraged than before, and at any
cost are determined to put you to death.
So, before you leave Herod's palace, I want to kiss you as a sign of my
love for you in the midst of so many pains. Strengthen me with your kiss
and your blessing, and I will follow you to Pilate.
Reflections and Practices.
Even as Jesus is presented to Pilate in the midst of many insults and much
contempt, He remains ever gentle and has no contempt toward anyone, trying
to make the light of truth shine in everyone. Do I feel the same toward everyone?
If someone does not like me, do I try to overcome my natural opposition? When
dealing with others, do I always strive to make Jesus known and to make the
light of truth shine in them?
Jesus, my sweet life, place your words on my lips and Grant that I may always
speak with your tongue.
Presented before Herod, Jesus remains silent. He is dressed as a madman
and subjected to incredible torture. When I am slandered, mocked, insulted,
and jeered at, do I realize that Our Lord wants to give us his divine likeness?
In my sorrow, derision, and all that my poor heart experiences, do I consider
that it is Jesus who initiates our sorrow with his touch, transforming us
into Himself and producing his likeness in us? And when suffering revisits
us, do I consider that Jesus, looking at me, is still not content with me
and, holding me closely, seeks to make me completely like Himself? Following
Jesus’ example, can I say that I have mastered myself, that instead of responding
when angry, I prefer to remain silent? Do I ever allow myself to be overcome
by curiosity?
In every affliction I encounter, I should make the intention to offer it
as a life for Jesus, to pray for and obtain souls. When we place souls in
the Will of God, our sorrows make a circle, and within that circle we enclose
both God and the souls, and join the souls to Jesus.
My Love and my all, may You alone take total possession of this heart of
mine. Keep it in your hands so that in my encounters with others I reproduce
within me your surpassing patience.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
16th HOUR
From 8 a.m. to 9 a.m.
Jesus is brought before Pilate again.
Barabbas is preferred to Jesus.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
My tormented Jesus, among anxieties and pains my poor heart follows you.
Seeing you clothed as a madman, knowing who you are—infinite Wisdom, who gives
judgment to all—I go into a frenzy, and say: What! Jesus is mad? Jesus is
a criminal? And now the greatest criminal, Barabbas, will be preferred to
you. My Jesus, holiness that has no equal, now you are before Pilate again.
Seeing you so pitifully reduced and clothed as if insane, and that Herod
didn't condemn you either, he is more angered with the Jews, more firmly convinced
of your innocence, and decided not to condemn you. But at the same time,
wanting to give some satisfaction to the Jews, and, as it were, extinguish
the hate, the fury, the rage and the burning thirst which they have for your
blood, he presents you together with Barabbas. But the Jews cry: “We want
Barabbas freed, not Jesus!”
So, Pilate, not knowing what to do to calm them down, condemns you to the
scouring. My rejected Jesus, my heart breaks to see that while the Jews are
all busy about putting you to death, absorbed in yourself, you are intent
on giving life to everyone. Straining my ears, I can hear you say:
“Holy Father, look at your Son clothed as a madman. This makes reparation
to you for the madness of so many creatures fallen into sin. Let this white
garment be before you as forgiveness for so many souls that clothe themselves
in the gloomy garment of sin. O Father, see the hatred, the fury, the rage
they have against me, and their thirst for my blood, which makes them almost
lose the light of reason. I want to make reparation to you for all hatred,
vengeance, anger and homicides, and obtain the light of reason for everyone.”
“My Father, look at me again. Could there be a greater insult than to prefer
the worst criminal to me? I want to make reparation to you for all the preferences
committed. Yes, the whole world is full of preferences. Some people prefer
a miserable selfinterest to us; others honors, vanities, pleasures, attachments,
dignities, immoderate eating and drinking, and even sin itself. All creatures
unanimously reject us, even putting us after every foolish little thing.
I am ready to accept Barabbas' being preferred to me, to make reparation
for the preferences of creatures.”
My Jesus, seeing your great love in the midst of so many sufferings, and
the heroism of your virtues in the midst of so many pains and insults, I feel
myself die of pain and confusion. Your words and reparations, like so many
wounds, echo in my poor heart; and in my grief I repeat your prayers and
your reparations. I cannot separate from you even for an instant, otherwise
many things that you do would escape me.
Now, what do I see? The soldiers are leading you to a column to scourge
you. My love, I follow you. I ask you to look at me with your look of love,
and to give me the strength to assist at your painful butchery. My most pure
Jesus, now you are by the column. The furious soldiers loose you to tie you
to it. But this is not enough. They strip you of your garments so they can
cruelly butcher your most holy body. My love, my life, I feel myself faint
for the pain of seeing you nude. You are trembling from head to foot, and
your most holy face reddens with a virginal blush. You are so confused and
exhausted, that, unable to stand on your feet, you are about to fall at the
foot of this column, but the soldiers don't let you. They hold you up, not
to help you, but to be able to tie you.
Now they take the ropes and tie your arms so tightly that they swell up
right away, and blood spurts from the tips of your fingers. Then, from the
iron ring on the column they pass the ropes and chains around your most holy
person to your feet. And in order to freely unleash themselves on you they
tie you to the column so tightly that you can't make a move. My stripped
Jesus, let me pour out my feelings, otherwise I won't be able to continue
to see you suffer so. How is it that you who dress all created things—the
sun with light, the sky with stars, the plants with leaves, the birds with
feathers—are stripped? What boldness! With the light that comes forth from
his eyes, my loving Jesus says to me:
“Be silent, my child. It was necessary for me to be stripped, to make reparation
for so many who strip themselves of every modesty, purity and innocence; who
strip themselves of every good and virtue, of my grace, and dress themselves
with every bestiality, living after the manner of beasts. With my virginal
blush, I want to make reparation for all the indecencies, loose lifestyles
and bestial pleasures. So, be attentive to what I am doing, pray and make
reparation together with me, and calm down.”
Scourged Jesus, your love goes from excess to excess. I see that the torturers
take up the whips and beat you so mercilessly that all your most holy body
turns black and blue. They have beaten you so furiously that they are already
tired, but two others take their place. These take up thorny rods and beat
you so much that the blood immediately begins to flow in streams from your
most sacred body. Then they pound it all over, forming furrows, and turning
it into one big wound.
But this is still not enough. Two others take their place and with chains
of hooked iron continue the painful butchery. At the first blows, that beaten
and wounded flesh is shredded even more and falls to the ground, leaving the
bones bare. The blood is streaming so profusely that it forms a pool around
the column. My Jesus, my naked love, while you are under this storm of blows,
I embrace your feet so that I may share in your pains and be entirely covered
with your most precious blood. O Jesus, scourge my mind and drive out every
thought that could distance me from You. Scourge my eyes, and if they want
to look at earthly things, strike them with your scourges and make them look
only at You. O Jesus, the sound of your whips reaches my ears! When You see
me listening to things that distract me from You, my Jesus, strike me with
your whips and entice me to listen only to your voice.
O Jesus, scourge my face—and if some act of complacency or selfimportance
should make an impression upon me, let the blows of your whips detach me from
the earth and spur me to look only at Heaven. O Jesus, scourge my tongue and
my lips—and if they should dare to pronounce a word that is not for your love
and glory, may your scourges strike me and cast fire and flames upon me to
ignite with love not only me, but all those who listen to me as well. O Jesus,
scourge my hands. May every movement I make and every work that I do be signed
with the seal of your love. O Jesus, may your whips strike my feet. I beg
You to bind them tightly to your feet to keep me from taking a single step
that is not for You—and so that I might lead others to love You. O Jesus,
scourge my heart with your dispositions, affections, and desires so that
every blow I receive leaves a wound in my heart.
And may these blows give birth to a living love in me. My Jesus, as I stretch
my ears, I hear your moans, unheard by the others, because the storm of blows
deafens the air around You. In those moans you say:
“All you who love me, come to learn the heroism of true love. Come to extinguish
in my blood the thirst of your passions, the thirst of so many ambitions,
of so many vanities and pleasures, of so many sensualities! In this blood
of mine you will find the remedy for all your evils.”
Your moans continue to say:
“Look at me, O Father, all wounded under this storm of the lashes. But this
is not everything. I want to form so many wounds in my body to make enough
dwellings for all souls in the heaven of my humanity so as to form their salvation
in myself, and then make them pass into the heaven of my divinity. My Father,
let every lash of these scourgings make reparation before you, one by one,
for every kind of sin. And as they strike me, let them excuse those who commit
them. Let these lashes strike the hearts of creatures, speaking to them of
my love, and so compel them to surrender to me.”
As you say this, your love is so intense that you almost encourage the torturers
to beat you more. My torn and lacerated Jesus, your love overwhelms me and
makes me feel like I am going crazy. Although your love is not tired, the
executioners don't have the strength to continue the painful butchery. Now
they cut the ropes; and almost dead, you fall in your own blood. Seeing the
shreds of your flesh, you feel yourself die for the pain of seeing the condemned
souls torn from you in those bits of flesh. The pain is so intense that you
are gasping in your own blood, and seeing your flesh being lacerated you feels
like dying of sorrow and in those pieces of flesh you see the souls who tear
themselves away from your humanity. This suffering is so deep that you seem
to drown in your own blood.
My Jesus, let me take you in my arms to restore you some with my love. I
kiss you, and with my kiss I enclose all souls in you so that no others will
be lost. Meanwhile, you bless me.
Reflections and Practices.
At this time, Jesus is stripped naked and subjected to cruel beating. But
am I stripped of everything? Jesus is bound to a column. Do I allow myself
to be bound by Love? Jesus is bound to a column, while I, with my sins and
attachments—sometimes even in matters that are indifferent or good in themselves—add
my own ropes as though I were unsatisfied with the ropes the Jews used to
bind Him. Meanwhile, with his merciful gaze, Jesus calls me to remove his
bonds.
Do I not see in that gaze another reproach intended for me for having helped
to bind Him? If I am to relieve afflicted Jesus, I must remove my own chains
before removing the chains of others. These little chains are frequently seen
in my small attachments to my own will, to my self¬love that is often
offended, to my small vanities that weave a subtle web, sorrowfully binding
my beloved Jesus. Overwhelmed by Love for my soul, Jesus Himself sometimes
wishes to remove my chains so that I will not make Him endure this sorrowful
enchainment once more.
Ah, I complain because I do not want to be bound alone with Jesus, I want
to keep something that is not His, and so I force Him mournfully to withdraw
from me. As my tormented Jesus suffers, He offers reparation for all sins
against modesty.
Am I pure in my thoughts, glances, words, and affections, so that I do not
inflict more blows on that innocent Body? Am I always bound to Jesus, in such
a way that I find myself ready to defend Him whenever others strike Him with
their offenses?
My enchained Jesus, may your chains be mine—so that I always feel You in
me and You always feel me in You.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
17th HOUR
From 9 a.m. to 10 a.m.
Jesus is crowned with thorns.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
My Jesus, infinite love, the more I look at you the more I realize how much
you suffer. You are lacerated all over; there is no sound part left in you.
You torturers are enraged to see that despite all your pains you look at them
with so much love. Your loving gaze forms a sweet enchantment, almost like
so many voices that are praying and begging for more pains and new pains.
So, these torturers—not only because they are inhuman, but forced as well
by your love—get you to your feet. But, being unable to stand, you fall again
in your own blood. Angered by this, with kicks and shoves, they make you reach
the place where they will crown you with thorns. My love, if you don't sustain
me with your look of love, I won't be able to continue to see you suffer.
I can already feel my bones shuddering. My heart is pounding. I feel I am
dying. Jesus, Jesus, help me! My gentle Jesus says to me:
“My child, take courage. Do not lose anything of all that I have suffered.
Be attentive to my teachings. I must completely make man over. Sin has taken
away his crown, and has crowned him with such disgrace and confusion that
he cannot come before my majesty. Sin has dishonored him, making him lose
every right to honor and glory. So, in order to put the crown back on the
forehead of man and give back to him all rights to every honor and glory,
I want to be crowned with thorns. Before my Father, my thorns will be reparations
and voices of forgiveness for so many sins of thought, especially those of
pride, and voices of light to every created mind and of entreaty that they
not offend me. So, join with me, and pray and make reparation together with
me.”
Crowned Jesus, your pitiless enemies make you sit down, and they put a purple
rag on you. They take the crown of thorns and with infernal fury put on your
adorable head. Then, beating it with a stick they make it penetrate into your
forehead; and part of the thorns go into your eyes, your ears, your head
and even the back of your neck. My love, what agony! What unspeakable pains!
How many cruel deaths you suffer! So much blood is already running down your
face that nothing but blood can be seen. But under those thorns and blood
I can see your most holy face radiant with gentleness, peace and love.
Wanting to complete the tragedy, your torturers blindfold you, put a reed
in your hand as a scepter and begin their jests. They greet you, saying, “King
of the Jews!” They hit the crown, they slap you and say, “Guess who struck
you!” Your response is to remain silent, and to make reparation for the ambition
of those who aspire to kingdoms, dignities and honors; for those who, finding
themselves in such positions, by their wrongdoing cause the ruin of
the peoples and of the souls entrusted to them; and for those whose bad example
lead others into evil and cause the loss of souls.
With this reed you are holding in your hand, you make reparation for so
many good works which are empty of interior spirit and are even done with
evil intentions. In the insults you receive, you make reparation for those
who ridicule the most sacred things, discrediting them and profaning them.
With the blindfold you have on, you make reparation for those who blindfold
the eyes of their intelligence so they won't see the light of the truth. At
the same time, you obtain for us the grace to remove the blindfolds of passions,
riches and pleasures. My king, Jesus, your enemies continue to insult you.
There is so much blood flowing from your most holy head that, entering even
into your mouth, it keeps you from letting me hear your gentle voice clearly,
and so I can't do what you are doing. Therefore, I come into your arms. I
want to support your pierced and suffering head; and I want to put my head
under those thorns to feel their punctures. As I am saying this, my Jesus
calls me with his look of love—and I run. I cling to his heart, and do my
best to support his head.
Oh! How wonderful it is to be with Jesus, even in the midst of a thousand
torments! He says to me:
“My child, these thorns say that I want to be made king of every heart.
All dominion is mine by right. Take these thorns, pierce your heart and make
everything go out of it that does not belong to me. Leave a thorn in your
heart as the seal to show I am your king and to keep anything else from entering
into you. Then, go around to all hearts, piercing them to drive out all the
smoke of pride and rottenness which they contain, and make me king of everyone.”
My love, it makes my heart ache to leave you. So, I pray you to deafen my
ears with your thorns so that I may only hear your voice. Cover my eyes with
your thorns so that I can look at you alone. Fill my mouth with your thorns
so that my tongue may be mute to all that could offend you, and free to praise
and bless you in everything. O my king, Jesus, surround me with thorns; and
may these thorns keep me, defend me and make me all intent on you.
Now I want to dry the blood on you and kiss you, because I see that your
enemies are taking you to Pilate who will condemn you to death. My love, help
me to continue along your sorrowful way, and bless me. My crowned Jesus, my
poor heart, wounded by your love and pierced by your pains, cannot live without
you. So I search for you, and I find you again before Pilate. What a moving
spectacle I see! The heavens are horrified and hell trembles with fear and
rage! Life of my heart, I cannot bear to see you like this without feeling
myself die, but the driving force of your love compels me to look at you,
to make me thoroughly understand your pains. Among tears and sighs I contemplate
you. My Jesus, you are nude. Instead of clothes, I see you dressed in blood.
Your flesh is torn, your bones are laid bare, your most holy face is unrecognizable.
The thorns are fixed in your most holy head, and even reach into your eyes
and your face. I see nothing but blood which runs to the ground, forming
a pool around your feet.
My Jesus, I can't recognize you anymore! Oh, how you are reduced! Your state
has reached the most profound excesses of humiliations and torments! No, I
can't bear such a painful sight any longer! I feel myself dying! I would like
to snatch you away from Pilate's presence and enclose you in my heart to
give you rest. I would like to heal your wounds with my love. With your blood
I would like to flood the world to enclose all souls in it and bring them
to you as the conquest of your pains.
O patient Jesus, it seems as though you are trying to look at me through
the thorns; and you say to me:
“My child, come into these tied arms of mine. Rest your head on my breast
and you will see more intense and bitter pains, because those you see on the
outside of my humanity are but the overflowing of my interior pains. Pay
attention to the heartbeats of my heart and you will hear that I am making
reparation for the injustices of those who command; for the oppression of
the poor; for the putting of the innocent after the guilty; for the pride
of those who, to keep high offices, positions and riches, do not hesitate
to break any law and to wrong their neighbor, closing their eyes to the light
of the truth.”
“With these thorns I want to shatter the haughty spirit of their domination.
With the openings they form in my head, I want to make my way into their minds
to reorder all things in them according to the light of the truth. By being
humiliated like this, before this unjust judge, I want to make everyone understand
that virtue alone is what makes man king of himself. And I teach those who
are in command that virtue, together with right knowledge, is alone worthy
and capable of governing and ruling others, while all other dignities, without
virtue, are dangerous and should be rejected. My child, repeat my reparations,
and continue to pay attention to my pains.”
My love, I see that Pilate shudders to see you so pitifully reduced; and
deeply impressed, he exclaims:
“Is such cruelty possible in human hearts? No, this was not my intention
when I condemned him to the scourging.”
Overwhelmed, Pilate turns his eyes away because he can't bear to see such
a painful sight. Then, wanting to free you from the hands of your enemies,
in order to find more solid grounds he questions you again:
“Tell me: What have you done? Your people have turned you over to me. Tell
me: Are you king? What is your kingdom?”
O my Jesus, you give no answer to Pilate's storm of questions; and, enclosed
in yourself, you turn your thoughts to saving my poor soul at the cost of
so many pains. Seeing that you don't answer him, Pilate adds:
“Don't you realize that it is in my power to free you or to condemn you?”
O my love, wanting to make the light of the truth shine in Pilate's mind,
you answer:
“You would have no power over me if it had not been given to you from above.
But those who have turned me over to you have committed a sin graver than
yours .”
Then, moved by the gentleness of your voice, irresolute as he is, with his
heart in a turmoil, Pilate decides to show you from the terrace, thinking
that the hearts of the Jews are more compassionate, hoping that they will
be moved to compassion to see you so lacerated. My suffering Jesus, my heart
aches as I watch you following Pilate. You can hardly walk, curved under that
horrible crown of thorns. Blood marks your steps. As you go outside you hear
the riotous crown that is anxiously waiting for you to be condemned. Pilate
imposes silence to get everyone's attention so he can be heard. With repugnance
he takes the two edges of the purple rag that is covering your chest and
your back, lifts them up to show everyone how you are reduced, and in a loud
voice, says:
“Ecce homo!” Look at him: he no longer has the appearance of a man. Observe
his wounds: he is unrecognizable. If he has done wrong, he has already suffered
enough, even too much. I already regret having made him suffer like this.
So, let us free him!”
Jesus, my love, let me hold you up, because I see that you are wavering,
unable to stand under the weight of so many pains.
Now, in this solemn moment, your fate is decided. At Pilate's words a profound
silence is heard in heaven, on earth and in hell. And then, as if they had
a single voice, I hear everyone shout:
“Crucify him! Crucify him! At any cost we want him dead!”
Jesus, my life, I see you tremble. The cry of death descends into your heart.
And in these voices you perceive the voice of your dear Father, who says:
“My Son, I want you dead, and dead by crucifixion!”
