Discourse of The Dolours Of Mary - St Alphonsus De Ligouri

« Prev
1
Next »

Fidelis
New Member

Posts: 52

Discourse of The Dolours Of Mary - St Alphonsus De Ligouri Sept 27, 2019 11:53:21 GMT via mobile

Post by Fidelis on Sept 27, 2019 11:53:21 GMT

On The Fifth Dolour

Of the Death of Jesus

We have now to witness a new kind of martyrdom—a Mother condemned to see an innocent Son, and one whom she loves with the whole affection of her soul, cruelly tormented and put to death before her own eyes: "There stood by the cross of Jesus His Mother." Saint John believed that in these words he had said enough of Mary's martyrdom. Consider her at the foot of the cross in the presence of her dying Son, and then see if there be sorrow like unto her sorrow. Let us remain for a while this day on Calvary, and consider the fifth sword which, in the death of Jesus, transfixed the heart of Mary. As soon as our agonized Redeemer had reached the Mount of Calvary, the executioners stripped Him of His clothes, and piercing His hands and feet "not with sharp but with blunt nails," as Saint Bernard says, to torment Him more, they fastened Him on the cross. Having crucified Him, they planted the cross, and thus left Him to die. The executioners left Him; but not so Mary. She then drew nearer to the cross, to be present at His death: "I did not leave Him" (thus the Blessed Virgin revealed to Saint Bridget), "but stood nearer to the cross." "But what did it avail thee, O Lady," says Saint Bonaventure, "to go to Calvary, and see this Son expire? Shame should have prevented thee; for His disgrace was thine, since thou wert His Mother. At least, horror of witnessing such a crime as the crucifixion of a God by His own creatures, should have prevented thee from going there." But the same Saint answers, "Ah, thy heart did not then think of its own sorrows, but of the sufferings and death of thy dear Son," and therefore thou wouldst thyself be present, at least to compassionate Him. "Ah, true Mother," says the Abbot William, "most loving Mother, whom not even the fear of death could separate from thy beloved Son." But, O God, what a cruel sight was it there to behold this Son in agony on the cross, and at its foot this Mother in agony, suffering all the torments endured by her Son! Listen to the words in which Mary revealed to Saint Bridget the sorrowful state in which she saw her dying Son on the cross: "My dear Jesus was breathless, exhausted, and in His last agony on the cross; His eyes were sunk, half-closed, and lifeless; His lips hanging, and His mouth open; His cheeks hollow and drawn in; His face elongated; His nose sharp; His countenance sad: His head had fallen on His breast, His hair was black with blood, His stomach collapsed, His arms and legs stiff, and His whole body covered with wounds and blood." All these sufferings of Jesus were also those of Mary: "Every torture inflicted on the body of Jesus," says Saint Jerome, "was a wound in the heart of the Mother." "Whoever then was present on the Mount of Calvary," says Saint John Chrysostom, "might see two altars, on which two great sacrifices were consummated; the one in the body of Jesus, the other in the heart of Mary." Nay, better still may we say with Saint Bonaventure, "there was but one altar-that of the cross of the Son, on which, together with this Divine Lamb, the victim, the Mother was also sacrificed;" therefore the Saint asks this Mother, "O Lady, where art thou? Near the cross? Nay, rather, thou art on the cross, crucified, sacrificing thyself with thy Son." Saint Augustine assures us of the same thing: "The cross and nails of the Son were also those of His Mother; with Christ crucified the Mother was also crucified." Yes; for, as Saint Bernard says, "Love inflicted on the heart of Mary the tortures caused by the nails in the body of Jesus." So much so that, as Saint Bernardine writes, "At the same time that the Son sacrificed His body, the Mother sacrificed her soul." Mothers ordinarily fly from the presence of their dying children; but when a mother is obliged to witness such a scene, she procures all possible relief for her child; she arranges his bed, that he may be more at east; she administers refreshments to him; and thus the poor mother soothes her own grief. Ah, most afflicted of all Mothers! O Mary, thou hast to witness the agony of the dying Jesus; but thou canst administer Him no relief. Mary heard her Son exclaim, "I thirst," but she could not even give Him a drop of water to refresh Him in that great thirst. She could only say, as Saint Vincent Ferrer remarks, "My Son, I have only the water of tears." She saw that on that bed of torture her Son, suspended by three nails, could find no repose; she would have clasped Him in her arms to give Him relief, or that at least He might there have expired; but she could not. "In vain," says Saint Bernard, "did she extend her arms; they sank back empty on her breast." She beheld that poor Son, who in His sea of grief sought consolation, as it was foretold by the prophet, but in vain: "I have trodden the winepress alone; I looked about, and there was none to help; I sought, and there was none to give aid." But who amongst men would console Him, since all were enemies? Even on the cross He was taunted and blasphemed on all sides: "and they that passed by, blasphemed Him, wagging their heads." Some said in His face, "If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross." Others, "He saved others, Himself He cannot save." Again, "If He be the King of Israel, let Him now come down from the cross." Our Blessed Lady herself said to St. Bridget, "I heard some say that my Son was a thief; others, that He was an impostor; others, that no one deserved death more than He did; and every word was a new sword of grief to my heart." But that which the most increased the sorrows which Mary endured through compassion for her Son, was hearing Him complain on the cross that even His Eternal Father had abandoned Him: "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" Words which the Divine Mother told the same Saint Bridget, could never, during her whole life, depart from her mind. So that the afflicted Mother saw her Jesus suffering on every side; she desired to comfort Him, but could not. And that which grieved her the most was to see that she herself, by her presence and sorrow, increased the sufferings of her Son. "The grief," says Saint Bernard, "which filled Mary's heart, as a torrent flowed into and embittered the heart of Jesus." "So much so," says the same Saint, "that Jesus on the cross suffered more from compassion for His Mother than from His own torments." He thus speaks in the name of our Blessed Lady: "I stood with my eyes fixed on Him, and His on me, and He grieved more for me than for Himself." And then, speaking of Mary beside her dying Son, he says, "that she lived dying without being able to die:" "Near the cross of Christ His Mother stood half-dead; she spoke not; dying she lived, and living she died; nor could she die, for death was her very life." Passino writes that Jesus Christ Himself one day, speaking to blessed Baptista Varani of Camerino, assured her that when on the cross, so great was His affliction at seeing His Mother at His feet in such bitter anguish, that compassion for her caused Him to die without consolation; so much so, that the blessed Baptista, being supernaturally enlightened as to the greatness of this suffering of Jesus, exclaimed, "O Lord, tell me no more of this Thy sorrow, for I can no longer bear it." "All," says Simon of Cassia, "who then saw this Mother silent, and not uttering a complaint in the midst of such great suffering, were filled with astonishment." But if Mary's lips were silent, her heart was not so, for she incessantly offered the life of her Son to the Divine Justice for our salvation. Therefore we know that by the merits of her dolours she cooperated in our birth to the life of grace; and hence we are the children of her sorrows. "Christ," says Lanspergius, "was pleased that she, the cooperatress in our redemption, and whom He had determined to give us for our Mother, should be there present; for it was at the foot of the cross that she was to bring us, her children, forth." If any consolation entered that sea of bitterness, the heart of Mary, the only one was this, that she knew that by her sorrows she was leading us to eternal salvation, as Jesus Himself revealed to Saint Bridget: "My Mother Mary, on account of her compassion and love, was made the Mother of all in heaven and on earth." And indeed these were the last words with which Jesus bid her farewell before His death: this was His last recommendation, leaving us to her for her children in the person of Saint John: "Woman, behold thy son." From that time Mary began to perform this good office of a Mother for us; for Saint Peter Damian attests, "that by the prayers of Mary, who stood between the cross of the good thief and that of her Son, the thief was converted and saved, and thereby she repaid a former service. For, as other authors also relate, this thief had been kind to Jesus and Mary on their journey to Egypt; and this same office the Blessed Virgin has ever continued, and still continues, to perform.

