A Little Book of Eternal Wisdom [37]
to my soul. He was my heart's mirror, my soul's
comfort; heaven and earth, and all that is in them, I possessed in His sweet
presence. Lo, when I saw my love suspended in mortal agony before me, alas,
the sight! Alas, what a moment was that! How died my heart within me! How
was my courage extinguished! How did my strength fail me! I looked up, but I
could not help my child. I looked down, and saw only those who so cruelly
ill-used Him. O how narrow then to me was all this world! I had lost all
heart; my voice had died from me; I had, moreover, lost all strength and
yet, when I came to myself, I raised thy feeble voice, and spoke to my
Child, complaining, such words as these: Alas, my Child! Alas, thou Child of
mine! Alas, my heart's delightful mirror, in which I have so often taken
delight to behold myself, how do I now see Thee miserably suspended before
me! Alas, thou treasure above all this world! My mother, my father, and all
that my heart can express (such art Thou to me), take me with Thee! Or, to
whom wilt Thou leave Thy wretched mother? Oh, who will permit me to die for
Thee, to suffer for Thee this bitter death? Oh, misery and distress of a
love-torn mother, how am I robbed of all joy, of all love, of all
consolation! Oh, thou greedy death, why sparest thou me? Take, take away the
poor mother with her poor Child; to her, to live is bitterer than to die!
Him, even Him, whom my soul loveth, I see dying! And as I thus lifted up my
voice in lamentation, behold, my Child consoled me very affectionately, and,
among other things, said: That in no other way might mankind be redeemed,
and that on the third day He intended to rise again and appear to me and His
disciples; and He said further: Woman, cease thy weeping; weep no more, my
fair mother, I will not forsake thee for ever! And while my Child thus
tenderly consoled me, and commended me to the disciple whom He loved, and
who also stood by, full of sorrow (those words of His were conveyed to my
heart in a tone so lamentable, and so broken by sighs, that they pierced
through my heart and soul like a sharp sword), even the hard hearts of the
Jews were moved to compassion for me. I cast up my arms and my hands, and,
in the anguish of my heart, would gladly have embraced my beloved, yet this
I might not do. And then I sank down, overwhelmed by my heart-rending grief,
at the foot of the cross and became speechless; and when I returned to
myself, and could do nothing else, I kissed the blood that trickled down
from His wounds, so that my pale cheeks and mouth were all tinged with
blood.
The Servant.--Ah, Thou unfathomable goodness, what infinite torture,
what infinite misery is this! Whither shall I turn, or to whom shall I cast
my eyes? If I look up at the beautiful Wisdom, I only see woe and distress,
at which my heart is like to sink within me. They cry out and shout against
Him outwardly, the agony of death struggles with Him inwardly, all His veins
are on the rack, all His blood gushes away, it is nothing but ejaculations
of woe, and cheerless dying without recovery. Then, if I but turn my eyes to
His pure Mother, I see her tender heart pierced, alas! with wounds as though
a thousand blades had transfixed it. I see her pure soul lacerated by woe.
Never were such gestures of misery and longing seen as hers; deprived was
her sick body of all strength, her fair countenance besmeared with mortified
blood. Oh, great misery above all misery! The torture of His heart consists
in the affliction of His sorrowing Mother; the torture of His sorrowing
Mother consists in the innocent death of her beloved Son, more painful to
her than her own death. He beholds her and consoles her tenderly; she
stretches out her hands to Him, and would gladly die instead of Him. Alas!
which of the two feels here the most bitterly? Whose is the greater
distress? To both it is so unfathomable that there never was any equal to
it. Alas! the motherly heart. Alas! the tender womanly mind. How was thy
maternal heart ever able to support this infinite
comfort; heaven and earth, and all that is in them, I possessed in His sweet
presence. Lo, when I saw my love suspended in mortal agony before me, alas,
the sight! Alas, what a moment was that! How died my heart within me! How
was my courage extinguished! How did my strength fail me! I looked up, but I
could not help my child. I looked down, and saw only those who so cruelly
ill-used Him. O how narrow then to me was all this world! I had lost all
heart; my voice had died from me; I had, moreover, lost all strength and
yet, when I came to myself, I raised thy feeble voice, and spoke to my
Child, complaining, such words as these: Alas, my Child! Alas, thou Child of
mine! Alas, my heart's delightful mirror, in which I have so often taken
delight to behold myself, how do I now see Thee miserably suspended before
me! Alas, thou treasure above all this world! My mother, my father, and all
that my heart can express (such art Thou to me), take me with Thee! Or, to
whom wilt Thou leave Thy wretched mother? Oh, who will permit me to die for
Thee, to suffer for Thee this bitter death? Oh, misery and distress of a
love-torn mother, how am I robbed of all joy, of all love, of all
consolation! Oh, thou greedy death, why sparest thou me? Take, take away the
poor mother with her poor Child; to her, to live is bitterer than to die!
Him, even Him, whom my soul loveth, I see dying! And as I thus lifted up my
voice in lamentation, behold, my Child consoled me very affectionately, and,
among other things, said: That in no other way might mankind be redeemed,
and that on the third day He intended to rise again and appear to me and His
disciples; and He said further: Woman, cease thy weeping; weep no more, my
fair mother, I will not forsake thee for ever! And while my Child thus
tenderly consoled me, and commended me to the disciple whom He loved, and
who also stood by, full of sorrow (those words of His were conveyed to my
heart in a tone so lamentable, and so broken by sighs, that they pierced
through my heart and soul like a sharp sword), even the hard hearts of the
Jews were moved to compassion for me. I cast up my arms and my hands, and,
in the anguish of my heart, would gladly have embraced my beloved, yet this
I might not do. And then I sank down, overwhelmed by my heart-rending grief,
at the foot of the cross and became speechless; and when I returned to
myself, and could do nothing else, I kissed the blood that trickled down
from His wounds, so that my pale cheeks and mouth were all tinged with
blood.
The Servant.--Ah, Thou unfathomable goodness, what infinite torture,
what infinite misery is this! Whither shall I turn, or to whom shall I cast
my eyes? If I look up at the beautiful Wisdom, I only see woe and distress,
at which my heart is like to sink within me. They cry out and shout against
Him outwardly, the agony of death struggles with Him inwardly, all His veins
are on the rack, all His blood gushes away, it is nothing but ejaculations
of woe, and cheerless dying without recovery. Then, if I but turn my eyes to
His pure Mother, I see her tender heart pierced, alas! with wounds as though
a thousand blades had transfixed it. I see her pure soul lacerated by woe.
Never were such gestures of misery and longing seen as hers; deprived was
her sick body of all strength, her fair countenance besmeared with mortified
blood. Oh, great misery above all misery! The torture of His heart consists
in the affliction of His sorrowing Mother; the torture of His sorrowing
Mother consists in the innocent death of her beloved Son, more painful to
her than her own death. He beholds her and consoles her tenderly; she
stretches out her hands to Him, and would gladly die instead of Him. Alas!
which of the two feels here the most bitterly? Whose is the greater
distress? To both it is so unfathomable that there never was any equal to
it. Alas! the motherly heart. Alas! the tender womanly mind. How was thy
maternal heart ever able to support this infinite