Yes, you hear the voice of your dear mother as well, who, though transfixed
and desolate, echoes the voice of your dear Father:
“Son, I want you dead!”
The angels, the saints, hell, everyone in a unanimous voice shouts:
“Crucify him! Crucify him!”
So, there is no one who wants you alive. And oh, oh, to my greatest shame,
pain and horror, I too feel compelled by a supreme force to cry:
“Crucify him!”
My Jesus, forgive me if I too, a miserable sinful soul, want you dead. But
I pray you to make me die together with you. Meanwhile, O my anguished Jesus,
moved by my pain, you seem to say to me:
“My child, press yourself to my heart and share in my pains and reparations.
The moment is solemn. It must be decided: either my death, or the death of
all creatures. In this moment two currents are poured into my heart. In one
there are the souls, who, if they want me dead, it is because they want to
find life in me. And so, by accepting death for them, they are absolved from
eternal condemnation; and the gates of heaven are opened to receive them.
In the other current are those who want me dead out of hatred, and in confirmation
of their condemnation. My heart is lacerated and feels the death of each of
them, and the very pains of hell! My heart cannot bear these bitter pains.
I feel death at every heartbeat and at every breath. And I repeat: Why will
so much blood be shed in vain? Why will my pains be useless for many? Please
help me, my child, because I can't take it any longer. Share my pains, and
let your life be a continuous offering to save souls, to make such excruciating
pains less painful for me.”
My heart, Jesus, your pains are mine, and I repeat your reparations. I see
that Pilate is astonished, and he hurries to say:
“What? Must I crucify your king? I don't find any fault in him to condemn
him!”
But the Jews shout, deafening the air:
“We have no king but Caesar; and if you don't condemn him you are no friend
of Caesar. Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him! Crucify him!”
Not knowing what else to do, for fear of being removed from power, Pilate
has a wash basin brought to him, washes his hands, and says:
“I am innocent of the blood of this just man.”
And he condemns you to death.
But the Jews cry out:
“His blood be upon us and upon our children!”
Then, seeing you condemned to death, they make merry, clap their hands,
whistle and shout. Meanwhile, O Jesus, you make reparation for those who,
finding themselves in high positions, for vain fear and to avoid losing their
positions, break the most sacred laws, not caring about the ruin of entire
peoples, favoring the wrongdoer and condemning the innocent. You also make
reparation for those who, after sinning, instigate the divine wrath to punish
them.
But as you are making reparation for these things, your heart bleeds for
the pain of seeing the people chosen by you struck by the curse of heaven,
which they themselves with full will have wanted, sealing it with your blood
which they have called down upon themselves. Yes, your heart is fainting!
Let me sustain it in my hands by making your reparations and pains mine. Now
your love drives you still higher, and you are already impatiently seeking
the cross!
My Life, I will follow You, but for now rest in my arms; then, we will reach
Mount Calvary together. Therefore, remain in me, and bless me.
Reflections and Practices.
Crowning Him with thorns, they treat Jesus like a buffoon king, hurling
insults and inflicting untold pains upon Him. He makes reparation especially
for sins of pride. Do I allow feelings of pride to seep into me? Do I take
credit for the good that I do? Do I believe that I am better than others?
Is my mind always empty of other thoughts, so that grace may form in me?
Often we do not allow grace to form because our mind is chock¬full of
other thoughts, and when our mind is not wholly filled with God, we are ourselves
the cause of the devil’s harassment, as if indeed we encouraged his temptations.
But a mind filled with God he leaves befuddled, because holy thoughts form
a strong bulwark against the devil. When he makes his approach, it’s as if
many swords wounded him, and so the devil is afraid of drawing near, wanting
to avoid sharp pains.
I am wrong, therefore, to complain when my mind is troubled and tempted
by the enemy, for it is my weak guard (because I am not occupied with Jesus)
that drives the enemy to attack me, as if he spied on my mind to find small
empty spaces where he could attack me. And yet, instead of succoring Jesus
with holy thoughts and almost wanting to break his thorns, I, ungrateful that
I am, drive them even further into his head and make him feel their sharp
stings even more, so that grace is frustrated because it cannot accomplish
in my mind the work of holy inspiration. Sometimes, I do even worse: when
I feel the weight of temptations, instead of bringing them to Jesus, making
a bundle out of them and burning them at the feet of his love, I grow worried,
I become sad, and even calculate my temptations.
Therefore, not only is my poor mind filled with bad thoughts, but all my
wretched being is as it were, soaked in them, and I almost need a miracle
from Jesus to extricate myself. And Jesus, looking through those thorns, glances
at me and, calling to me, says: Ah, my daughter, you yourself refuse to stay
close to Me. Had you come to Me right away, I would have helped you free
yourself from the troubles that the enemy brought into your mind. Instead,
you left Me pining for your return; and since I wanted your help to free Me
from these sharp thorns, in vain did I wait, while you were busy in the work
that your enemy had prepared for you.
O you would have been tempted much less had you come right away into my
arms, so that fearing Me, not you, the enemy would have left immediately!
My Jesus, may your thorns be like a seal to my thoughts, which, sealing them
in your mind, prevent anything to enter unless it breaks up your thorns.
When Jesus makes Himself felt in my mind and my heart, do I answer his inspiration,
or do I let it fall into oblivion? Jesus is treated like a buffoon king: do
I respect all that is holy? Do I use all the reverence that is appropriate,
as if I were touching Jesus Christ Himself?
My crowned Jesus, may I feel your thorns so that from your wounds I may
understand how much You suffer, and may You become king of all of me. Displayed
on the terrace, Jesus is sentenced to death by the people that He most loved
and assisted.
To give me my life, my loving Jesus accepted death on my behalf; am I ready
to accept any pain to keep pain and insults away from my Jesus? For Jesus
not to suffer, we must accept our sentence; and because Jesus in his Humanity
suffered sufficiently, we ought to continue his life on earth, and compensate
with our suffering for the Humanity of Jesus Christ.
What compassion do I have for the affliction Jesus suffered on seeing so
many souls torn from his Heart? Do I make his pains my own to refresh Him
in all that He suffers? The Jews want Jesus crucified so that He will die
disgracefully and so as to erase his Name from the face of the earth. Do I
strive to make Jesus live on earth? With my acts, with my example, with my
steps, I ought to leave a divine impression on the world to make Jesus recognized
by everyone. With my works, I ought to produce a divine echo of his life
from one end of the earth to the other. Am I ready to give up my life so
that beloved Jesus may be refreshed from all the offenses He receives? Or
do I imitate the Jews—the people so favored by God who almost resemble my
poor soul so loved by God—who cried out, “Let Him be crucified!”?
My condemned Jesus, may your condemnation, which I accept for love of You,
be mine. I do through my soul what I cannot do through nature: I continually
pour myself into You, to carry You into the hearts of all creatures, to make
You known to everyone, and to give your Life to all.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
18th HOUR
From 10 a.m. to 11 a.m.
Jesus takes up the Cross and walks toward Calvary,
where He is stripped.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
My Jesus, unquenchable love, I see you take no rest. I hear your ravings
of love and your pains. Your heart is pounding; and in every beat I hear bursts,
tortures and violences of love. Unable to contain the fire that is devouring
you, you become anxious, you groan, you sigh. And in every groan I hear you
say, Cross! Each drop of your blood repeats, Cross! You are swimming in the
endless sea of all your pains which repeat among themselves, Cross! And you
exclaim:
“O beloved and longed¬for cross, you alone will save my children; and
in you I concentrate all my love.”
Meanwhile, your enemies make you enter the praetorium again. Wanting to
put your garments back on you, they remove the purple mantle. But, oh, what
pain! It would be sweeter for me to die than to see you suffer so! The garment
snags on the crown and they can't remove it. So, with cruelty never before
seen, they tear off together both the clothing and the crown. At the cruel
pull many thorns break and remain fixed in your most holy head. Blood runs
down in little streams, and the pain is so intense that you groan. But not
caring about your torments, your enemies put your garment back on you. Again
they put the crown on you; and pressing it deep into your head, the thorns
enter your eyes and your ears, such that there is no part of your most holy
head which does not feel their punctures. The pain is so intense that you
stagger under those cruel hands, and you tremble from head to foot. Among
atrocious spasm you are about to die. Your eyes being weak and filled with
blood, you can hardly look at me to ask my help in so much pain.
My Jesus, king of sorrows, let me hold you up and press you to my heart.
I would like to take the fire that is devouring you to reduce your enemies
to ashes and so free you. But you don't want this, because your longings for
the cross are increasing, and you want to immolate yourself on it at once,
even for your very enemies! As I press you to my heart, you press me to your,
and say to me:
“My child, let me vent my love. Together with me, make reparation for those
who dishonor me in the good they do. These Jews dress me in my garments in
order to further discredit me before the people and to convince them that
I am a criminal. The act of dressing me apparently was good, but in itself
it was evil. Yes, how many do good works, administer sacraments and receive
them with human and even evil purposes. But to do good in a malicious way
hardens the person. And I want to be crowned a second time, with pains more
biting than the first, to break this hardness, and so with my thorns, draw
them to me. Yes, my child, this second crowning is much more painful for me.
I feel my head, as it were, swimming in thorns; and at every movement I make
or shove they give me, I suffer so many cruel deaths. With this, I make reparation
for the malice of sins; I make reparation for those who, regardless of the
state of soul they are in, instead of occupying themselves with their own
sanctification, dissipate themselves and reject my grace, thus giving me
thorns all over again, which are even more biting. Meanwhile, I am forced
to groan, to weep with tears of blood and to long for their salvation. O
I do everything to love them and creatures do everything to offend Me! Yes,
I do everything to love them, and creatures do everything to offend me! At
least you be one who does not leave me alone, to suffer and make reparations
by myself.”
My tortured Jesus, I make reparation and suffer with you. I see that your
enemies push you down the steps, while the mob is waiting for you with fury
and eagerness. They have you find the cross already prepared, which you are
seeking with great longing. You look at it with love, and go straight to it,
to embrace it. But first you kiss it; and as a shiver of joy surges through
your most holy humanity, you look at it with the utmost contentment, measuring
its length and width. You now establish the portion in it for each creature.
You endow them with sufficient cross in order to bind them to the divinity
with a nuptial bond and make them heirs of the kingdom of heaven. Then, unable
to contain the love with which you love them, you kiss the cross again, and
say to it:
“Adorable cross, I embrace you at last! You were the longing of my heart,
the martyrdom of my love. You, O cross, lingered until now, while my steps
were always directed toward you. Holy cross, you were the goal of my desires,
the purpose of my existence here below. In you I concentrate my whole being;
in you I place all my children. You will be their life and their light, their
defense, their guard and their strength. You will come to their assistance
in everything and will bring them to me glorious, in heaven. O cross, seat
of wisdom, you alone will teach true holiness; you alone will form heroes,
athletes, martyrs and saints. Beautiful cross, you are my throne; and having
to depart from the earth myself, you will remain in my place. I give all souls
to you as your dowry. Keep them for me, save them for me; I entrust them
to you.”
With this, you anxiously receive the cross on your most holy shoulders.
Yes, my Jesus, for your love it is too light; but to the weight of the cross
there is added that of our sins, enormous and immense as the expanse of the
heavens. My overwhelmed Jesus, you feel crushed under the weight of so many
sins. Your soul is horrified by their sight, and you feel the pain of each
sin. In the face of so much ugliness, your holiness is shaken. Therefore,
as you take the cross on your shoulders, you stagger, you gasp; and a mortal
sweat trickles from your most sacred humanity. No, my love, I don't have
the heart to leave you alone. I want to share the weight of the cross with
you. To relieve you of the weight of sins, I embrace your feet. In the name
of all creatures I want to give you love for those who do not love you; praise
for those who despise you; blessings, thanksgiving and obedience for everyone.
I promise that in any offense you receive, I intend to offer you my whole
being to make reparation to you, to do the act contrary to the offense creatures
commit against you and to console you with my kisses and continual acts of
love.
But I see I am too miserable. I need you in order to truly make reparation
to you. So, I unite myself to your most holy humanity. Together with you,
I join my thoughts to yours to make reparation for my evil thoughts and those
of everyone. I join my eyes to yours to make reparation for evil glances.
I join my mouth to yours to make reparation for blasphemies and evil discourses.
I join my heart to yours to make reparation for evil tendencies, desires and
affections. In a word, I want to make reparation for all that your most holy
humanity does, by uniting myself to the immensity of your love for everyone
and to the immense good that you do to everyone.
But I am not yet content. I want to unite myself to your Divinity, and I
dissolve my nothingness in It, and in this way I give You everything. I give
You your Love to quench your bitternesses; I give You your Heart to relieve
You from our coldness, lack of correspondence, ingratitude, and the little
love of the creatures. I give You your Harmonies to cheer your hearing from
the deafening blasphemies it receives. I give You your Beauty to relieve You
from the ugliness of our souls, when we muddy ourselves in sin. I give You
your Purity to relieve You from the lack of righteous intention, and from
the mud and rot You see in many souls. I give You your Immensity to relieve
You from the voluntary constraints into which souls put themselves. I give
You your Ardor to burn all sins and all hearts, so that all may love You,
and no one may offend You, ever again. In sum, I give You all that You are,
to give You infinite satisfaction, eternal, immense and infinite love.
The Painful Way to Calvary
My most patient Jesus, I see you are taking your first steps under the enormous
weight of the cross. I join my steps to yours. When you are weak, bleeding,
staggering and about to fall, I will be by your side to raise you up. I will
put my shoulders under the cross to share its weight with you. Do not turn
me away, but accept me for your faithful companion. O Jesus, you look at me;
and I see that you are making reparation for those who do not carry their
own cross with resignation, who instead curse, become angry, commit homicides
and suicide. And with your entreaties you obtain love and resignation for
everyone, for their own cross. The pain is so intense that you feel as if
your were being crushed under the cross. You have taken but the first steps,
and already you fall under it. As you fall you hit against the rocks. The
thorns are driven deeper into your head, while your pains are sharpened and
all your wounds let more blood. And since you don't have the strength to get
up, your enemies become angry and try to get you to your feet with kicks and
shoves.
My fallen love, let me help you to your feet, kiss you, wipe away the blood,
and together with you make reparation for those who sin out of ignorance,
frailty and weakness. And I pray you to give help to these souls. My life,
Jesus, with unspeakable torments, your enemies manage to bring you to your
feet. As you stagger on, I hear your labored breath. Your heart pounds harder,
and new intense pains transfix it. Now you shake your head to free your eyes
of the blood that fills them, and anxiously look. Yes, my Jesus, now I understand
perfectly: It is your mother, who, like a mournful dove is searching for you.
She wants to say a last word to you and receive one last look from you. You
feel her pains, and her heart lacerated in yours and moved to compassion and
wounded by her love and yours. Now you see her making her way through the
mob. At any cost she wants to see you, embrace you and give you her last goodbye.
But you are more transfixed to see her deathly paleness and all your pains
reproduced in her by force of love. If she lives it is only by a miracle of
your almighty power. Now you are directing your steps toward her, but you
can hardly look at each other. Oh, what a rent to the heart of both! The
soldiers become aware, and with knocks and shoves keep mother and son from
saying goodbye. The anguish of both is so immense that your mother is petrified
by the sorrow, and is about to faint, while you again fall under the cross.
Faithful John and the pious women hold her up. Then, what your sorrowful
mother does not do bodily because she can't, she does with her soul. She
enters into you, making the Will of the Eternal One her own; and associating
herself with all your pains, she mothers you, kisses you, makes reparation,
soothes you, and pours the ointment of her sorrowful love on all your wounds.
My suffering Jesus, I too join with your transfixed mother. I make all your
pains mine. I want to mother you in every drop of your blood and in every
wound. Together with you and with her I want to make reparation for all the
dangerous encounters and for those who expose themselves to the occasions
of sin, or being constrained by the necessity to expose themselves, become
entangled in sin. Meanwhile, fallen under the cross, you moan.
The soldiers are afraid you may die under the weight of so many martyrdoms
and for the shedding of so much blood. So, by means of lashes and kicks they
manage to get you to your feet. With this, you make reparation for the repeated
falls into sin and for the grave sins committed by every class of person;
and you pray for obstinate sinners, weeping tears of blood for their conversion.
My exhausted love, while I am following you in your reparations, I see you
cannot bear the enormous weight of the cross any longer. You are now trembling
from head to foot. With the continual knocks you receive, the thorns penetrate
ever deeper into your most sacred head. The heavy weight of the cross makes
it sink deeper into your shoulder, forming a wound so deep that the bones
are laid bare. It seems to me that you die at each step, and so it is impossible
for you to go on.
But your love, which can do everything, gives you strength. As you feel
the cross sinking into your shoulder you make reparation for hidden sins,
which, not having been satisfied for, increase the bitterness of your torments.
My Jesus, let me put my shoulder under the cross to relieve you and to make
reparation with you for all hidden sins. Fearing that you may die under the
cross, your enemies force the Cyrenian to help you carry it. Unwilling and
grumbling, he helps you, not out of love but by force. Then, in your heart
there echo all the complaints of those who suffer, the lack of resignation,
the rebellions, the anger and the contempt in suffering. But you are transfixed
much more to see that the souls consecrated to you, whom you call as companions
and help in your suffering, escape from you. If you draw them to yourself
through suffering, unfortunately they free themselves from your arms to go
in search of pleasures, leaving you like this, to suffer alone. My Jesus,
while I am making reparation with you, I pray you to clasp me so tightly in
your arms that there won't be any pain you suffer which I do not share with
you, to transform myself into them, and to compensate you for the abandonment
of all creatures.
My exhausted Jesus, you can hardly walk, and you are bent low. I see that
you stop, and try to look. My heart, what is it? What do you want? Yes, it
is Veronica, who, fearing nothing, courageously wipes your blood-covered face
with a cloth, while you leave your impression on it as a sign of gratitude.
My generous Jesus, I too want to dry you, not with a cloth, but by offering
my whole being to relieve you. O Jesus, I want to enter into your interior
and give you heartbeat for heartbeat, breath for breath, affection for affection,
desire for desire. I intend to cast myself into your most holy intelligence.
And making all these heartbeats, breaths, affections and desires flow in the
immensity of your Will, I intend to multiply them to the infinite. O my Jesus,
I want to form waves of heartbeats so that no evil heartbeat will echo in
your heart, and in this way soothe all your interior bitternesses. I intend
to form waves of affections and of desires to drive away all the evil affections
and desires that could sadden your heart in the least. Furthermore, I intend
to form waves of breaths and of thoughts to drive away any breath or thought
that could displease you in the least. I will be on guard, O Jesus, so that
nothing else may afflict You, adding more bitterness to your interior pains.