Example

A young man in Perugia promised the devil, that if he would enable him to attain a sinful object he had in view, he would give him his soul; and he gave him a written contract to this effect, signed in his own blood. When the crime had been committed, the devil demanded the performance of the promise; and for this purpose led him to the brink of a well, at the same time threatening, that if he did not throw himself in, he would drag him, body and soul, to hell. The wretched youth, thinking that it would be impossible to escape from his hands, got on the little parapet to cast himself in; but terrified at the idea of death, he told the devil that he had not courage to take the leap, but that if he was determined on his death, he must push him in. The young man wore a scapular of the Dolours of Mary; the devil therefore said, "Take off that scapular, and then I will push thee in." But the youth, discovering in the scapular the protection still vouchsafed to him by the Divine Mother, refused to do so, and at length, after much altercation, the devil, filled with confusion, departed; and the sinner, grateful to the sorrowful Mother, went to thank her, and, penitent for his sins, presented as a votive offering to her altar, in the church of Santa Maria la Nuova in Perugia, a picture of what had taken place.

Prayer

Ah, Mother the most sorrowful of all mothers, thy Son is, then, dead; that Son so amiable, and who loved thee so much! Weep, then, for thou hast reason to weep. Who can ever console thee? The thought alone, that Jesus by His death conquered hell, opened heaven until then closed to men, and gained so many souls, can console thee. From that throne of the cross He will reign in so many hearts, which, conquered by His love, will serve Him with love. Disdain not, in the meantime, O my Mother, to keep me near thee, to weep with thee, since I have so much reason to weep for the crimes by which I have offended Him. Ah, Mother of Mercy, I hope, first, through the death of my Redeemer, and then through thy sorrows, to obtain pardon and eternal salvation.

Fidelis
New Member

Posts: 52

Discourse of The Dolours Of Mary - St Alphonsus De Ligouri Sept 28, 2019 13:26:51 GMT via mobile