O my Jesus, please, let all of my interior swim in the immensity of yours;
in this way I will be able to find enough love and will, so that no evil love
may enter your interior, nor a will which may displease You. O my Jesus, to
be more certain, I pray You to seal my thoughts with Yours, my will with Yours,
my desires with Yours, my affections and heartbeats with Yours; so that,
being sealed, they may take no life but from You. I ask You, again, O my
Jesus, to accept my poor body which I would want to tear to shreds for love
of You, and reduce it to tiny little pieces, to place over each one of your
wounds. On that wound, O Jesus, which gives You pain from so many blasphemies,
I place a little piece of my body, wanting it to say to You constantly: “I
bless You”. On that wound that gives You so much pain from the many ingratitudes,
I intend, O Jesus, to place a portion of my body, to prove my gratitude to
You. On that wound, O Jesus, which makes You suffer so much from coldness
and lack of love, I intend to place many little bits of my flesh, to say
to You constantly: “I love You, I love You, I love You!” On that wound which
gives You so much pain from the so many irreverences to your Most Holy Person,
I intend to place a piece of myself, to tell You always: “I adore You, I
adore You, I adore You!” O my Jesus, I want to diffuse myself in everything,
and in those wounds embittered by the many misbelieves, I desire that the
shreds of my body tell You, always: “I believe I believe in You, O my
Jesus, my God, and in your Holy Church, and I intend to give my life to prove
my Faith to You!” O my Jesus, I plunge myself into the immensity of your
Will, and making It my own, I want to compensate for all, and enclose the
souls of all in the power of your Most Holy Will.
O Jesus, I still have my blood left, which I want to pour over your wounds
as balm and soothing liniment, in order to relieve You and heal You completely.
Again, I intend, O Jesus, to make my thoughts flow in the heart of every sinner,
to reprimand him continuously, that he may not dare to offend You. And I
pray to You with the voice of your Blood, so that all may surrender to my
poor prayers. In this way I will be able to bring them into your Heart! Another
grace, O my Jesus, I ask of You: that in everything I see, touch and hear,
I may see, touch and hear always You; and that your Most Holy Image and your
Most Holy Name, always be impressed in every particle of my poor being.
Meanwhile, your enemies look with contempt at Veronica's deed, and they
whip you, shove you and make you move on. A few more steps, and you stop
again. your love does not stop under the weight of so many pains. seeing
the pious women weeping over your pains, you forget yourself and console
them with these words:
“Daughters, do not weep over my pains, but over your sins and over your
children.”
What a sublime lesson! How gentle is your word! O Jesus, I make reparation
with you for the lacks of charity, and I ask you for the grace of making me
forget myself so that I will remember nothing but you alone. Hearing you speak,
your enemies go into a rage. They jerk you with the ropes and angrily shove
you, so you fall. As you fall you strike against the rocks. The weight of
the cross torments you, and you feel yourself dying. Let me hold you up and
protect your most holy face with my hands. I see you on the ground, gasping
in your blood. Your enemies want to get you on your feet: They pull you with
the ropes, they raise you up by the hair, they kick you—but all in vain. You
are dying, my Jesus. What grief! My heart breaks for the sorrow.
Practically dragging you, they bring you to Mount Calvary. While they are
dragging you I perceive that you are making reparation for all the sins of
the souls consecrated to you, who weigh you down so heavily, that, in spite
of all your efforts to get up, you can't. And so, dragged and trampled, you
reach Calvary, leaving red traces of your precious blood wherever you pass.
New sufferings are waiting for you here. They strip you again, tearing off
your garments and the crown of thorns. Yes, you groan as you feel the thorns
being torn from your head. As they tear off your clothes they rip off the
lacerated flesh stuck to them as well. The wounds are torn open; blood flows
in little streams to the ground, and the pain is so intense that, almost dead,
you fall. But no one is moved to compassion for you, my Jesus. On the contrary,
with the fury of wild beasts, they again put the crown of thorns on you and
drive it onto your head. You are so tormented by the lacerations and by the
tearing of your hair, all stuck together in the dried blood, that only the
angels could say what you suffer, while horrified, they turn away their heavenly
gazes and weep. My stripped Jesus, let me press you to my heart to warm you,
for I see you are trembling, and that a cold mortal sweat spreads over your
most holy humanity. How I would like to give my life and my blood to substitute
yours, which you have lost to give me life!
Meanwhile, looking at me with his fading and dying eyes, Jesus seems to
say to me:
“My child, how much souls cost me! Here is the place where I am waiting
for everyone in order to save them. This is the place where I want to make
reparation for the sins of those who go so far as to degrade themselves below
the beasts, and who persist so much in offending me that they even reach
the point of not being able to live without committing sins. Their reason
is blinded and they sin madly. This is why they crown me with thorns for
the third time. And by being stripped, I am making reparation for those who
wear luxurious or indecent dress; for the sins committed against modesty;
and for those who are so bound to riches, honors and pleasure that they make
a god of them for their hearts. Oh, yes, each of these offenses is a death
I feel, and if I do not die it is because the Will of my eternal Father has
not yet decreed the moment of my death.”
My stripped Jesus, while I am making reparation with you, I pray you to
strip me of everything with your most holy hands, and not to permit any evil
affections to enter my heart. Keep watch over it for me, surround it with
your pains and fill it with your love. May my life be none other than the
repetition of your life; and confirm my dispossession with your blessing.
Bless me from the heart, and give me the strength to assist at your sorrowful
crucifixion, to remain crucified together with you.
Reflections and Practices.
Jesus’ love for the Cross and his eager desire to die on it to save souls
were immense! But do I love suffering like Jesus? Can I say that my heartbeats
form the echo of his divine heartbeats and that I too ask for the Cross? When
I suffer, do I have the intention of keeping Jesus company and of lightening
the burden of his Cross? How do I accompany Him? With respect to the insults
He receives, am I ready to offer Him a hand to lift Him up, and give Him my
small sufferings to ease his pain? Are my eyes always fixed on Jesus, that
I may wipe his mortal sweat and the Blood pouring from his Wounds, like an
inseparable companion who never leaves Him? As I work, pray, and experience
the weight of the intense pain and adversity of my suffering, do I allow my
suffering to soar to Jesus to refresh Him like a veil wiping away his sweat?
Do I make his difficulties my own?
O my Jesus, always call me to be at your side, and grant that You may always
remain by me, walking with me through the whole sad pilgrimage of this life.
Soar with me up the holy mountain of your Will—for You want me to reach it—
and there we shall rest together. Grant that my pains and Yours may always
merge—so that we hold each other—as I continuously wipe the Blood that pours
from your most holy Wounds.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
19th HOUR
From 11 a.m. to 12 p.m.
The Crucifixion.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
Jesus, my love, you are already stripped of your garments. Your most holy
body is so lacerated that it seems to me like a fleeced lamb. I see you trembling
from head to foot, and that you can't stand up at all. You fall [and remain
lying] on this mount until your enemies have finished preparing the cross.
My good Jesus, my all, my heart aches with sorrow to see blood streaming from
every part of your most holy body, and to see you lacerated from head to
foot. Your enemies are tired but not satisfied. In stripping you, they have
torn the crown of thorns from your most holy head with inexpressible pain,
only to drive it on again with unheardof torments. The thorns pierce
your most sacred head with new wounds, while you make reparation for the
wickedness and the obstinacy of sin, especially that of pride.
Jesus, I see that if love did not continue to drive you on, you would have
already died for the bitterness of the pain suffered in this third crowning
of thorns. But I see that you cannot bear the pain; and, your eyes veiled
with blood, you look to see if at least someone comes near you to support
you in so much sorrow and confusion. My gentle Jesus, my dear life, you are
not alone here as on the night of your passion. Your sorrowful mother is here.
Her heart torn, she suffers as many deaths as you do pains. O Jesus, both
loving Mary Magdalene, who appears out of her senses because of your pains,
and faithful John, who seems to be struck dumb by the force of the sorrow
of your passion, are also here.
This is the mount of lovers; you cannot be alone. But tell me, my love,
who do you want to sustain you in so much pain? Please, let me come and hold
you up. I need to do this more than anyone else. So, your dear mother and
the others let me take their place. O Jesus, I come beside you, embrace you,
pray you to rest your head on my shoulder and to make me feel your thorns
in my head. I want to put my head close to yours, not only to feel your thorns,
but also to wash all my thoughts with the most precious blood that is trickling
down your head. With this, all my thoughts will be in the act of making reparation
to you for any offense of thought committed by creatures. Yes, my love, come
close to me. One by one, I want to kiss the drops of blood that are streaming
down your most holy face. And while I adore them one by one, I pray you to
make each drop of this blood be light to the mind of every creature, so that
no one will offend you with evil thoughts. But, while I am holding you close
and you are leaning on me, I look at you, O Jesus, and see that you are looking
at the cross which your enemies are preparing for you. You hear the blows
of the hammer on the cross, with which they are making the holes for the nails
to crucify you.
O my Jesus, I feel your heart pounding and beating violently, as you long
for this most welcomed—though indescribably painful—bed of rest, by means
of which you will seal the salvation of our souls in yourself. Yes, I hear
you saying:
“My love, dear cross, my precious bed. You were my martyrdom in life, and
now you are my rest. O cross, receive me quickly in your arms. I am waiting
anxiously. Holy cross, in you I will give fulfillment to everything. Hurry,
O cross, and fulfill the ardent desires that are consuming me, to give life
to souls. You, O cross, will be the seal of these lives. No, don't delay any
longer! I am anxiously waiting to extend myself on you, to open heaven to
all my children and to close hell. O cross, though you are my struggle, you
are my victory and my complete triumph as well; and in you I will give abundant
inheritances, victories, triumphs and crowns to my children.”
But, who could ever repeat everything my dear Jesus says to the cross?
While Jesus is unburdening himself with the cross, his enemies command him
to extend himself on it, and he promptly obeys, to make reparation for our
disobediences. My love, before you extend yourself on the cross, let me press
you closer to my heart and give you a kiss, and receive one from you as well.
Listen, Jesus, I don't want to leave you. I want to come with you to extend
myself on the cross and remain nailed together with you. True love knows no
separation of any kind, so you will forgive the boldness of my love and will
permit me to remain crucified with you. You see, my gentle love, I am not
the only one who is asking this of you. Your suffering mother, inseparable
Mary Magdalene, and beloved John also say that it would be more bearable to
be crucified with you than to assist and to see you crucified alone. So, together
with you, I offer myself to the eternal Father, as I make myself one with
your Will, with your love, with your reparations, with your very heart, and
with all your pains.
Oh! It seem that my sorrowful Jesus says to me:
“My child, you have guessed what my love wants. This is my will: that all
those who love me be crucified with me. Yes, please, by all means, come to
extend yourself with me on the cross. I will make you become life of my life.
I will keep you as the beloved of my heart.”
Now, my sweet Jesus, you lay down on the cross. Your executioners have nails
and hammers in their hands, to nail you to it; and you look at them with such
love and gentleness as to invite them to crucify you without delay. Although
they feel repugnance, with inhuman fury they take your right hand, hold the
nail on it, and with hammerblows drive it through to the opposite side
of the cross. The pain you suffer, my Jesus, is so great and so intense that
you tremble. The light of your beautiful eyes is darkened and your most holy
face turns pale and ghastly. O blessed right hand, I kiss you, I sympathize
with you, I adore you and I thank you for myself and for everyone.
For as many blows as you received, so many souls do I ask you to free from
condemnation to hell in this moment. For as many drops of blood as you shed,
so many souls do I pray you to wash in this most precious blood. And for the
bitter pain you suffered, especially when they were nailing you to the cross,
which pulled the nerves in your arms, I pray you to open heaven to everyone
and to bless everyone. May your blessing call sinners to conversion, and
heretics and infidels to the light of the faith. O Jesus, my dear life, no
sooner do your enemies finish hammering the nail through your right hand,
than they take your left with unspeakable cruelty. To make it reach the hole
prepared beforehand, they pull on it so hard that you feel the joints of your
arms and of your shoulders dislocated. And because of the intensity of the
pain, your legs retract and twist. Left hand of my Jesus, I kiss you, I sympathize
with you, I adore you and I thank you.
By those blows and pains you suffered when they drove in the nail, I pray
you to grant flight in this moment to many souls from purgatory to heaven.
And by the blood you shed, I pray you to put out the flames that are burning
those souls. May it be relief for all of them, refreshment and beneficial
bath that purifies them of all their stains, and disposes them to the beatific
vision. My love and my all, for the excruciating pain you suffered when they
drove the nail through your left hand, I pray you to close hell to all souls
and to hold back the thunderbolts of the divine justice, unfortunately irritated
by our sins. Yes, Jesus, let this nail in your blessed left hand be the key
that closes the door of the divine justice, to keep punishments from raining
down on the earth, and to open the treasures of the divine mercy in favor
of everyone. So, I pray you to clasp us in your arms.
Now it seems like you can't move to do anything, and that we are free to
be able to do everything for you. Therefore, I put the world and all generations
into your arms. My love, with the voices of your own blood, I pray you not
to deny anyone your forgiveness; and by the merits of this most precious blood,
I ask you to give salvation and grace to everyone. Don't exclude anyone, O
my Jesus. My love, Jesus, your enemies are not yet satisfied. With diabolical
fury they grasp your most holy feet, which were always untiring in seeking
souls and are now contracted because of the pain in your hands. They pull
them so hard that your knees, your ribs and all the bones in your chest are
dislocated. My heart can't bear it, O my good Jesus! Darkened and veiled in
blood, I see your beautiful eyes roll because of the pain. And your lips are
twisted, livid and swollen by the blows. Your cheeks are sunk; your teeth
are chattering; your chest is heaving; and because of the way they have pulled
your hands and feet, your heart is all pulled out of shape. My love, how willingly
I would take your place to spare you so much pain. I want to extend myself
over all your members to give you relief, a kiss and comfort for everyone,
and a reparation for everything.
My Jesus, I see that they put one foot on the other and drive a nail through
your most holy feet. And what is worse, it is blunt. Please, my Jesus, as
the nail passes through them, permit me to put all priests into your right
foot, especially those who do not live good and holy lives, so that they may
be light for all peoples; and in your left foot, all peoples, so that they
may receive light from priests, and respect and obey them. As the nail pierces
your feet, so let it run through priests and all peoples, so that neither
one of them can separate from you. O blessed feet of my Jesus, I kiss you,
I sympathize with you, I adore you and I thank you. For these most bitter
pains you have suffered, for the racking that dislocated all your bones,
and for the blood you have shed, I pray you to enclose all souls in your
wounds. Don't look down on anyone, O Jesus. Let your nails pierce the powers
of our soul, so that they will not separate from you; and our heart, so that
it will always be fixed in you alone. May all our sentiments be nailed by
your nails, so that they will not find any pleasure which does not come from
you. My crucified Jesus, now I see you all bathed in blood. You are swimming
in a sea of blood, and these drops of blood say but one thing to you: souls.
Indeed, I see souls from all the ages teeming in each of these drops of blood.
So, you had us all kept in yourself.
O Jesus, by the power of this blood, I ask you not to let anyone else escape
from you. O my Jesus, while the executioners finish nailing your feet, I draw
near to your heart. I see that you can no longer go on, but your love cries
louder: “Give me still more pains!” My Jesus, I embrace your heart, I kiss
you, I sympathize with you, I adore you and I thank you for myself and for
everyone. O Jesus, I want to rest my head on your heart to hear what you
are suffering in this painful crucifixion. Oh, I hear that every blow of
the hammer echoes in your heart! This heart is the center of everything: here
your pains begin, and here they end. Yes, if it were not waiting to be pierced
with a lance, the flames of your love and the blood that boils around it
would have run their course and made your heart burst. This blood and these
flames call the souls that love you to make a happy dwelling in your heart.
For the love of this heart and for your most precious blood, I pray you,
I beg you to give holiness to those souls that love you. O Jesus, never let
them go out of your heart. And with your grace, multiply the vocations of
victim souls, so that they may continue your life on earth. You wanted to
give a special place in your heart to the souls that love you. Never permit
them to lose this place. O Jesus, make the flames of your heart burn me and
consume me; your blood beautify me; and your love always keep me nailed to
love, with pain and with reparation.
O my Jesus, the executioners have now finished nailing your hands and your
feet to the cross. Then, turning it over to clinch the nails, they make your
adorable face touch the ground bathed in your own blood. With your divine
mouth you kiss the ground. My dear love, with this kiss you intend to kiss
all souls and bind them to your love, sealing their salvation. O Jesus, let
me take your place. And while the executioners are bending the nails over,
let these blows wound me as well, and nail me entirely to your love. My Jesus,
my gentle good, I put my head in yours. As the thorns sink ever deeper into
your head, I want to offer you all my thoughts as affectionate kisses to console
you and to lessen the torments of your thorns. O Jesus, I put my eyes in
yours; and I see your enemies have not yet had their fill of insulting and
mocking you. So, I want to comfort your divine gazes with my gazes of love.
I put my mouth in your, O Jesus. Your tongue is almost stuck to the roof
of your mouth for the bitterness of the gall and for your burning thirst.
To quench your thirst, O my Jesus, you would like to have the hearts of all
creatures overflowing with love, but since you don't, you burn ever more for
them.
My gentle Jesus, I intend to send you rivers of love to lessen in some way
the bitterness of the gall and your burning thirst. O Jesus, I put my hands
in yours. At every movement you make, the wounds of your hands tear more,
and the pain becomes more intense and cutting. My dear Jesus, to relieve you
and to soothe this pain, I offer you the holy works of all creatures. O Jesus,
I put my feet in yours. How you suffer in your most holy feet! It seems as
though all the movements of your most sacred body reflect in them; and no
one is near to support you and to give some relief to the bitterness of your
pains. My dearest life, I would like to gather together the steps of the
creatures of all generations— past, present and future—and direct them all
to you, to come and console you in your intense pains. Indeed, O my Jesus,
I intend to place in them the eternal, divine activity that You do with your
Father and the Holy Spirit—to give real comfort to your Sacred Humanity.
O my Jesus, I put my heart in your poor heart. How torn it is! If you move
your feet, you feel the nerves at the top of your heart being torn. If you
move your hands, the nerves on both sides of your heart are torn more than
your hands are by the nails. If you move your head, the mouth of your heart
bleeds and suffers the entire crucifixion. O my Jesus, how can I comfort such
pain? I will disperse myself in you. I will put my heart in yours; my desires
in your ardent desires, to destroy any evil desires. I will diffuse my love
in Yours so that the fire of your love may inflame the hearts of all creatures
and destroy their impure loves. I will spread my love in yours, so that the
hearts of all creatures may be burned with your fire, and profane loves destroyed.
Your Sacred Heart will be comforted. And from now on, O Jesus, I promise
always to remain nailed to this most loving heart with the nails of your
desires, of your love and of your Will. O my Jesus, you are crucified, and
I am crucified in you. Don't let me become unnailed from you in the least.
May I always remain nailed, to be able to love you and make reparation to
you for everyone, and to soothe the pain creatures give you with their sins.
My good Jesus, I see that your enemies raise the heavy wood of the cross
and let it fall into the hole which they have prepared. And you, my dear
love, remain suspended between heaven and earth.
In this solemn moment you turn to the Father; and with your weak and feeble
voice, you say to him:
“Holy Father, here I am, burdened with all the sins of the world. There
is no sin which is not laid upon me. For this reason, do not pour out the
punishments of your divine justice upon men, but upon me, your Son. O Father,
let me bind all souls to this cross, and implore forgiveness for them with
the voices of my blood and of my wounds. O Father, don't you see how I have
been reduced? By this cross, in virtue of these sufferings, grant true conversion,
peace, forgiveness and holiness to everyone.”
O Jesus, You are nailed to the Cross. But your soul is no longer on earth.
It is in the Heavens with your Divine Father—to defend and plead the cause
of our souls. My crucified love, I too want to follow you before the throne
of the Eternal One, and together with you I want to disarm the divine justice.
Joined with your Will, I make your most holy humanity mine. Together with
you I want to do whatever you do. My life, permit me to make my thoughts flow
in yours; my love, my will and my desires in yours; my heartbeat in your
heart; and all my being in you, so that nothing can escape me, and I can
repeat all that you do, act for act and word for word. My crucified Jesus,
seeing your divine Father extremely angered with creatures, I see that you
prostrate yourself before him and hide all creatures in your most holy humanity.
With this, you make us safe, so that by looking at us in you, for your love,
the Father won't drive the creature away from himself. And if he looks at
it with anger, it is because so many souls have disfigured the beautiful image
created by him, and have set their thoughts only on offending him. And instead
of using their intelligence to understand him, as it was meant to be, they
convert it into a den where they hide all their sins.
O my Jesus, to appease him, you call the attention of your divine Father
to your most holy head, to see it pierced by thorns that cause you atrocious
agonies. These torments have all the intelligences of creatures nailed, as
it were, in your mind, for which, one by one, you offer an expiation to satisfy
the divine justice. Oh, how these thorns are compassionate voices before the
divine majesty that excuse all the evil thoughts of creatures! My Jesus, my
thoughts are one with yours. So, together with you before the divine majesty,
I pray, implore, make reparation, and excuse all the evil that is done by
all the intelligences of creatures. Let me take your thorns and your own intelligence,
and go around together with you to all creatures, to join your intelligence
to theirs. And with the holiness of your intelligence I want to return to
them the original intelligence you created them with. With the holiness of
your thoughts, let me set all the thoughts of creatures in order in you,
and with your thorns pierce all the minds of creatures, giving back to you
dominion and rule over everyone. Yes, my Jesus, you alone be the ruler of
every thought, of every affection, and of all the peoples. You alone rule
everything. Only in this way will the face of the earth—which causes horror
and terror—be changed. Crucified Jesus, I notice that you continue to see
the divine Father angered, for he looks at poor creatures and finds them all
stained with sins and covered with the ugliest filth, which causes revulsion
to all heaven. Oh, how the purity of the divine gaze is horrified, almost
to the point of no longer recognizing the poor creature as the work of his
most holy hands! Indeed, creatures seem to be as so many monsters that inhabit
the earth, drawing upon themselves the just anger of the paternal gaze. O
my Jesus, to appease him you try to soothe his gaze by exchanging your eyes
with his, making him see yours covered with blood and swollen with tears.
You weep before the divine majesty, to move him to compassion for the misfortune
of so many creatures.
And I hear your voice that says: “My Father, it is true that the ungrateful
creature is defiling itself ever more with sins, so that it doesn't merit
your paternal gaze any more. But look at me, O Father. I want to weep enough
before you, to form a bath of tears and of blood to wash this filth with which
creatures are covered. My Father, do you perhaps want to reject me? No, you
cannot: I am your Son. And while I am your Son I am also the head of all
creatures, and they are my members. Let us save them, O Father, let us save
them.”
My Jesus, boundless love, I would like to have your eyes to cry before the
supreme majesty over the loss of so many poor creatures, and for times so
sad as these! Let me take your tears and your very gazes, which are one with
mine, and go around to all creatures. To move them to compassion for their
souls and for your love, I will make them see that you weep for them, and
that while they are dirtying themselves, you have your tears and blood ready
to wash them. Then, seeing you cry, they will surrender. Yes, with these tears
permit me to wash all the filthiness of creatures. Let me make these tears
descend into their hearts, soften so many souls hardened in sin, and overcome
the obstinacy of all hearts. With your gazes, let me penetrate them so as
to make all eyes look up to heaven to love you, and no longer roam over the
earth to offend you. With this, the divine Father will not refuse to look
at poor humanity.
Crucified Jesus, I see that the anger of the divine Father still has not
calmed down, because, while his paternal goodness, moved by so much love for
the poor creature, has filled heaven and earth with so many proofs of love
and of benefits for it, that at almost every step and act it feels the love
and the graces of that paternal heart flowing, the creature, always ungrateful,
despising this love, does not want to recognize it. Indeed, it faces so much
love by filling heaven and earth with insults, contempt and outrages, going
so far as to trample it under its impure feet, even wanting to destroy it
by making an idol of itself. Oh, all these offenses even penetrate the heavens
and come before the divine majesty. Oh, how he is angered, seeing that the
wretched creature goes so far as to insult him and offend him in every way!
O my Jesus, always intent on defending us, with the enrapturing force of
your love, you compel the Father to look at your most holy face covered with
all these insults and contempt; and you say to him:
“My Father, do not despise poor creatures. If you reject them you reject
me. Please, be appeased! I have all these offenses on my face, which responds
to you for everyone. My Father, stop your fury against poor humanity. They
are blind and don't know what they are doing. So, observe me well: see how
I am reduced for their cause. If you are not moved to compassion for miserable
humanity, be moved to pity by this face of mine, all soiled with spit, covered
with blood, pale and swollen by all the slaps and blows received. Have mercy,
my Father! I was the most beautiful of all, and now I am so disfigured that
I no longer recognize myself. I have become the most repugnant, despised and
rejected of all. So, at any cost I want the poor creature saved!”
My Jesus, is it possible for you to love us so? Your love crushes my poor
heart. I want to follow you in everything, so let me take your most holy face
to have it in my power to continually show it so disfigured to the Father,
to move him to compassion for poor humanity, which is so oppressed under the
scourge of the divine justice that it lies nearly dead. Let me go into the
midst of creatures and show them this face of yours so disfigured for their
sake, to move them to compassion for their souls and for your love. With
the light that radiates from your face, and with the enrapturing force of
your love, let me make them understand who you are and who they are, who dare
to offend you. This will make their souls rise from so many sins in which
they live dead to grace, and make them all prostrate themselves before you,
in the act of adoring you and glorifying you. My crucified, adorable Jesus,
the creature always continues to irritate the divine justice, and from its
tongue there sounds the echo of horrendous blasphemies, swearing and cursing
voices, evil discourses, plots to kill and to massacre. All these voices
deafen the earth and even penetrate the heavens, deafening the divine ears.
Weary of this poisonous echo that it sends him, the Creator would like to
get rid of the creature, banishing it from himself. All these poisonous voices
curse, and cry vengeance and justice against themselves. Oh, how the divine
justice feels compelled to discharge punishments! Oh, how so many horrendous
blasphemies arouse its fury against the creature! O my Jesus, loving us with
supreme love, you face these deadly voices with your allpowerful and
creative voice, in which you gather up all these voices. You make your gentle
voice resound in the ears of the Father to compensate him for the annoyances
that creatures cause him, and you give him as many more voices of blessings
and praises. Then you cry: “Mercy, graces and love for the poor creature!”
To appease him even more you show him your most holy mouth, and say to him:
“My Father, look at me again. Do not hear the voices of creatures, but mine.
I am the one who is satisfying for everyone. So, I pray you to look at the
creature, but to do so in me. If you look at it outside of me, what will become
of it? It is weak, ignorant, capable only of doing wrong, and full of all
miseries. Mercy! Have mercy on the poor creature! I will answer for them
with this tongue of mine embittered by gall, parched by thirst, burnt and
scorched by love.”
My embittered Jesus, my voice in yours wants to face all these offenses.
Let me take your tongue and your lips, and go around to all creatures, touching
your tongue to theirs, so that in the act of offending you, by feeling the
bitterness you are suffering, if not for love, at least for the bitterness
they feel, they may no longer blaspheme. Let me touch their lips with yours,
so that with the fire caused by sin upon everyone lips, and with your almighty
voice ringing in every breast, the current of all evil voices may be stopped,
and all human voices may be transformed into voices of blessings and praises.
O holy, crucified Jesus, the creature still does not surrender to so much
love and pain. Indeed, despising you, it continues to add sin to sin, committing
enormous sacrileges, homicides, suicides, duels, frauds, deceits, cruelties
and betrayals. Oh, how all these evil works weigh on the paternal arms. So,
unable to sustain their weight, the Father is about to lower them, pouring
out fury and destruction upon the earth.
O my Jesus, to snatch the creature from the divine fury, fearing to see
it destroyed, you extend your arms to the Father so that he will not lower
his to destroy the creature. Helping to sustain the weight with your arms,
you disarm him and keep the divine justice from taking its course. Then,
to move him to compassion and pity for miserable humanity, you say to him
with the most persuasive voice:
“My Father, look at these torn hands and at these nails piercing them, that
nail all these evil works to me. Yes, it is in these hands that I feel all
the agonies which these evil works give me. Aren't you content, O my Father,
with my pains? Aren't they, perhaps, capable of satisfying you? Yes, these
dislocated arms of mine will always be chains that will keep the poor creature
bound, so that it may not escape me—except someone who wants to tear himself
from me by way of force. Besides this, these arms of mine will be loving chains
that will bind you, my Father, to keep you from destroying the poor creatures.
What is more, I will always draw you toward the creature so that you may
pour out your graces and mercies on it.”
My Jesus, your love is a sweet enchantment for me, and it drives me to do
what you are doing. So, give me your arms, for, together with you, at the
cost of any pain, I want to prevent the divine justice from taking its course
against poor humanity. With the blood that is flowing from your hands, I want
to put out the fire of sin that enkindles it, and calm its fury. And to move
the Father to compassion for creatures, let me put in your arms so many torn
members, the groanings of so many poor wounded, and so many suffering and
oppressed hearts. Let me go around to all creatures and embrace everyone in
your arms to that all may return to your heart. With the power of your creative
hands, permit me to stop the current of so many evil works and to make everyone
turn away from working evil.
My lovable, crucified Jesus, the creatures is still not tired of offending
you. It wants to drink to the dredges, all the scum of sin, and it runs almost
madly along the ways of evil, falling headlong into sin time and again. It
disobeys your laws; and refusing to recognize you, it rebels against you.
Almost to spite you, it wants to go to hell. Oh, how the supreme majesty is
angered! O my Jesus, triumphing over everything, even over the obstinacy of
creatures, to appease the divine Father, you show him all your most sacred
humanity, horribly lacerated, dislocated and torn. You show him your most
holy feet pierced. In them, you have all the steps of creatures, which give
you such mortal pains that your feet are contorted by the atrocious spasms.
I hear your voice, more touching than ever, as if in the act of dying, that
wants to overcome the creature by way of love and of pain, and triumph over
the heart of your Father.
You say: “My Father, look at me from head to foot: there is no whole part
left in me. There is no place where I can still be wounded, in order to suffer
more pains. If you are not appeased by this spectacle of love and of pain,
who will ever be able to calm you? O creatures, if you do not surrender to
so much love, what hope do you have of converting? These wounds and this blood
will always be voices which will call down from heaven to earth, graces of
repentance, forgiveness and compassion for poor humanity!”
My Jesus, I see you in a state of violence, wanting to appease the Father
and to overcome the poor creature. So, let me take your most holy feet and
go around to all creatures to tie their steps to your feet, so that if they
should want to walk the way of evil, by feeling the chains with which you
have them bound to yourself, they won't be able to do it. Yes, with your feet
make them withdraw from the way of evil, and put them on the path of good,
making them more docile to your laws. And with your nails, close hell so
that no one else will fall into it. My Jesus, crucified lover, I see that
you can't take it any more. The terrible tension you suffer on the cross;
the continual grinding of your bones which are dislocated ever more at every
little movement; your flesh which is torn more and more; the repeated offenses
you receive, which give you a more painful passion and death; the burning
thirst that consumes you; the interior pains that suffocate you with bitterness,
pains and love; and all your martyrdoms, for the human ingratitude which comes
before you like a violent wave, even penetrating your pierced heart. . .
Yes, all these things crush you so much that your most holy humanity, unable
to withstand the weight of so many martyrdoms, is about to succumb. Delirious
with love and pains, it asks for help and pity.
Crucified Jesus, is it possible that you who maintain everything and give
life to everyone, are asking for help? Oh, how I would like to penetrate each
drop of your blood and pour out mine to soothe each of your wounds, and lessen
the pain of each thorn, making their punctures less painful, and to relieve
each interior pain of your heart and so lessen the intensity of your bitterness.
I would like to give you life for life. And if it were possible, I would
unnail you from the cross to take your place myself. But I see that I am
nothing and that I can do nothing. I am too insignificant. So, give me yourself.
I will take life in you, and in you I will give you to yourself. With this,
you will content my longings. Lacerated Jesus, I see that your most holy
humanity is coming to an end, not for your sake, but to bring our redemption
to perfect fulfillment. You need divine help, and so you throw yourself into
the paternal arms, asking for help and relief. Oh, how the divine Father
is moved to compassion as he observes the horrendous destruction of your
most holy humanity, the terrible work which sin has done to your most holy
members. To satisfy your longings of love, he presses you to his paternal
heart and gives you the helps necessary to complete our redemption. As he
is clasping you, in your heart you feel repeated with even more severely,
the blows of the nails, the lashes of the scourging, the tearing of the wounds,
the punctures of the thorns. Oh, how the Father is struck! How indignant he
becomes, seeing that all these pains are produced even in your heart, even
by souls consecrated to you! And in his sorrow he says to you:
“My Son, is it possible that not even all of those whom you have chosen
are with you? Indeed, it seems as though these souls ask refuge and hiding
in your heart to embitter you and give you a more painful death. And what
is worse, all these pains they give you are hidden and covered by hypocrisy.
No, Son, I cannot contain my indignation any longer for the ingratitude of
these souls, who cause me more sorrow than all the other creatures together.”
O my Jesus, triumphing over everything, you defend these souls. With the
immense love of your heart you protect yourself from the waves of bitterness
and the transfixions that these souls give you. And to appease the Father,
you say to him:
“My Father, look at my heart. Let all these sorrows satisfy you. And the
more bitter they are, so much more powerful may they be over your paternal
heart to obtain graces, light and forgiveness for these souls. My Father,
do not reject them. They will be my defenders who will continue my life on
earth. O most loving Father, consider that if my humanity has now reached
the extreme of its sufferings, my heart as well bursts for the bitterness
and the intimate pains and unheard-of agonies which it has suffered for the
duration of thirty-four years, beginning from the first instant of my incarnation.
O Father, you know the intensity of these interior bitternesses which would
have been capable of making me die of pure agony in every moment, if our omnipotence
had not sustained me to prolong my suffering up to this extreme agony. Yes,
if until now I have offered you all the pains of my most holy humanity to
appease your justice which is hanging over everyone and to draw upon everyone
your triumphant mercy, now, in a particular way for the souls consecrated
to us that have gone astray, I present my heart to you, crushed, pressed
and broken under the press of all the moments of my mortal life. Yes, my
Father, observe this heart which has loved you with infinite love and has
always burned in me with love for my brothers and your children. This is
the generous heart with which I have longed to suffer, to give you complete
satisfaction for all the sins of men. Have pity on its desolations, its continual
sorrows, its anguishes, its tediums and its sadnesses in the face of death.
O my Father, was there, perhaps, ever a single beat of my heart that did
not seek your glory and the salvation of my brothers, at the cost of pains
and of blood? Didn't there come forth from this everoppressed heart
of mine the ardent entreaties, the groanings, the sighs and the resounding
cries with which for thirty-four years I have wept and cried out for mercy
in your presence?”
“O my Father, you have heard me for an infinite number of times and for
an infinite number of souls, for which I thank you infinitely. But look,
O my Father: See how my heart cannot be calmed in its pains if even a single
soul is to escape from its love, because we love each individual soul as
much as all souls together. Will it be said that I had to give my last sigh
on this painful instrument of execution, even seeing souls consecrated to
us, perish miserably? I am dying in an ocean of anguish and pain for the
wickedness and the eternal loss of perverse Judas, who was so hard and thankless
that he rejected all my loving and delicate ways. I graced him so, even to
the point of making him priest and bishop, as my other apostles. Please,
Father, let this abyss of pains be enough! How many souls I see, chosen by
us for the double sacred vocation, who, to a greater or lesser degree, want
to imitate Judas! Help me, my Father, help me! I cannot bear all these pains.
See if there is one fiber of my heart which is not tormented more than my
divine body with all the rents it has received. See if all the blood I am
shedding does not gush more from my heart —which is destroyed by love and
by pain— than from all my wounds. Have pity, my Father, have pity! Not on
me, for I want to suffer even infinitely for poor souls; but have pity on
all souls, especially on those, both men and women, who have been called
to my holy service and to my nuptials of love. Listen, O Father, for my heart,
soon to die, accelerates its inflamed heartbeats, and cries: 'For all these
pains, I ask of you efficacious graces of repentance and true conversion
for these unhappy souls! Do not let even one of them escape us!' I thirst,
my Father. I thirst for all souls, especially for these. I thirst for more
suffering for each of these souls. My Father, I have always done your Will.
Now, this Will of mine which is also yours, please let it be perfectly fulfilled
for love of me, your most beloved Son in whom you have found all your good
pleasure!”
My Jesus, I can't stand it any longer! I unite myself to your entreaties,
to your pains, to your suffering love. Give me your heart so that I may feel
your own thirst for the souls consecrated to you, and with my heartbeats,
return to you the love and the affections of them all. Let me go around to
everyone and put your heart into them. By its contact may the cold be warmed;
the lukewarm shaken; the wayward called back, to receive once again all the
graces they have rejected. Your heart is suffocated by the sorrow and the
bitterness of seeing that the designs you had on these consecrated souls were
not realized because of their incorrespondence, and that so many other souls,
which, through them, were to have life and salvation, suffer the sad consequences.
I will show them your heart so embittered for their sake, I will hurl darts
of fire from your heart into them, and I will present all your entreaties
and all your sufferings for them [to the Father]. It won't be possible for
them not to surrender to you, and so they will return repentant to your feet.
Your loving designs on them will be re-established, and they will be in you
and around you, no longer to offend you, but to make reparation to you and
to console and defend you.
Crucified Jesus, my life, I see that you are still agonizing on the cross,
for your love is not yet satisfied in its desire to give fulfillment to everything.
Yes, I too agonize together with you. And I call everyone, angels and saints:
Come to Mount Calvary to contemplate the excesses and the follies of the love
of a God! Let us kiss his bleeding wounds and adore them, let us support those
lacerated members, let us thank Jesus for the completed redemption. Let us
give a glance to the transfixed mother, who feels as many pains and deaths
in her Immaculate Heart for as many pains she sees in her Son-God. Her very
garments are spattered with blood, and Mount Calvary is all showered with
it. So, all together, let us take this blood. And praying the sorrowful mother
to join with us, let us go out to all the world to help everyone. Let us
help the endangered that they may not perish, the fallen that they may rise
again, and those who are about to fall that they may not.
Let us give this blood to so many poor blind creatures so that the light
of the truth may shine in them. In a particular way, let us go into the midst
of the poor combatants to be watchful guards over them. And if they are about
to be hit by bullets, let us receive them in our arms to comfort them. If
they are abandoned by everyone and then are despairing for their sad lot,
let us give them this blood, so that they may become resigned, and to calm
the fierceness of their pains. Then, if we should see souls that are about
to fall into hell, let us give them this divine blood which contains the price
of redemption, to snatch them from Satan.