Post by Fidelis on Sept 28, 2019 13:26:51 GMT

On The Sixth Dolour

The Piercing of the Side of Jesus, and His descent from the Cross

"O, all ye that pass by the way, attend, and see if there be any sorrow like to my sorrow." Devout souls, listen to what the sorrowful Mary says this day: "My beloved children, I do not wish you to console me; no, for my soul is no longer susceptible of consolation in this world after the death of my dear Jesus. If you wish to please me, this is what I ask of you; behold me, and see if there ever has been in the world a grief like mine, in seeing Him who was all my love torn from me with such cruelty." But, my sovereign Lady, since thou wilt not be consoled, and hast so great a thirst for sufferings, I must tell thee that, even with the death of thy Son, thy sorrows have not ended. On this day thou wilt be wounded by another sword of sorrow, a cruel lance will pierce the side of thy Son already dead, and thou hast to receive Him in thine arms after He is taken down from the cross. And now we are to consider the Sixth Dolour which afflicted this poor Mother. Attend and weep. Hitherto the dolours of Mary tortured her one by one; on this day they are all, as it were, united to assail her. It is enough to tell a mother that her son is dead, to excite all her love. Some persons, that they may lessen a mother's grief, remind her of the displeasure at one time caused by her departed child. But I, my Queen, did I thus wish to lighten thy grief for the death of Jesus, of what displeasure that He ever caused thee could I remind thee? No, indeed. He always loved thee, always obeyed thee, and always respected thee. Now thou hast lost Him, who can ever tell thy grief? Do thou explain it, thou who hast experienced it. A devout author says, that when our beloved Redeemer was dead, the first care of the great Mother was to accompany in spirit the most holy soul of her Son, and present it to the Eternal Father. "I present Thee, O my God," Mary must then have said, "the Immaculate soul of Thine and my Son; He has now obeyed Thee unto death; do Thou, then, receive it in Thine arms. Thy justice is now satisfied, Thy will is accomplished; behold, the great sacrifice to Thy eternal glory is consummated." Then, turning towards the lifeless members of her Jesus, "O wounds," she said, "O wounds of love, I adore you, and in you do I rejoice; for by your means salvation is given to the world. You will remain open in the body of my Son, and be the refuge of those who have recourse to you. O, how many, through you, will receive the pardon of their sins, and by you be inflamed with love for the supreme good!" That the joy of the following Paschal Sabbath might not be disturbed, the Jews desired that the body of Jesus should be taken down from the cross; but as this could not be done unless the criminals were dead, men came with iron bars to break our Lord's legs, as they had already done those of the two thieves who were crucified with Him. Mary was still weeping over the death of her Son, when she saw these armed men advancing towards her Jesus. At this sight she first trembled with fear, and then exclaimed: "Ah, my Son is already dead; cease to outrage Him; torment me no more, who am His poor Mother." She implored them, writes Saint Bonaventure, "not to break His legs." But while she thus spoke, O God! She saw a soldier brandish a lance, and pierce the side of Jesus: "One of the soldiers with a spear opened His side, and immediately there came out blood and water." At the stroke of the spear the cross shook, and, as it was afterwards revealed to Saint Bridget, the heart of Jesus was divided in two. There came out blood and water; for only those few drops of blood remained, and even those our Saviour was pleased to shed, that we might understand that He had no more blood to give us. The injury of that stroke was inflicted on Jesus, but Mary suffered its pain. "Christ," says the devout Lanspergius, "shared this sound with His Mother; He received the insult, His Mother endured its agony." The holy fathers maintain that this was literally the sword foretold to the Blessed Virgin by Saint Simeon: a sword, not a material one, but one of grief, which transpierced her blessed soul in the heart of Jesus, where it always dwelt. Thus, amongst others, Saint Bernard says: "The lance which opened His side passed through the soul of the Blessed Virgin, which could never leave her Son's heart." The divine Mother herself revealed the same thing to Saint Bridget: "When the spear was drawn out, the point appeared red with blood: then, seeing the heart of my most dear Son pierced, it seemed to me as if my own heart was also pierced." An angel told the same Saint, "that such were the sufferings of Mary, that it was only by a miraculous interposition on the part of God, that she did