While I have Jesus pressed to my heart to keep him defended and sheltered
from everything, I will press everyone to his heart so that all may receive
the efficacious grace of conversion, and strength and salvation. O Jesus,
I see blood streaming from your hands and your feet. The weeping angels, gathered
around you like a crown, admire the wonders of your immense love. I see your
tender mother at the foot of the cross, pierced by sorrow. Your dear Mary
Magdalene and beloved John are all wrapped in an ecstasy of wonder, of love
and of sorrow. O Jesus, I unite myself to you, and I embrace your cross;
and taking all the drops of your blood, I pour them into my heart. When I
see your justice armed against sinners, I will appease you by showing you
this blood. When I want the conversion of souls set in sin, I will show you
this blood. And in virtue of it you will not reject my prayer, because I
have the token in my hands.
And now, my crucified Jesus, in the name of all generations, past, present
and future, together with your mother and all the angels, I prostrate myself
before you and say:
“We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you, because by your holy cross you
have redeemed the world.”
Reflections and Practices.
Jesus Christ obeys his executioners and lovingly accepts the insults and
suffering they inflict on Him. Because of the great Love which Jesus felt
for our poor souls, He discovered in the Cross his bed of rest. But, in all
my pain, do I find rest in Him? With my patience and love, can I say that
I am preparing a bed for Jesus in my heart? As Jesus is being crucified, every
internal and external part of Him experiences some unique suffering. Do I
keep myself completely crucified to Him, at least in my primary senses (of
sight and hearing)? When we engage in frivolous conversation or in some other
similar form of entertainment that delights us, then Jesus remains nailed
to the Cross.
But if we sacrifice this same pleasure for love of Him, we remove his nails
and take them upon ourselves. Do I always keep my mind, my heart, and my whole
being transfixed with the nails of his Divine Will? While Jesus is crucified,
He lovingly beholds his executioners. For his love, do I look with love at
those who offend me?
My crucified Jesus, may your nails remain in my heart so that I experience
no heartbeat or desire that does not feel their penetration. And may the blood
that issues from my heart be the balm that relieves all your Wounds.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
20th HOUR
From 12 p.m. to 1 p.m.
The first hour of agony and the first word.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
The first word:
“Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing!”
My crucified Jesus, I see you on the cross as on your throne of triumph
in the act of overcoming everything and all hearts, and of drawing them so
much to yourself that everyone feels your superhuman power. Nature, horrified
by such a misdeed, prostrates itself before you, and is waiting in silence
for a word from you to give you homage and to make your dominion be recognized.
The weeping sun withdraws its light, unable to bear the sight of such pains.
Hell feels terror and is waiting silently. So, all is silent. Your transfixed
mother and your faithful ones are all mute and petrified at the terribly painful
sight of your torn and dislocated humanity, and are silently waiting for
a word from you. Your humanity itself, which lies in an ocean of pains amid
the atrocious spasms of the agony, is silent, so that it is feared that from
one breath to the next you may die.
What else? The wicked Jews and the cruel executioners themselves, who, until
a short while ago were insulting you, mocking you and calling you impostor
and evildoer, and the very thieves who were blaspheming you, all fall
silent and are struck dumb. They are filled with remorse. And if they try
to utter you some insult, it dies on their lips. But penetrating into your
interior, I see that love surges, suffocating you, and you cannot contain
it. Forced by your love which torments you more than the pains themselves,
with a strong and moving voice, you speak as the God you are. You raise your
dying eyes to heaven and exclaim:
“Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing!”
And again you enclose yourself in silence, immersed in unheardof pains.
Crucified Jesus, is so much love possible? Yes, after so many pains and
insults, your first word is forgiveness, and you excuse us before the Father
of so many sins. Yes, you make this word descend into every heart after sinning,
and you are the first to offer forgiveness. But how many reject it, and do
not accept it! Your love then becomes frenetic because you are yearning to
give pardon and the kiss of peace to everyone! As it hears your words, hell
trembles and recognizes you as God. Astonished, nature and everyone recognize
your divinity and your inextinguishable love, and silently wait to see how
far it goes. It is not only your voice, but also your blood and your wounds
that cry to every heart after sinning:
“Come into my arms, for I forgive you. And the seal of forgiveness is at
the price of my blood!”
O my gentle Jesus, repeat this word again to every sinner in the world.
Implore mercy for everyone. Apply the infinite merits of your most precious
blood to them. O good Jesus, continue to appease the divine justice for everyone;
and give grace to those who are in need of forgiving others, but do not feel
the strength to do it. My adorable, crucified Jesus, in these three hours
of bitter agony, you want to give fulfillment to everything. While you are
on the cross in silence, I see that in your interior you want to satisfy the
Father in everything. You thank him for everyone, satisfy for everyone, ask
forgiveness for everyone. You plead for the grace that no one ever offend
you again. And to obtain this from the Father, you review your entire life
from the first instant of your conception to your last breath. My Jesus, unending
love, together with you, your inconsolable mother, Saint John and the pious
women, let me also review your whole life. My dear Jesus, I thank you for
so many thorns that have pierced your adorable head, for the drops of blood
shed from it, for the blows you have received on it and for the hair they
have torn from it.
I thank you for all the good you have done and have obtained for everyone,
for the lights and good inspirations you have given us, and for all the times
you have forgiven all our sins of thought, arrogance, pride and self-esteem.
O my Jesus, I ask forgiveness in everyone's name, for all the times we have
crowned you with thorns, for all the drops of blood we have made you shed
from your most sacred head, and for all the times we have not corresponded
to your inspirations. For all these pains you have suffered, O good Jesus,
I pray you to obtain the grace for us never to commit sins of thought again.
Furthermore, I intend to offer you everything you have suffered in your
most holy head to give you all the glory that creatures would have given
you if they had made good use of their intelligence.
Laudate Dominum omnes gentes, laudate Eum omnes populi. Quoniam confirmata
est super nos misericordia Ejus, et veritas Domini manet in aeternum. Gloria
Patri….
O my Jesus, I adore your most holy eyes. I thank you for all the tears and
drops of blood they have shed, for the cruel pricks of the thorns, for all
the times you were despised, and for the insults and ridicule sustained throughout
your passion. I ask forgiveness for all those who make use of their sight
to offend you and to outrage you. By the pains you have suffered in your most
sacred eyes, I pray you to grant us the grace that no one offend you again
with evil gazes. I also intend to offer you everything that you yourself suffered
in your most holy eyes, to give you all the glory creatures would have given
you if their eyes had been fixed only on heaven, on the divinity and on you,
O my Jesus. I adore your most holy ears. I thank you for all that you suffered
while on Calvary, when the executioners deafened them with shouts and sneers.
I ask your forgiveness in everyone's name, for all the evil conversations
that creatures listen to. I pray you to open the ears of all men to the eternal
truths and to the voices of grace, and that no one will offend you again
with his sense of hearing. I also intend to offer you everything you have
suffered in your most holy sense of hearing, to give you all the glory that
creatures would have given you if they had made holy use of this sense. O
my Jesus, I adore and kiss your most holy face. I thank you for everything
you have suffered from the spit, the slaps and the insults, and for all the
times you let yourself be trampled by your enemies.
I ask forgiveness in everyone's name, for all the times creatures dared
to offend you. For these slaps and for this spit, I pray that your divinity
may be recognized, praised and glorified by everyone. Indeed, O my Jesus,
I intend to go around the whole world myself, from east to west and from north
to south, to unite the voices of all creatures and change them into as many
more acts of praise, love and adoration. O my Jesus, I even intend to bring
the heart of all creatures to you, so that you may infuse into everyone light,
truth, love and compassion for your divine person. And while you will forgive
everyone, I pray you not to permit anyone to offend you again, even at the
cost of my blood, if this were possible.
Finally, I intend to offer you everything you have suffered in your most
holy face, to give you all the glory that creatures would have given you if
no one had dared to offend you. I adore your most holy mouth, and I thank
you for your first little whimperings, for all the milk you nursed, for all
the words you said, for the burning kisses you gave your most holy mother,
for the food you ate, for the bitterness of the gall, for the burning thirst
you suffered on the cross and for the prayers you raised to the Father. I
ask you to forgive all the murmurings, the evil and worldly conversations
and all the blasphemies uttered by creatures. I want to offer You your holy
teachings in reparation for their bad conversations. I want to offer You the
mortification of your sense of taste in reparation for their acts of gluttony,
your absorption into prayer in reparation for our scattered and inattentive
ones. Furthermore, I want to join our mouth to yours, in reparation for all
the ways that they offend You with the misuse of their tongues. I intend
to offer you everything you have suffered in your most holy mouth, to give
you all the glory that creatures would have given you if no one had dared
to offend you with his sense of taste and with the abuse of his tongue.
O Jesus, I adore your neck and thank you for the admirable patience with
which you allowed yourself to be tied up, for the perfect detachment from
all created things that you teach us. I ask forgiveness for the offenses you
receive from those creatures who are attached to the pleasures of this world,
and I beg you to implore for everyone detachment from earthly things and
a perfect uniformity with your Will.
I offer your most pure Conception in reparation for those who conceive in
guilt; I offer your imprisonment in your Mother’s womb for those who do care
for the strictness of your Will; I offer your life for those who allow their
children to be dead to Grace instead of giving them new life through holy
Baptism; and for all infanticides. I offer your childhood and everything you
suffered in childhood, for those who do not permit innocent children to know
You, praise You and love You, that all of them may indeed know You and love
You. I offer your hidden life in reparation for family discord, for the hypocrisy
of so many who though appearing to love You, interiorly offend You.
And I offer your life in the desert in reparation for the acts of disobedience
to the Church, for the contempt shown to fasting, to the precepts and the
Sacraments. I offer your public life in reparation should there be Priests
who do not fulfill their ministry with honest intentions, for the preaching
and the Sacraments given in a self-interested spirit, full of self-love and
self-esteem, and also in reparation for all the offenses that you receive
from government authorities. I offer your faithfulness to repair for our lack
of it, your perfect submission to your Father for our failure to correspond
to Grace, your thanks in reparation for all the times that we failed to thank
You for your innumerable benefits.
O Jesus, I thank you for everything; and in everyone's name, I raise up
to you the hymn of an eternal and infinite thanksgiving. O my Jesus, I intend
to offer you everything you have suffered in your most holy person, to give
you all the glory that all creatures would have given you if they had conformed
their life to yours. I thank you, O Jesus, for everything you have suffered
in your most holy back, for all the lashes received, for all the wounds you
permitted on your most sacred body, and for all the drops of blood you shed.
In everyone's name, I ask forgiveness for all the times they have offended
you with illicit and evil pleasures, and by the love of comfort.
I offer you your painful scourging to make reparation for all the sins committed
with all the senses, for the love of one's own tastes, sensible pleasures,
self-ego, and all the natural satisfactions. I also intend to offer you everything
you have suffered on your back, to give you all the glory that creatures would
have given you if in everything they had sought to please you alone and to
take refuge in the shadow of your divine protection. O Jesus, I kiss your
left foot. I thank you for all the steps you took during your mortal life,
and for all the times you tired your poor members to go in search of souls
to bring to your heart. O my Jesus, for this, I offer you all my actions,
steps and movements, with the intention of making reparation to you for everything
and for everyone. O my Jesus, I offer You all my steps, actions, and movements
in reparation for everything and for everyone.
I ask you to forgive those who do not act with the right intention. I join
my actions to yours, to divinize them. United to all the works you did with
your most holy humanity, I offer them to you to give you all the glory creatures
would have given you if they had worked in a holy way and with the right intention.
O my Jesus, I kiss your right foot, and I thank you for everything you have
suffered and do continue to suffer for me, especially in this hour in which
you are hanging on the cross. I thank you for the agonizing work that the
nails are doing in your wounds, which are torn ever more under the weight
of your most sacred body. I ask you to forgive all the rebellions and disobediences
committed by creatures. I offer you the pains of your most holy feet in reparation
for these offenses, and to give you all the glory that creatures would have
given you if they had been subject to you in everything.
O my Jesus, I kiss your most holy left hand. I thank you for all that you
have suffered for me, and for all the times you have calmed the divine justice
by satisfying for everyone. I ask your forgiveness for whenever I failed to
offer myself to give You satisfaction and all the glory that the creatures
would have given You. I offer to You everything that You did in your mortal
life with the movements of this left hand.
I kiss your right hand, and I thank you for all the good you have done and
continue to do for everyone. In a special way, I thank you for the works of
creation, redemption and sanctification. In everyone's name, I ask you to
forgive us all the times we were ungrateful for everything you have given
us, and for so many works we did without the right intention. In reparation
for all these offenses, and to give you all the glory that creatures would
have given you if they had corresponded to all these benefits, I intend to
offer you all the perfection and holiness of your works.
O my Jesus, I kiss your Most Sacred Heart, and I thank you for everything
you have suffered, desired and zealously done for the love of everyone and
for each in particular. I ask you to forgive so many evil desires and bad
affections and tendencies. O Jesus, forgive so many who prefer the love of
creatures to your love. To give you all the glory that they have denied you,
I offer you everything that your most adorable heart has done and continues
to do.
Reflections and Practices.
Jesus is lifted on the Cross and remains suspended above the earth. And
do we try to live detached from the world, from creatures, and from everything
that is worldly? Everything should converge to form the Cross on which we
extend ourselves and remain suspended, like Jesus, distancing ourselves from
everything that belongs to earth so that others will not become attached to
us. And so we shall take Jesus’ place; and if the creatures want to give us
nails and torments, we shall enclose them in our hearts and will have them
accept part of our cross. Should circumstances, convenience, or the permission
of the Divine Will place us almost in contact with the false taste of earthly
things, we must reject them all. As long as we do not enjoy them, we shall
not come down from the Cross, but will remain on guard so that our heart
may partake only and always of the Cross of Jesus. My suffering Jesus has
no bed except the Cross and no comfort except his Wounds and the insults He
receives. Is our love for Jesus so strong that we find our rest in sufferings?
Praying, suffering, and everything we do should be enclosed in Jesus’ Wounds
to feel their touch, and immersed in his Blood, seeking no other comfort except
his pain. And if creatures comfort us, we must take it as a comfort given
to us by the Lord, not by a creature, so that our heart may always be a stranger
to everything, though still grateful to those who comfort us in a holy way.
Then Jesus’ Wounds will be ours and his Blood will be continually at work
in us to adorn us. Accordingly, we will draw whatever graces we desire for
ourselves as well as for the salvation of souls.
Having the deposit of Jesus’ Blood in our hearts, if we are guilty of some
shortcoming, we will beg Jesus that He not permit us to be stained in his
presence, but cleanse us with his Blood and keep us with Him. Were we to feel
weak, we would then implore Jesus to let our souls have a sip of his Blood
to regain our strength. This adorable Blood shall be like a continuous current
between Jesus and ourselves, leading us to always agree with Him.
My sweet Jesus prays for his executioners; indeed, He even excuses them.
Do we make Jesus’ prayer our own to continually excuse sinners before the
Father and implore mercy on their behalf, even for those who have offended
us? While we pray, work, and walk, we should also not forget the poor souls
who are about to take their last breath. Let us bring them Jesus’ prayers
and kisses for help and comfort. With our hands, let us support their souls
and place them in the arms of Jesus.
Let us be with them in our heart, talking about the love with which Jesus
awaits them in the Heavenly Fatherland. In brief, we shall be like a smile
in the midst of their bitterness, and will endeavor to make them fly to Jesus.
We shall tell Jesus: “My lovable Jesus, I send you the fruit of your Blood
and of your love. Do not reject these souls, but for love of Yourself do receive
them all in the Heavenly Fatherland. ”
My Jesus, from your Wounds I wish to draw strength to repeat your own Life
in me. In this manner, I will be able to pray and obtain for everyone the
good that You Yourself have done.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
21st HOUR
From 1 p.m. to 2 p.m.
Second Hour of Agony on the Cross.
Second, third and fourth word.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
The second word:
« Today you will be with me in paradise! »
My crucified love, while I am praying with you, the enrapturing force of
your love and of your pains keeps my gaze fixed on you; but my heart breaks
to see you suffer so. You suffer agonies of love and of pain, and the flames
that burn your heart rise up so high that they are in the act of reducing
you to ashes. Your love contained is stronger than death itself; and wanting
to pour it out, you look at the thief on your right and snatch him from hell.
You touch his heart with your grace, and that thief is completely changed.
He recognizes you and acknowledges you as God; and thoroughly repentant, he
says:
“Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
You do not hesitate to answer:
“Today you will be with me in paradise.”
With this, you make the first triumph of your love. But I see that, in your
love, it is not only the heart of the thief you steal, but also that of many
of the dying. Yes, you put your blood, your love and your merits at their
disposal. You use all the divine strategies and devices to touch their hearts
and to rob them all for you. But even here your love meets with resistance.
How many refusals, how much distrust, how much despair! The pain is so intense
that it reduces you to silence again. O my Jesus, I intend to make reparation
for those who despair of the divine mercy at the moment of death. My sweet
love, inspire in everyone unlimited trust and confidence in you, especially
in those who find themselves in the distress of their agony. And in virtue
of your agony, give them light, strength and help to be able to die a holy
death, and take flight from this earth to heaven. Your most holy body, your
blood, your wounds you contain all souls, O Jesus. So, by the merits of this
most precious blood, do not let even one soul be lost. May your blood, together
with your voice, cry out again to everyone:
“Today you will be with me in paradise!”
The third word:
To Mary Most Holy: « Woman, here is your son ».
And to John: « Here is your mother ».
My crucified, tormented Jesus, your pains increase ever more. Yes, on this
cross, you are the true king of sorrows. In the midst of so many pains no
soul escapes you. Indeed, you give your very life to each. But your love sees
that it is opposed, despised and ignored by creatures. Unable to vent itself,
it becomes more intense, giving you unspeakable torments. In these torments,
it goes about looking for something else to give man to conquer him; and
it makes you say:
“See, O soul, how much I have loved you! If you don't want to have pity
on yourself, have pity, at least, on my love!”
Meanwhile, seeing that you have nothing more to give him, having given him
everything, you turn your fading gaze to your mother. She too is more than
dying, for your pains. The love that tortures her is so intense that it crucifies
her as much as you. Mother and Son understand each other. You give a sigh
of satisfaction, and are comforted to see that you can give your mother to
the creature. Considering the whole human race in John, with a voice so tender
as to melt all hearts, you say:
“Woman, here is your son.”
And to John: “Here is your mother.”
Your voice descends into her maternal heart, and united to the voices of
your blood, continues to say:
“My mother, I entrust all my children to you. Let all the love you feel
for me be for them. Let all your maternal cares and tenderness be for my
children. You will save them all for me.”
Your mother accepts. Meanwhile, the pains are so severe that they reduce
you to silence again. O my Jesus, I intend to make reparation for the offenses
committed against the Blessed Virgin Mary, for the blasphemies and the ingratitude
of so many who do not want to recognize the benefits you have given to everyone
by giving her to us as our mother. How can we thank you for such an immense
benefit? O Jesus, we turn to your own source, and offer you your blood, your
wounds and the infinite love of your heart.
O Blessed Mother, how moved you are to hear the voice of good Jesus who
leaves you to all of us as our mother! We thank you, O Blessed Virgin. And
to thank you as you deserve, we offer you the same thanks that Jesus gave
you. O sweet mother, you be our mother. Take care of us and never permit
us to offend you even in the least. Always keep us close to Jesus. With your
own hands bind us totally, completely to him, in such a way that we can never
slip away from him. With your own intentions, I intend to make reparation
for everyone, for the offenses committed against your Jesus and against you,
my sweet mother.
O my Jesus, while you are immersed in so many pains, you plead the cause
of the salvation of souls even more. For my part though, I will not remain
indifferent. Like a dove, I want to take flight to your wounds to kiss them
and soothe them; and I want to cast myself into your blood so that I can say
with you, Souls! Souls! I want to hold your pierced and sorrowful head to
make reparation to you, and to ask your mercy, love and forgiveness for everyone.
Reign in my mind, O my Jesus, and heal it in virtue of the thorns that pierce
your head, and never permit any agitation to enter me. Majestic forehead
of my Jesus, I kiss you. Draw all my thoughts to contemplate you and to understand
you. Gentle eyes of my good Jesus, though covered with blood, look at me.
Look at my misery, look at my weakness, look at my poor heart, and make me
feel the wonderful effects of your divine gaze.
Ears of my Jesus, though deafened by the insults and the blasphemies of
the impious, but also intent on listening to us, please hear my prayers and
do not despise my reparations. Yes, O Jesus, hear the cry of my heart. It
will calm down only when you will have filled it with our love. Beautiful
face of my Jesus, show yourself. Let me see you, so that I can detach my
poor heart from everyone and everything. May your beauty enchant me continually
and keep me always absorbed in you. Delightful mouth of my Jesus, speak to
me. Let your voice always echo in me. Let the power of your word destroy everything
in me that is not Will of God, everything that is not love.
O Jesus, I put my arms around your neck to embrace you; and you, extend
yours to embrace me. Yes, my good Jesus, make this embrace of love be so
close that no human force can separate us., even if You and I should want
to unbind each other: so may you and I remain forever embraced. Thus clasping
each other, I will rest my face upon your Heart. With confidence, I will
kiss your lips dripping with honey. Give me your kiss of Love. You will make
my breath one with your most sweet breath and infuse in me ever new and growing
love for You as I breathe your Love, your Will, your pains and your whole
Divine Life.
Most holy shoulders of my Jesus, always strong and constant in suffering
for love of me, give me strength, constancy and heroism to suffer for love
of him. O Jesus, do not permit me to be inconstant in love; on the contrary,
let me share in your immutability. Inflamed breast of my Jesus, give me your
flames. You cannot contain them any longer, and my heart anxiously seeks them
through this blood and these wounds. It is the flames of your love, O Jesus,
that torment you the most. O My good Jesus, share them with me. Doesn't a
soul so cold and so poor in your love move you to compassion?
Most holy hands of my Jesus, that created heaven and earth, you are now
motionless. O my Jesus, continue your creation, the creation of love. Create
new life, divine life in all my being. Pronounce your words over my poor
heart and transform it all into yours.
Most holy feet of my Jesus, never leave me alone! Make me always run with
you, and don't let me take a single step away from you. Jesus, with my love
and my reparations, I intend to ease the pains you suffer in your most holy
feet. O my crucified Jesus, I adore your most precious blood. I kiss your
wounds one by one, with the intention of lavishing on them all my love, my
adoration and the most heartfelt reparations. I want to cover them with my
love, adoration and most heartfelt reparation. I take these drops one by one,
I adore them, kiss them and give them to all souls as a pledge of their salvation.
For all souls, let your blood be light in darkness, comfort in pains, strength
in weakness, forgiveness in sin, help in temptations, defense in danger,
reassurance in death, and wings to carry them from this earth to heaven.
My Jesus, do You not also search for comfort and love to soothe your pains?
The Blood enclosed inside your Heart and not yet spilled gives you unspeakable
torment and agony. Unfortunately, O Jesus, it is love that makes you suffer.
O Jesus, I come to you, and I make my nest and my dwelling in your heart.
From within your heart, O my dear love, I will call everyone to you. And if
someone should want to come near to offend you, I will present myself and
will not let him wound you. What is more, I will enclose him in your heart,
speak to him of your love, and change the offenses into love. Jesus, never
let me go out of your heart. Nourish me with your flames, and give me life
with your life so I can love you as you yourself long to be loved.
The fourth word:
« My God, my God, why have you abandoned me? »
Suffering Jesus, while pressed to your heart and abandoned in you, as I
number your pains I see that a convulsive tremor comes over your most holy
humanity. Your members are struggling as if they were going to separate from
each other. In the midst of the contortions for the atrocious spasms, you
cry out:
“My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”
At this cry, everyone trembles, the darkness becomes thicker, and your petrified
mother turns pale and faints. My life, my all, my Jesus: What do I see? Oh,
you are close to death. The pains themselves, so faithful to you, are about
to leave you. Meanwhile, after so much suffering, you see with immense sorrow
that not all souls are incorporated into you. On the contrary, you perceive
that many will be lost, and you feel the painful separation of those that
separate themselves from your members. Having to satisfy the divine justice
for them as well, you feel the death of each one and the pains they will suffer
in hell. So, you cry out to all hearts:
“Do not abandon me! If you want more pains, I am ready, but do not separate
from my humanity. This is the pain of pains. This is the death of deaths.
All the rest would be nothing for me, if I did not suffer your separation
from me. Please, have pity on my blood, on my wounds, on my death! This cry
will continually ring in your hearts: Please do not abandon me!”
My love, how I suffer together with you! You are gasping, your sacred head
now falls to your chest, life is abandoning you. My love, I feel myself dying.
I too want to cry out with you, “Souls! Souls!”
I will never separate from this cross or from these wounds, so I can ask
for souls for you. If you please, I will enter into the hearts of creatures
and surround them with your pains so that they may not escape from you. If
it were possible, I would like to put myself before the gates of hell, to
make the souls that are headed there retreat, and to bring them to your heart.
You are agonizing in silence, and I am weeping over your imminent death. O
my Jesus, I sympathize with you. Pressing your heart close to mine, I kiss
it and I look at it with all the tenderness of which I am able. And to give
you a greater comfort, I make the divine tenderness mine. With this, I intend
to sympathize with you, and change my heart into rivers of sweetness, to pour
it into yours to sweeten the bitterness you suffer for the loss of souls.
Unfortunately, O my Jesus, this cry of your is painful. More than the abandonment
of the Father, it is the loss of the souls that separate from you, which makes
this sorrowful lament escape from your heart. O my Jesus, increase grace
in everyone, so that no one will be lost. And let my reparation be applied
to those souls that would be lost so that they will not.
O my Jesus, I also pray you by this extreme abandonment, to give help to
so many loving souls, which, in order to have them as companions in your abandonment,
it seems you deprive them of yourself, leaving them in darkness. May their
pains, O Jesus, be like prayers that call souls close to you, and that comfort
you in your sorrow.
Reflections and Practices.
Jesus forgives the thief with so much Love that He promptly takes him to
Paradise. Do we always pray for the many dying souls in need of prayer, to
close the gates of Hell and open for them the gates of Heaven? Jesus’ pains
on the Cross increase, yet, forgetting Himself, He always prays for us. He
leaves nothing for Himself but gives everything to us, even his Most Holy
Mother, the most precious gift of his Heart. Do I forgive everything, remembering
only what Jesus wants from me? Do I give everything to Him, or do I hold something
back, albeit holy, for myself? In all that I do —prayers, acts and so forth—
do I always make the intention of absorbing new love within myself, so that
I, in turn, can give everything back to Him?
We must absorb love to give love so that everything we do may bear the imprint
of Jesus’ work, for Jesus gave everything for the love of all; we must totally
forget about ourselves and have as our only goal to constantly lead all souls
to the Heart of Jesus. Do we use the fervor, light, and love that the Lord
gives us for the good of others? Do we try to enclose souls in this light
and fervor to solicit Jesus’ Heart so that He converts them, or do we egotistically
keep his graces to ourselves?
My Jesus, may every small spark of love I feel in my heart grow into a consuming
flame that burns the hearts of all creatures, and as it burns them I enclose
them in your Heart, that I may see even more souls enclosed there.
How do I respond to the great gift that Jesus gave me in giving me his Mother?
Do I stand by his sweet Mother, taking into myself Jesus’ Love, his tenderness,
and all that He did to please his Mother? Can I say that my divine Mother
finds in me the contentment She found in Jesus? That is, do I stand between
Jesus and his Mother, now lifting one up, now pleasing the other, so that
in looking at me Jesus may find a replacement for Himself as Son? Am I always
close to Her as a faithful child, obeying Her and imitating her virtues? Do
I try in every way possible to remain within her motherly gaze so that She
can always keep me pressed close to Jesus? In everything I do, do I call on
my heavenly Mother to watch over me, to help me act in a holy manner, as
her true child, and under her compassionate care? To content Her as her Son
did, do I enter into Jesus and take all the Love that He gave his Most Holy
Mother, for the glory that He constantly gave Her, and for all the tenderness
and delicacy of his Love? Do I make these qualities my own, saying to the
Heavenly Mother, “I have Jesus in me to make You happy—and to let You find
in me what You found in Him; I give You everything. What is more, beautiful
Mother, I too wish to give Jesus all the joy that He found in You. So, I want
to enter your Heart and take all your Love, all your joys, and all your maternal
tenderness and concern to give them all to Jesus and tell Him: “See, I have
in me everything that your Mother did for you, and I want to give it to you,
that you may find in me all the contentment of a second mother.”
Jesus, Mother, let us be bound together always, let us all exchange our
love with each other. In this way I shall always be a true daughter to you,
and a true mother to Jesus, always doing his Will. Mother, may your motherly
hands be the sweet chains that keep me bound to You and Jesus.
Jesus does not spare Himself in anything. By loving us with inexhaustible
Love, He desires to save everyone and, if possible, He would like to uproot
all souls from Hell, even if He had to take on all their pains. But despite
all his love, He sees souls that want to tear themselves out of his arms.
No longer able to contain his sorrow, He cries out, My God, my God, why have
You abandoned Me? Can I say that my love toward souls is like the love of
Jesus? Can I say that my prayers, my pains, and all my smallest acts are united
to the prayers, pains and acts of Jesus, to snatch souls from Hell—so that,
as they detach themselves from Jesus, with my small acts I bind them to Him
thus saving his Divine Heart from at least one death? How do I comfort Jesus
in the immense sorrow He endures? If I were to offer up my life to be consumed
as a continual holocaust, it would still not be enough to commiserate with
Him in this sorrow. I want to do more than commiserate with Him. I want to
save Jesus from suffering. And to that end, I will stand between Him and each
sinner, taking upon myself the suffering that sinners give to his Divine Heart,
and the rage of Divine Justice to which the Son of God offered Himself when
He took our sins upon Himself. And I shall bind the sinner to Jesus, that
Jesus may be set free and the sinner saved.
Every small act, pain, and thought that I experience while united to Jesus
can serve to rescue souls from falling into Hell. United to Jesus, I will
hold his very power in my own hands. But, if my acts are not united to Him,
they will not even prevent one soul from going to Hell.
My Love and my all, keep me pressed close to your Heart so that I may immediately
feel just how much sorrow the sinner causes You when he turns away from You.
In this way, I will immediately be able to do my part.
My Jesus, may your Love bind my heart so that—consumed by your fire—it may
feel the Love that You nurture for souls. And when I experience sorrow, pain,
and affliction, may You then, O Jesus, unleash your Justice upon me and find
the satisfaction You so desire—but allow the sinner, O Jesus, to be saved.
May my pain be the chain that binds sinners to You, and may my soul receive
the seal that Justice has been satisfied.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
22nd HOUR
From 2 p.m. to 3 p.m.
Third Hour of Agony on the Cross.
Fifth, sixth and seventh word.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
The fifth word:
« I am thirsty! »
My crucified, dying Jesus, embracing the cross, I feel the fire that is
burning all your most holy person. Your heart pounds so violently that it
heaves your ribs, tormenting you in such an agonizing and horrible way that
all your most holy humanity undergoes a transformation which makes you unrecognizable.
The love with which your heart is ablaze parches and burns you. Unable to
contain it, you feel the intense torment not only of the physical thirst for
the shedding of all your blood, but much more, that of the burning thirst
for the health of our souls. You would like to drink us as water to bring
us all to safety in yourself. So, gathering your faded strength, you cry:
“I am thirsty!”
Yes, you repeat these words to every heart:
“I am thirsty for your will, for your affections, for your desires, for
your love. You could not give me any water cooler and more refreshing than
your soul. Please, don't make me burn. I am burning with thirst, for which
I not only feel my tongue and my throat burning—such that I can no longer
utter a word—but I also feel my heart and my organs drying up. Have pity
on my thirst! Have pity!” Delirious, as it were, for the immense thirst,
you abandon yourself to the Will of the Father.
No, my heart cannot go on living like this: I see the wickedness of your
enemies, who, instead of water, give you gall and vinegar—which you do not
refuse. Yes, I understand: It is the gall of so many sins; it is the vinegar
of our untamed passions that they want to give you, which, instead of relieving
you, make you burn even more.
O my Jesus, here are my heart, my thoughts, my affections. Here is my whole
being, for you to quench your thirst and to refresh your dry and embittered
mouth. All that I am and all that I have is for you, O my Jesus. If my pains
are necessary in order to save even a single soul, here I am. I am ready to
suffer everything. I offer myself entirely to you, to do with me as you please.
I intend to make reparation for the pain you suffer for all the souls that
are lost, and for the pain those souls give you, that, while you permit them
sadness and abandonment, instead of offering them to you in relief of the
burning thirst that devours you, they lose heart and so make you suffer more.
The sixth word:
« It is consummated! ».
My dying Jesus, the unending ocean of your pains, the fire that consumes
you, and more than all this, the Supreme Will of the Father that wants you
to die, no longer permit us to hope that you can continue to live. How will
I be able to live without you? Your strength is already gone, your eyes are
glazed, your face is transformed and veiled with deathly paleness. Your mouth
is half-open, and your breath is labored and interrupted, such that there
is no longer any hope that you can revive. To the fire that burns you, there
follows a chill and a cold sweat that wets your forehead. The muscles and
the nerves contract ever more for the harshness of the pains and for the transfixion
of the nails, while the wounds tear still more. I tremble, and feel myself
dying. O my good Jesus, I look at you and see the last tears trickling from
your eyes as the forerunners of your approaching death, while with great
effort you say still another word:
“It is consummated!”
O my Jesus, you have now exhausted everything. You have nothing left. Love
has reached its end.
And what about me: Am I entirely consumed for your love? How grateful I
must be to you! O my Jesus, I intend to make reparation for everyone. I intend
to make reparation for the lack of correspondence to your love, and to console
you for the affronts you receive from creatures while you are consuming yourself
for love of us on the cross.
The seventh word:
« Father, into your hands I commend my spirit! »
My crucified, dying Jesus, you are about to breathe the last breath of your
mortal life. Your most holy humanity is already rigid, and it seems your heart
is no longer beating; if I hear a heartbeat, it is so faint that I am not
sure You are dead, and I cry and rant. Could my Life really have died? With
Mary Magdalene, I embrace your feet; and if it were possible, I would like
to give my life to animate yours. Meanwhile, O Jesus, I see you open your
dying eyes again, and look around the cross as if you wanted to say your
last goodby to everyone. You look at your dying mother who is motionless
and speechless for the pains she feels, and say:
“Good-by, mother. I am leaving, but I will keep you in my heart. Take care
of my children and yours.”
You look at weeping Mary Magdalene and faithful John, and say to them with
your gaze: “Good-bye”. You look at your very enemies with love, saying to
them with your gaze: “I forgive you; I give you the kiss of peace.” Nothing
escapes your gaze. You forgive everyone and say good-by to all. Then, gathering
all your strength, with a powerful and resonant voice you cry:
“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit!”
And bowing your head, you die...
My Jesus, at this cry all nature is upset and weeps over your death—the
death of its Creator. The earth quakes violently and with its tremor seems
to be weeping, wanting to shake souls to make them recognize you as true
God. The veil of the Temple is torn; the dead rise; and the sun, which, until
now has wept over your pains, is horrified and withdraws its light. At this
cry, your enemies fall on their knees, beat their breast, and declare: “Truly
he is the Son of God!” Your petrified and dying mother suffers pains harder
than death. My dead Jesus, with this cry you put all of us as well into the
hands of the Father so that he won't reject us. So, you not only cry out with
your voice, but with all your pains and with the voices of your blood as
well:
“Father, into your hands I place my spirit and all souls.”
My Jesus, I too abandon myself in you. Give me the grace to die completely,
in your love and in your Will. I pray you never to permit me, neither in life
nor in death, to go out of your Most Holy Will. Meanwhile, I intend to make
reparation for all those who do not abandon themselves perfectly to your
Most Holy Will, thus losing or diminishing the precious fruit of your redemption.
What sorrow your heart feels, O my Jesus, to see so many creatures escape
from your arms and become disheartened! O my Jesus, in these last moments,
call all souls around You, press them to your Heart, while I come out of
It and go over your wounds with my last kisses, asking your forgiveness once
more, and promising to always love You here on earth, and never to offend
You again.
My Jesus, I kiss your Head crowned with thorns. I ask your pardon for my
so many thoughts of pride, ambition and self-esteem. I promise You that every
time a thought comes to me that is not all for You, my Jesus—and I find myself
on the verge of offending You— I will cry immediately: “Jesus and Mary, I
commend my soul to You!”
O Jesus, I kiss your beautiful eyes still bathed in tears and covered with
clotted blood. I ask you to forgive me all the times I have offended you with
evil and immodest gazes. I promise that whenever my eyes are brought to look
at things of the earth, I will cry immediately, “Jesus and Mary, I commend
my soul to you!”
O my Jesus, I kiss your most sacred ears, deafened right to the last moments
by insults and horrible blasphemies. I ask forgiveness for all the times I
have listened to, or have made others listen to, conversations that draw us
away from you, and for so many evil conversations spoken by creatures. I
promise that every time I find myself in the occasion of hearing unnecessary
conversations, I will cry immediately, “Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul
to you!”
O my Jesus, I kiss your most holy face, pale, bruised and covered with blood.
I ask you to forgive the countless scoffings, affront and insults you receive
from us, such vile creatures, with our sins. I promise that every time I am
tempted not to give all glory, love and adoration to you, I will cry immediately,
“Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!”
O my Jesus, I kiss your most sacred mouth, parched and embittered. You have
already breathed your last breath, and as I approach You, I see your mouth
all parched and embittered. I ask forgiveness for all the times I have offended
you with evil conversations, adding to your bitterness and increasing your
thirst. I promise that whenever the thought comes to me to say things that
could offend you, I will cry immediately, “Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul
to you!”
O my Jesus, I kiss your most holy neck. I still see the marks of the chains
and the ropes that oppressed you. I ask your forgiveness for so many bonds
and so many attachments of creatures, which added ropes and chains to your
most sacred neck. I promise that whenever I feel troubled by attachments,
desires or affections that are not for you, I will cry immediately, “Jesus
and Mary, I commend my soul to you!”
My Jesus, I kiss your most holy back. As you lay nailed to the Cross, I
can easily see the how they mangled your most holy Body! How deep are your
wounds and how they hurt, made worse as they are by the cold! I ask you pardon
for so many illicit satisfactions and for so many sins committed with all
five senses of our body. I promise that every time the thought comes to me
to take some pleasure or satisfaction which is not for your glory, I will
cry immediately, “Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!”
My Jesus, I kiss your most holy chest. I ask you pardon for so many illicit
satisfactions and for so many sins committed with all five senses of our body.
I promise that every time the thought comes to me to take some pleasure or
satisfaction which is not for your glory, I will cry immediately, “Jesus and
Mary, I commend my soul to you!”
My Jesus, I kiss your most holy chest. I ask you to forgive so much cold-heartedness,
indifference, lukewarmness and horrible ingratitude which you receive from
creatures. I promise that whenever I feel myself growing cold in your love
I will cry immediately, “Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!”
My Jesus, I kiss your most sacred hands. They contain all of our works,
and you with your holy Works expiate ours with your most bitter and suffering
sorrows. I ask you forgiveness for all the evil and indifferent works, and
for so many acts ruined by selflove or self-esteem. I promise that whenever
the thought come to me not to work only for your love, I will cry immediately,
“Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!”
O my Jesus, I kiss your most holy feet. I ask you pardon for so many steps
and for so many ways trodden without the right intention, and for so many
who go away from you, in search of the pleasures of the earth. I promise that
whenever the thought comes to me to go away from you, I will cry immediately,
“Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!”
O Jesus, I kiss your most Sacred Heart and as I do so, I enclose myself
in It. These are the final instants of your mortal life, and you would like
to gather all souls in your hand and take them with You. But, Jesus mine,
as I enclose myself within your Heart, I take first place in It, and together
with your Love, your suffering and your Will, I intend to enclose in It all
the souls that You have redeemed, so that everyone may be saved, excluding
none.
O Jesus, nothing is denied in one’s last moments. As you are about to draw
your last breath, I ask you the grace to allow me to die with You, or at least
to grant me your Heart as my chamber, your Blood as my drink, all of You
as my food—otherwise how could I live without You? O Jesus, enclose me in
your Heart and close the doors for me so that I may see nothing but You. I
promise You that every time I am tempted to leave your Sacred Heart, I will
immediately cry out, “Jesus and Mary, I give You my heart and my soul!”
Reflections and Practices.
Jesus is consumed with thirst. His tongue is parched, as if so great a thirst
had changed it into a tongue of fire. And can I say that I am consumed with
love for Jesus? Do I have a burning thirst for Jesus? Do my thoughts and affections
always seek to refresh Him in his ardent thirst? Or do I thirst for material
things?
Many times the will asks souls, but at that point their desires turn elsewhere,
even toward good things—but things that appeal to their own self-interest.
As these are not in harmony with the will, the will remains alone. And, not
being able to harmonize with the desires and affections, it cannot weave a
web of influences around Jesus in such a way as to oblige Him to pledge and
concede what the will desires. And when this web is not complete, it is impossible
for souls to face the Divine Justice. To be able to complete this web of
influences perfectly, above all I will place myself in Jesus Christ, and
then I will multiply myself in each drop of his Blood, in each one of his
pains and prayers, so that Justice may find its complete support. Then I
will pour myself into all creatures, touching their drops of blood with drops
of the Blood of Jesus, the sores in their souls with the sores of Jesus,
to heal them. I will touch their sorrows with those of Jesus, that they may
draw comfort. I will multiply myself in each and every offense, offering
an act of reparation for each one of them.
With Jesus’ voices I will cry into every heart, that I may bring all of
them to Him, and weaving myself into Jesus, and into all creatures, my cordon
will be complete. I will place it around Jesus, that his Divine Justice may
find complete fulfillment and satisfaction. And, daringly, I will disarm his
Justice, and I will ask his Justice for souls, and He will not be able to
deny them to me, because all Justice is satisfied in Jesus. The Lord wants
all souls to be saved, but also wants the claims of Justice to be secure.
When Justice finds satisfaction in souls, it gives up its claims and saves
souls. Thus, the fire grows only when there is complete agreement in our interior;
our steadfastness in being good nourishes the fire and makes us bold with
that Divine Heart, imploring what He himself wants.
O, thirst of souls! Can I say that you are my predominant passion? And if
you are not, it means that I am not entirely united to you. My agonizing Jesus,
pour your thirst into me, that I may become a tongue of fire like You. Jesus
thirsts, and, unable to endure the thirst that consumes Him, He says, All
is consummated. Then Jesus is completely consumed for us. Do I make every
effort in all that I do to be continuously consumed for love of Jesus? Or
do I let something seep into me that could frustrate the consummation between
myself and Jesus? Every thought, word, and deed of Jesus brought Him to his
consummation. Does my every thought, word, and deed work together to prod
me to consume myself for love of Jesus? In Jesus, everything was boundless:
the glances, the words, the suffering. And as in Jesus, so in us also everything
should be boundless in our love for Him.
Each additional act that my Jesus did was a consummation that He offered
to his Father, and then gave to us. Can we say that each one of our acts is
an act of consummation on behalf of Jesus? We want to send our sufferings
flying over the Cross of Jesus, to keep company with his sufferings, and that
He may share his fire with us. And while our sufferings keep Jesus company
and are crucified with Him, we shall say to Him: “Jesus, I want to repeat
your acts, I want my sufferings to increase in value through your very own
sufferings, and I want them to fulfill the same duty that you discharged on
the Cross toward your Father and toward all souls.”
Jesus will be so happy that He will transform his pain into ours, will give
us the same effects, and in a sort of sweet enchantment will pull our heart
close to His, and find relief for his pains in ours, so that, as I suffer,
I hasten to send my sufferings on the Cross to Jesus. And may He, in turn,
enraptured by my suffering, find succor in them. Often, when we must attend
to material chores that are supposedly necessary, such as work, rest, or taking
food, it seems as if the consummation that Jesus still requires of us is
interrupted. To remedy this, I shall say to Him: “See, O Jesus, while I am
attending to these human chores, I protest because I want to go about them
joined to yours, be consumed just as You are consumed, thus forming between
You and me so many binding links. May the breath of your consummation blow
into my being, and consume both of us. And while I am busy I place my being
upon your burning flames that rise, and if they see that I am interrupting
the consummation between You and me, may these flames burn and consume me
together with You.”
When pain takes hold of us, when we are mortified or sad, or, especially,
when it seems that life would flee from us—it is especially in these junctures
that we must join our consummation to that of Jesus Christ. But do we do it?
Or do we divert God’s desires away from us? When we suffer, we must think
that Jesus is giving us suffering to form his consummation inside of us. Because
he wants to give us his form, and because He is good, He kindly places sorrows
in our heart. And as our soul receives them, we must think that good Jesus
is consuming all of his being to make Himself live again in us. Thus Jesus
destroys our material being, to form his image in us. In the suffering that
burdens us, we take the same divine consummation and make it ours; we offer
it to Him until nothing of ours is left: none of our thoughts, turmoil, anxiety,
or disorders—for when the soul keeps these anxious vigils, it prevents a
true consummation, forming as it were, a split flame. Every pain is a flame
that destroys, and in consuming our being it makes divine life be reborn in
us.
O Jesus, my sweet life, may your expended breath always breathe in my poor
heart so that I may receive the imprint of your consummation.
On the Cross, Jesus accomplishes the Will of the Father in everything and,
with a perfect act of abandonment into his most holy Will, He takes his last
breath. Do I accomplish the Will of God in everything? Am I perfectly abandoned
to his Will, accomplishing it in his very arms, as if I wanted to make Jesus’
Will and the Father’s Will my own? Do I let myself go irrespective of whether
something good or bad happens to me? Do I remain content with the mere assurance
that I am abandoned into his most holy arms? Do I continuously die to myself
for love of Jesus? Can I say that while living that I no longer live, that
I am dead to everything for the sake of living solely for the interest of
Jesus and not for my own? In other words, do the things I think, desire, love,
and do remind me of living for Jesus, so that in Him I may put to death my
words, my steps, my desires, and my thoughts?
O my Jesus, may my death be a continuous death for your love, and may every
death I undergo be a life that I long to give to every soul.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
23rd HOUR
rom 3 p.m. to 4 p.m.
Dead Jesus is transfixed by the lance
and taken down from the cross.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
.
My dead Jesus, all of nature lets out a cry of anguish and—recognizing You
as its Creator—weeps over your sorrowful death. Thousands upon thousands of
angels hover around the Cross to mourn your death. They adore You as true
God and accompany You to Limbo, where You go to beatify the countless souls
who have been lying in that dark dungeon since the dawn of the ages.
My dead Jesus, I do not know how to separate myself from the Cross. Nor
do I tire of continuously kissing your most sacred wounds which speak so
eloquently of your love for me. As I look at your frightful gashes and see
one by one the bones exposed by your deep wounds—I feel myself dying. I would
like to weep over these wounds until I wash them with my tears. I would like
to love You so much that my love would be like a precious ointment to heal
You completely and restore the natural beauty of your disfigured Humanity.
I would like to empty my veins to fill your empty veins with my blood and
restore You to life.
My Life, my Jesus, is there anything that Love cannot do? Love is life—and,
with my love, I want to give You life. And if my love does not suffice, give
me your Love—and with your Love I will be able to do everything. Yes, I will
be able to give life to your Most Holy Humanity. I cry and fly into a frenzy,
mourning the death of my crucified Jesus.
But while I cry for my Jesus, my heart leaps in my chest and goes into fits
of joy as I see that—even after death—You, my gentle Jesus, want to express
and confirm your love for me, providing me with a shelter and a refuge into
your very Heart. For this reason, then—moved by a supreme force to prove your
death—a soldier pierces your Heart with a lance, opening a deep wound. And
You, my Love, pour out the last drops of Blood and water that your enflamed
Heart contains. Ah, how many things this wound—opened by your love, not by
pain!—tells me. If your lips are silent, your Heart speaks to me, and I hear
It say:
“My child, after I had given everything, I wanted this lance to open in
my Heart a refuge for all souls. Once opened, my Heart will cry out continuously
to everyone, “Come to Me if you wish to be saved. In this Heart you will find
sanctity. It will make you holy and you will find comfort in hardships, strength
in weakness, peace in doubts, and companionship in abandonment.”
Then your voice becomes stronger, saying: O souls who love Me, if you really
wish to love Me, come to dwell always in this Heart. Here you will find true
Love with which to love Me. Here you will find ardent flames to burn and consume
you completely in my Love. The tiniest exits from this Heart shall deprive
you of many graces and make you unlike me. Everything is centered in this
Heart. Here you will find the Sacraments, my Church, and the life of the
Church and of all souls. In my Heart, I even feel the desecrations that are
done to my Church. I sense the plots of her enemies, the arrows they launch
at her, the sufferings of my oppressed children and the blood that they will
shed—because there is no offense that this Heart of mine does not feel. So,
my child, live your life in this Heart, shelter yourself behind its doors
and defend Me, make reparation to Me, and bring everyone to Me.
My Love, if a lance has wounded your Heart for me, with your hands I also
beg You to wound my heart, my affections, my desires, and my whole being.
May nothing remain in me that is not wounded by your Love. I unite everything
to the excruciating agony of our dear Mother, who—because of the agony she
feels on seeing your Heart torn open—collapses from love and sorrow. Like
a dove, She flies into your Heart to take the first place—to be the first
Reparatrix—and You establish her as the Queen of your very Heart, and the
Mediatrix between You and creatures. I fly with my Mother into your Heart
to hear how She makes reparation and how She repeats her reparations for the
offenses that You receive. By the power of this wound and of your sorrowful
Mother, I beg You to enclose everyone in your most beloved Heart—to protect,
defend and enlighten the rulers of your Church.
O my Jesus, after your agonizing and most sorrowful death, it seems just
that I should no longer have a life of my own. Rather, I will find my life
once more in your wounded Heart—so that, whatever I do, I will always depend
on your divine Heart. No longer will I give life to my thoughts—but if they
should want Life, I will take it from Yours. My will shall no longer have
life—but if it wants Life, I will take it from your Most Holy Will. And my
love will no longer have life—but if it wants Life, I will take It from your
Love.
O my Jesus, your whole Life is mine! This is your Will—and this is my will
also. My dead Jesus, I see that they hasten to remove You from the Cross.
Your disciples John and Nicodemus who were in hiding, now come forward courageously
and fearlessly to give You an honorable burial. They use hammers and pliers
to complete the sad, sacred removal of your Body from the Cross—a scene too
sorrowful for your Mother’s pierced Heart! At each blow of the hammer and
at each sound of the pliers pulling the nails, She trembles and her pierced
Heart shudders. And, moaning, She says, “My Son, My Son!…,” and She holds
out her motherly arms to receive You in her lap. My Jesus, as they remove
the nails, I also want to help hold your Most Holy Body. I want to take the
nails that they remove from You, and fix them in my heart as a constant reminder
of your most bitter Passion. I want to be nailed completely to You with the
same nails that crucified You. And while I am helping to place You in the
lap of your Holy Mother, I want to hug Her and support Her.
And, with your Holy Mother, I want to adore You, to kiss You, and then to
enclose myself in your Heart, never to leave.
Reflections and Practices.
With the lancing of His side, Jesus is removed from the cross. It seems
that humiliations ceased and victories began for Jesus after He died. But
is my life such that, even after I am dead, it could be a call for souls
and a spur that could lead them toward the good? In order to commit myself
more to loving Jesus, in all my words and actions, in all the sorrows I might
endure, I will believe that my word will continue to live in others to glorify
the Lord, that He may be understood and loved even more. If my works will
be a call spurring the works of other creatures and directing them to Jesus,
if my steps will push their steps toward Jesus, if my pains will be the patience
of all the creatures, ensuring that they all follow the will of Jesus, then,
once I am in Heaven, everything I did on earth shall continue to live amongst
the creatures. Therefore, the love I had on earth for Jesus, and my love for
Him when I am in Heaven, shall join together. O would that all this love,
powerful as a magnet, could transport everyone to Heaven!
After his death, Jesus wanted to be pierced with a lance for Love of us.
And do I permit Jesus’ Love to wound me in all that I do, or do I allow myself
to be wounded by the love of creatures, pleasures, and my own self-love? Even
coldness, darkness, and internal and external mortifications are wounds that
the Lord gives to souls. But if we do not accept them as coming from God’s
hands, we accept them from the hands of creatures and they wound us or we
wound ourselves. And our wounds and those of creatures are our passions, our
weaknesses, our self-exaltation—in a word, matter. However, if we accept them
as wounds inflicted by loving Jesus, He will place in these wounds his Love,
his virtues, and his likeness, which will then earn for us his kisses, his
tender caresses, and all the counsels of Divine Love. These wounds will act
as continuous voices to call Him and to require Him to dwell with us constantly.
We shall say to Him: “You wounded me, now heal me.”
O, my Jesus, may your lance be the guard that defends me from all the wounds
of creatures.
Jesus lets Himself be removed from the Cross, and placed in the arms of
his Mother. If my Jesus deprives me of his presence, of his sensible grace,
do I find shelter in the lap of our sweet Mother, begging Her to reveal Jesus
to me? Do I place in my Mother’s hands all my fears, doubts and longings?
Jesus rested on the lap of his divine Mother. Do I allow Jesus to rest in
my lap or do I disturb his rest with my fears and unrest?
My Mother, with your sweet motherly hands remove everything from my heart
that could keep Jesus from resting in me.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
24th HOUR
From 4 p.m. to 5 p.m.
The Burial of Jesus.
Most Holy and Desolate Mary.
Preparation before each hour
O my Lord Jesus Christ, prostrate in your divine presence, I implore your
most loving Heart to admit me to the sorrowful meditation of the 24 hours
in which for love of us You wanted to suffer so much, in your adorable body
and in your most holy soul, unto death on the Cross. O please, give me help,
grace, love, deep compassion and understanding of your sufferings, as I now
meditate the __ Hour. And for those which I cannot meditate, I offer You my
will to meditate them, and I willingly intend to meditate them in all the
hours in which I have to apply myself to my duties, or sleep. Accept, O merciful
Lord, my loving intention, and let it be beneficial for me and for all, as
if I effectively and in a saintly way accomplished what I wish to practice.
Meanwhile, I give You thanks, O my Jesus, for calling me to union with You
by means of prayer. And to please You more, I take your thoughts, your tongue,
your Heart, and with this I intend to pray, fusing all of myself in your
Will and in your love; and stretching out my arms to hug You, I place my
head on your Heart, and I begin.
My Jesus, You are taken down from the Cross, and your sorrowful Mother is
the first to receive You in her lap. Your pierced Head rests gently in her
arms. O sweet Mother, do not refuse my company. United with You, let me do
my last duty to my loving Jesus. My sweetest Mother, it is true that you surpass
me in love and gentleness in touching my Jesus, but I will try to imitate
You as best I can—to delight adorable Jesus in all that I do. That is why
I want to join my hands with your most holy hands to remove all the thorns
that crown his Sacred Head—and to unite your profound adoration to my own.
Heavenly Mother, your hands make ready to clean the clotted blood from Jesus’
eyes—those darkened and lifeless eyes that used to give light to the whole
world.
O Mother, I unite myself with You. Let us kiss them together! see the ears
of my Jesus, covered in Blood, bruised by blows and pierced with thorns. O
Mother, let us adore those ears that no longer hear. Let us adore those ears
that have suffered so much, inviting countless deaf and stubborn souls with
the call of grace. O sweet Mother, I see your tearful and sorrowful eyes
as You gaze at the mournful Face of Jesus.
I unite my sorrow to yours. Let us remove the mud and spittle which have
nearly disfigured Him. Let us adore that Face which enamored Heaven and earth
with its Divine Majesty—and which now gives no sign of life. O sweet Mother,
let us kiss his mouth. Let us kiss that divine mouth which used the gentleness
of his words to draw so many souls to his Heart.
O Mother, I want to take your very own mouth, to kiss his bruised and bloodied
lips—and to adore them profoundly. O my sweet Mother, Jesus’ Body has become
one great wound. I want to kiss it with You again and again. want to join
my hands with Yours to put back the pieces of flesh that hang from his Body,
as we adore them profoundly.
O Mother, let us kiss those creative hands that have worked so many prodigies
for us—those pierced and twisted hands now cold and rigid in death. O sweet
Mother, let us enclose the destinies of all souls in these most holy wounds.
When He rises from the dead, Jesus will find all the souls You have placed
here—and none will be lost. O Mother, let us adore these wounds with all souls—and
in the name of all souls. O heavenly Mother, You draw near to Jesus’ poor
feet to kiss them. How many torn wounds there are! The piercing nails have
torn away part of the flesh and the skin—and the weight of his most Sacred
Body has ripped them cruelly. Let us kiss these wounds and adore them profoundly.
Let us enclose all the steps of sinners in the wounds of his feet. As they
walk, may they feel Jesus’ steps close behind them—and may they no longer
dare to offend Him! O Mother, I see you fix your gaze on sweet Jesus’ open
Heart. I beg You to bury and enclose me in his Heart. What shall we do inside
this Heart? You will teach me, O mournful Mother, you will bury me inside
It, you will cover It with the stone and seal me inside and here, where I
place my heart and my life, I shall hide for all eternity.
O Mother, give me your Love that I may love Jesus! Give me your sorrow to
plead for everyone—and to atone for every sin against his Heart! O Mother,
as You bury Jesus with your own hands, remember that I, too, want to be buried
with Him—so that, after having been buried with Jesus, I may rise with Him
and all that is His. May it be like this!
And now a word for You, O most loving Mother. I deeply pity You. If it were
possible, with all the strength of my poor heart I would gather your heartbeats,
your desires, and the lives of all creatures—and I would lay them before You
as an act of compassion and love. I suffer with You in your extreme sorrow
at seeing Jesus die, crowned with thorns, and torn by the whips and by the
nails. I suffer with You upon seeing those eyes that no longer look at You;
those ears that no longer hear your voice; and that mouth that no longer speaks
to You.
I pity You in your sorrow upon seeing those hands that no longer embrace
You; and those feet that no longer follow You. If it were possible, I would
like to offer You the very Heart of Jesus overflowing with Love—to console
You as You deserve and to ease your most bitter pains.
Reflections and Practices.
Jesus is buried. A rock secures Him and prevents his Mother from gazing
upon her Son any longer. Am I like one who is dead inside the Heart of Jesus?
Can I say that my heart is like a tomb that keeps me hidden from the eyes
of creatures, and that I am indifferent, seeing that everyone has forgotten
me? Once buried, no one glances at Jesus any more: a stone hides Him, and
He can no longer gaze at his Mother; nor can She gaze at her Son; and though
They are both holy, They can no longer gaze at each other. Now in holy things,
do I remain indifferent, with that holy detachment that does not allow me
to be disobedient in anything?
And though I may feel different affections, until it seems that Jesus has
completely abandoned me, do I conquer everything with a holy detachment that
continually draws me to Him? Can I say that yesterday is like today, and that
though I may be rejected, still, with my constancy, I form a sweet chain that
draws Him to me so that, should I want to form a thought, I will take the
life of my thinking from the thoughts of Jesus? Are my glances immersed in
Jesus’ glances in such a way that I only receive the glances that Jesus wants
to give me, and I only look at what Jesus looks at? Is my voice immersed in
Jesus’ voice in such a way that should I desire to speak, I would not do
so unless I did it with Jesus’ tongue?
Are my steps immersed in His in such a way that as I walk I do not leave
the impressions of my own footprints, but those of Jesus? Is my heart immersed
in His so that I am able to love and desire as his Heart Loves and desires?
my Jesus, just as your life flows in the midst of ours and constantly spurs
us to love You and imitate You, so may my life do for others.
If Jesus is hidden, can I say that my sorrow is similar to the sorrow of
the most Holy Mother, and that while I suffer I am bound more tightly to his
Heart?
My Mother, when Jesus hides Himself from me for the good of my soul, grant
me the grace that You had when You were deprived of Him, so that I may give
Him all the glory that You gave Him when He was buried in the Sepulcher.
As I take your thought in order to think, do give me the thoughts from your
Mind, thus allowing my thoughts to share in your power and to do the good
that your Mind did. Jesus, as I look with your glances, do give me the power
and the tenderness of your divine glances, thus allowing me to penetrate the
hearts of all creatures. In this way I will honor You: it will be as if your
glances, looking inside me and inside all souls, attracted all souls to You
in the same way that You deigned to attract my soul.
O Jesus, I pray, but with your voice. And just as your voice pierced the
Heavens and resounded in the voices of all, so may the voices of all creatures
resound in my voice, to give honor to your voice, piercing the Heavens to
give glory and love to your word.
My Jesus, my heart is beating; yet I am not happy unless You let my heart
beat with Yours—for with your heartbeat I will love as You Love. I will give
You the love of all creatures, and a singular cry will ring out: “Love, Love!”
It will satisfy the love of the Father and of all creatures, beseeching all
creatures to convert. Therefore, O my Jesus, give honor to Yourself! On everything
I do, imprint the seal of your power, your Love, and your glory.
Most holy and desolate Mary leaves the Holy Sepulcher.
My sorrowful Mother, I see You prepare Yourself for your last sacrifice—having
to bury your dead Son, Jesus. Resigned to the Will of Heaven, You accompany
Him. With your own hands, You place Him in the sepulcher. While You arrange
his limbs, You try to bid Him farewell and give Him a last kiss; but You feel
your Heart wrenched from your breast for pain. Love nails you to those members.
And by force of love and sorrow, your life is on the verge of being snuffed
out, together with that of your lifeless Son.
Poor mother, what will you do without Jesus? He is your life, your all.
Still, it is the Will of the Eternal One that wants it like this. You will
have to struggle with two insurmountable powers: love, and the Divine Will.
Love nails you in such a way that you cannot make the separation; the Divine
Will imposes itself and wants the sacrifice...
Poor mother, how will you do it? How I sympathize with you! Please, angels
of heaven, come and raise her from the rigid members of Jesus, otherwise she
will die. Oh, what a miracle: while she seems to have died together with Jesus,
I hear her voice, trembling and interrupted by sobs, which says:
“Son, beloved Son, this was the only comfort left to me, and it halved my
pains: To unburden myself over these wounds of your most holy humanity, to
adore them and kiss them. Now, even this is taken from me because this is
what the Divine Will wants—and I resign myself to it. But know, O Son, that
I want to do it but cannot. At the mere thought of doing it, my strength fades
and life flees me. . . . O Son, please: In order to receive the strength and
the life I need to make the bitter separation, permit me to leave my whole
being buried in you and to take for myself your life, your pains, your reparations
and all that you are. Yes, only an exchange of life between you and me can
give me the strength to carry out the sacrifice of separating myself from
you.”
My suffering mother, I see that with determination you again pass over those
members. Resting your head on that of Jesus, you kiss it and enclose your
thoughts in Jesus' head. You take for yourself his thorns, his afflicted and
offended thoughts, and all that he has suffered in his most holy head.
Oh, how you would like to give life to Jesus' intelligence with yours, in
order to give life for life! You already feel yourself coming to life again,
for having taken the thoughts and the thorns of Jesus into your mind. Sorrowful
mother, I see that you kiss Jesus' lifeless eyes. You are heart-broken to
see that Jesus no longer looks at you.
How many times those divine eyes, looking at you, enraptured you and make
you rise from death to life! Now, seeing that they no longer look at you,
you feel yourself die. So, I see that you put your eyes in those of Jesus;
and for yourself you take his eyes, his tears and the bitterness of his gaze
which suffered so much, seeing the offenses of creatures and all the insults
and their rejections of him. My transfixed mother, I see you kiss his most
holy ears. You call him time and again, and say:
“My Son, is it possible that you no longer hear me—you who answered my every
sigh, even the least? Now I weep and I call you— but you don't hear me? Yes:
dear love is the most cruel tyrant! You were for me more than my very life.
And now I will have to survive such pain! So, my Son, I leave my ears in yours,
and I take for myself what your most holy ears have suffered: the echo of
all the offense that resounded in yours. This alone can give me life: your
pains, your sorrows.”
As you are saying this, the sorrow and the pangs of your heart are so intense
that you become speechless and remain motionless. My poor mother, my poor
mother, how I sympathize with you! How many cruel deaths you suffer! Sorrowful
mother, the Divine Will imposes itself and gets you going. So you look at
his most holy face, kiss it, and exclaim:
“Adorable Son, how disfigured you are! Yes, if love didn't show me that
you are my Son, my life, my all, I wouldn't recognize you, for your unrecognizable
state. Your natural beauty has been transformed into deformity. Your rosy
cheeks have been changed into bruises. O beloved Son, your beautiful face
that radiated light and grace—for to see you and remain ecstatic was one and
the same thing—has been transformed into the pallor of death.
“Son, how you are reduced! What ugly work sin has done on your most holy
members! Oh, how your inseparable mother would like to return your original
beauty to you! I want to fuse my face in yours and take yours for me, as well
as the blows, the spit, the ridicule and all that you suffered in your most
holy face. Yes, Son, if you want me alive, give me your pains; otherwise I
will die.”
Your sorrow is so intense that it suffocates you and cuts off your words;
and you remain as if lifeless over Jesus' face.
Poor mother, how I sympathize with you! My angels, come to sustain my mother.
Her sorrow is immense. It is flooding her and suffocating her. She has no
life or strength left. But the Divine Will, tearing through these waves that
are drowning her, returns life to her. Now you have come to his mouth. As
you kiss it, you feel your lips embittered by the bitterness of the gall that
so embittered Jesus' mouth. Sobbing, you continue:
“My Son, say one last word to your mother. Is it possible that I won't hear
your voice any more? All your words you said to me in life, like so many arrows,
strike my heart with sorrow and love. And now, seeing you silent, these arrows
begin to move in my lacerated heart, giving me innumerable deaths; and it
seems as though they want to steal one last word from you by force. But not
receiving it, they torture me, and say to me: 'Well, you will not listen
to him any more. You will no longer hear his sweet voice, the melody of his
creative word which created as many paradises in you for as many words as
he said.' Ah, my Paradise is finished, and I will have nothing but bitternesses!
Yes, Son, I want to give you my tongue to give life to yours. Yes, give me
everything you suffered in your most holy mouth: the bitterness of the gall,
your burning thirst, your reparations and prayers. Then, by hearing your voice
in the things you suffered, my sorrow will be more bearable, and your mother
will be able to live by means of your pains.”
Tortured mother, I see that you hurry now, because those around you want
to close the sepulcher. So you quickly pass over Jesus' hands, taking them
in yours and kissing them. You press them to your heart; and putting your
hands in his, you take the pains and the wounds of those most holy hands for
yourself. Then, passing over Jesus' feet and looking at the cruel tears that
the nails made in them, while you put yours in his and take those wounds for
yourself, you offer yourself in Jesus' place to run after sinners and snatch
them from hell. Grieved mother, now I see that you are saying your last good-by
to Jesus' pierced heart. Here you stop. This is the last assault your maternal
heart receives. You now feel it being torn from your breast by the intensity
of love and of sorrow. And by itself it escapes and puts itself in the Most
Sacred Heart of Jesus.
Seeing yourself without a heart, you hurry to take Jesus' Most Sacred Heart
to yourself, as well as his love rejected by so many creatures, all his ardent
desires frustrated by their ingratitude, and the sorrows and transfixions
of that Most Sacred Heart which will have you crucified during your whole
life. Looking at the gaping wound, you kiss it and lick the blood. And feeling
Jesus' life in you, you feel the strength to make the bitter separation. So,
you embrace him and permit the stone of the sepulcher to enclose him. My
sorrowful mother, as I weep I pray you not to let Jesus be taken from our
gaze for now. First, let me enclose myself in Jesus to take his life into
me. If you, the immaculate one, the holy one, the full of grace, cannot live
without Jesus, much less can I, who am weakness, misery, sinfulness itself.
How could I live without Jesus?
Please, sorrowful mother, don't leave me alone. Take me with you. But first,
put my whole being into Jesus. Empty me of everything to be able to put all
Jesus into me, as you put him into yourself. Begin your maternal duty with
me which Jesus gave you from the cross. Let your maternal heart be moved by
my extreme poverty; and with your own maternal hands, enclose me totally,
completely in Jesus. Enclose Jesus' thoughts in my mind so that no other thought
will enter into me. Enclose Jesus' eyes in mine so that he may never escape
from my view. Put his ears in mine so that I may always listen to him and
fulfill his Most Holy Will in everything. Put his face in mine so that by
looking at that face so disfigured for love of me, I may love him, give him
compassion and make reparation to him. Put his tongue in mine so that I may
speak, pray and teach with Jesus' tongue. Put his hands in mine so that every
movement I make and every work I do may have life from Jesus' works and movements.
Put his feet in mine so that every step I take may be life, salvation, strength
and zeal for other creatures.
And now, my saddened mother, let me kiss his heart and lick his most precious
blood. As you enclose his heart in mine, grant me the grace to live by his
love, by his desires, by his pains. And now, take the rigid right hand of
Jesus so that he may give me his last blessing with it. Now you permit the
rock to enclose him. How agonizing it is for you! Weeping, you say your last
good-by to him; and kissing the sepulcher, you leave it. Your sorrow is so
immense that now you are petrified, now frozen. My transfixed mother, together
with you I say good-by to Jesus. And weeping, I want to sympathize with you
and keep you company in your bitter desolation. I want to remain by your side
to give you a word of comfort and a compassionate gaze for every sigh, pang
and sorrow of yours. I will gather up your tears; and if I see you fainting
I will hold you in my arms.
Now I see you are obliged to return to Jerusalem by that same path on which
you came. After just a few steps the cross already appears, on which Jesus
suffered so much and then died. You run to it and kiss it. Seeing it stained
with blood, the pains he suffered are on it are renewed in your heart one
by one. Unable to contain your sorrow, sobbing, you exclaim:
“O cross! How is it that you were so cruel to my Son? No, you didn't spare
him in anything! What wrong did he do to you? You didn't permit me, his sorrowful
mother, to give him even a sip of water when he asked for it; and to his parched
mouth you gave him gall and vinegar. I felt my transfixed heart liquefied,
and would have liked to offer my melted heart to those lips to quench his
thirst, but I received the sorrow of being rejected. Yes, O cross, you are
cruel, but holy, because you were divinized and sanctified by your contact
with my Son. Change that cruelty you used with him into compassion for miserable
mortals. And for the pains he suffered on you, plead grace and strength for
suffering souls, so that no one may be lost because of trials and crosses.
Souls cost me too much. They cost me the life of a Son-God. And as Co-redemptrix
and mother, I bind them to you, O cross.”
You kiss the cross over and over, and then continue on. Poor mother, how
I sympathize with you! At every step and encounter, new sorrows arise, which
become more immense and more bitter. They are overwhelming and submerging
you like waves, and so you feel death at every instant. A few steps more,
and you come to that point where this morning you met Jesus, exhausted and
streaming blood, under the enormous weight of the cross. He had a bunch of
thorns on his head, which, striking the cross, went deeper and deeper, giving
him mortal pains at every movement. Meeting your eyes, Jesus' eyes sought
pity; but to deprive you and Jesus of this relief, the soldiers pushed him
and made him fall, causing him to shed new blood.
And now, seeing the ground soaked with it, you prostrate yourself on the
ground and kiss that blood, saying:
“My angels, come and keep guard over this blood so that not a single drop
will be trampled on and profaned.”
Sorrowful mother, let me give you my hand to raise you up and comfort you,
because I see that you are agonizing in Jesus' blood. As you walk on, you
find new pains. You see traces of blood everywhere and recall his sufferings,
so you quicken your pace and enclose yourself in the cenacle. I too enclose
myself in the cenacle—the cenacle of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. From
within this heart I want to come upon your maternal knees to keep you company
in this hour of bitter desolation. I don't have the heart to leave you alone
in so much sorrow.
Desolate mother, look at this little child of yours. I am too little to
live by myself. Neither can I nor do I want to. So, take me on you knees,
clasp me in your arms and mother me, for I need guidance, help and support.
Look at my misery and shed a tear on my wounds. When you see me distracted,
press me to your maternal heart and call Jesus' life back into me.
But while I am praying to you, I am compelled to stop and turn my attention
to your bitter sorrows. I feel myself pierced, seeing that as you move your
head you feel the thorns which you have taken from Jesus sinking deeper. Together
with the thorns of all our sins of thought, they even prick your eyes, causing
you to weep tears mingled with blood. As you weep, having Jesus' vision in
your eyes, there pass before your sight all the offenses of creatures. Oh,
how embittered you are by them! How well you understand what Jesus suffered,
having his own pains in yourself! But one pain doesn't wait for the next.
As you listen intently, your ears are deafened by the echo of the voices of
creatures. Each kind of offensive voice of the creature, passing from your
ears and penetrating into your heart, pierces it; and you repeat your refrain:
“Son, how you have suffered!”
Desolate mother, how I sympathize with you! Let me wipe your face bathed
in tears and blood. But I fall back, seeing it all covered with bruises, unrecognizable
and pale with a deathly pallor. I understand: These are the ill-treatments
Jesus received, which you have taken for your own, that make you suffer so
much. Yes, as you move your lips to pray or to emit sighs from your inflamed
breast, you feel your breath embittered and your lips burned by Jesus' thirst.
My poor mother, how I sympathize with you! Your sorrows increase ever more,
and they seem to give a hand to each other. Taking your hands in mine, I see
them pierced by the nails. It is in these same hands that you feel the pain
of seeing the homicides, the betrayals, the sacrileges and all the evil works
which repeat the blows, enlarging the wounds and making them ever more painful.
How I sympathize with you! You are the true crucified mother, such that
not even your feet remain without nails. What is more, you not only feel
them nailed, but torn as well by so many evil steps, and by the souls that
are going toward hell. And you run after them so that they may not fall into
the infernal flames. But this is still not everything, O nailed mother. All
your pains, joining together, echo in your heart and pierce it not with seven
swords, but with thousands and thousands of swords—especially since you have
the divine heart of Jesus in you, which encloses all hearts and encompasses
the heartbeats of everyone in itself. And that divine heartbeat, as it beats,
says, Souls! Love! With the heartbeat, Souls, you feel all sins flowing in
your heartbeat, and you feel you are being given death. In the heartbeat,
Love, you feel life being given to you. And so you are in the continual alternation
of death and life.
Crucified mother, as I look at you I sympathize with you in your sorrows.
How inexpressible they are! I would like to change my being into tongue and
voice, to sympathize with you. But before so many pains my sympathies are
nothing. So, I call the angels and the Most Holy Trinity, praying them to
put their harmonies, contentments and beauty around you, to soothe you and
to sympathize with your intense sorrows. I pray them to sustain you in their
arms and to give you love in exchange for all your pains. And now, desolate
mother, I thank you in everyone's name for all that you have suffered. By
this bitter desolation, I pray you to come and assist me at the hour of my
death. When my poor soul will find itself alone and abandoned by everyone,
among a thousand anxieties and fears, come then to give me the company that
I gave you so many times in life. Come to assist me, be by my side and send
the enemy away. Wash my soul with your tears. Cover me with Jesus' blood and
dress me with his merits. Beautify me with your sorrows and all of Jesus'
pains and works. In virtue of his pains and your sorrows, make all sins disappear
from me, giving me forgiveness for them all. As I breathe my last breath,
receive me in your arms, put me under your mantle and hide me from the eyes
of the enemy. Take me away, in flight, to heaven and put me into Jesus' arms.
My dear mother, you agree to do this, don't you? And now, I pray you to
return the company I have given you today, to all those who are dying in
this moment. Mother them all. These are extreme moments and great helps are
needed, so don't deny your maternal offices to anyone.
One last word as I leave you: I pray you to enclose me in Jesus' Most Sacred
Heart. And you, O my sorrowful mother, be my sentinel so that Jesus may not
cast me out of his heart, and so that even if I should want to, I may not
leave it. Now I kiss your maternal hand and ask you to bless me.
Thanksgiving after each hour
My lovable Jesus, You have called me in this hour of your Passion to keep
You company, and I have come. I seemed to hear You praying, repairing and
suffering, in anguish and sorrow, pleading for the salvation of souls in the
most touching and eloquent voices. I tried to follow You in everything; and
now, having to leave You for my usual occupations, I feel the duty to say
to You, ‘Thank You’ and ‘I bless You.’ Yes, O Jesus, I repeat to You ‘Thank
You’ thousands and thousands of times, and ‘I bless You’ for all that You
have done and suffered for me and for all. I thank You and I bless You for
every drop of Blood You shed, for every breath, for every heartbeat, for
every step, word, glance, bitterness and offense which You endured. In everything,
O my Jesus, I intend to seal You with a ‘Thank You’ and an ‘I bless You.’
Please, O Jesus, let my whole being send You a continuous flow of thanks
and blessings, so as to draw upon me and upon everyone the flow of your blessings
and thanks. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy
hands seal every particle of my being with your ‘I bless you’, so that nothing
other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.
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