not die." In her other dolours she at least had her Son to compassionate her; but now she has not even Him to pity her. The afflicted Mother, fearing that other injuries might still be inflicted on her Son, entreated Joseph of Arimathea to obtain the body of her Jesus from Pilate, that at least in death she might guard and protect it from further outrage. Joseph went, and represented to Pilate the grief and desires of this afflicted Mother. Saint Anselm believes that compassion for the Mother softened the heart of Pilate, and moved him to grant her the body of the Saviour. Jesus was then taken down from the cross. O most sacred Virgin, after thou hast given thy Son to the world, with so great love, for our salvation, behold the world now restores Him to thee; but, O God, in what state dost thou receive Him? O world, said Mary, how dost thou return Him to me? "My Son was white and ruddy;" but thou returnest Him to me blackened with bruises, and red-yes! But with the wounds which thou hast inflicted upon Him. He was all fair and beautiful; but now there is no more beauty in Him; He is all disfigured. His aspect enamoured all; now He excites horror in all who behold Him. "O, how many swords," says Saint Bonaventure, "pierced the poor Mother's soul" when she received the body of her Son from the cross! Let us only consider the anguish it would cause any mother to receive into her arms the body of her lifeless son. It was revealed to Saint Bridget, that three ladders were placed against the cross to take down the Sacred Body; the holy disciples first drew out the nails from the hands and feet, and, according to Metaphrastes, gave them to Mary. Then one supported the upper part of the body of Jesus, and the other the lower, and thus descended it from the cross. Bernardine de Bustis describes the afflicted Mother as standing, and extending her arms to meet her dear Son; she embraced Him, and then sat at the foot of the cross. His mouth was open, His eyes were dim; she then examined his mangled flesh and uncovered bones; she took off the crown, and saw the sad injuries which the thorns had inflicted on that sacred head; she saw the holes in His hands and feet, and thus addressed Him: "Ah, Son, to what has Thy love for men brought Thee; and what evil hadst Thou done them, that they should thus cruelly have tormented Thee? Thou wast my father" (continues Bernardine de Bustis, in Mary's name), "Thou wast my brother, my spouse, my delight, my glory; Thou wast my all." My Son, see my affliction, look at me, console me; but no, Thou no longer lookest at me. Speak, say but a word, and console me; but Thou speakest no more, for Thou art dead. Then, turning to those barbarous instruments of torture, she said, O cruel thorns, O cruel nails, O merciless spear, how, how could you thus torture your Creator? But why do I speak of thorns or nails? Alas! Sinners, she exclaimed, it is you who have thus cruelly treated my Son. Thus did Mary speak and complain of us. But what would she now say, were she still susceptible of suffering? What would be her grief to see that men, notwithstanding that her Son has died for them, still continue to torment and crucify Him by their sins! Let us, at least, cease to torment this afflicted Mother; and if we have hitherto grieved her by our sins, let us now do all that she desires. She says, "Return, ye transgressors, to the heart." Sinners, return to the woundered heart of my Jesus; return as penitents, and He will welcome you. "Flee from Him to Him," she continues to say with the Abbot Guarric; "from the Judge to the Redeemer, from the tribunal to the cross." Our Blessed Lady herself revealed to St. Bridget, that "she closed the eyes of her Son, when He was taken down from the cross, but she could not close His arms;" Jesus Christ giving us thereby to understand that He desired to remain with His arms extended to receive all penitent sinners who return to Him. "O world," continues Mary, "behold, then, thy time is the time of lovers." "Now that my Son has died to save thee, it is no longer for thee a time of fear, but one of love—a time to love Him, who to show thee the love He bore thee was pleased to suffer so much." "The heart of Jesus," says St. Bernard, "was wounded, that through the visible wound, the invisible wound of love might be seen." "If, then," concludes Mary, in the words of Blessed Raymond Jordano, "my Son by excess of love was pleased that His side should be opened, that He might give thee His heart, it is right, O may, that thou in return shouldst also give Him thine." And if you desire, O children of Mary, to find a place in the heart of Jesus, without fear of being rejected, "go" says Ubertino da Casale, "go with Mary; for she will obtain the grace for you." Of this you have a proof in the following beautiful example.

Example

The disciple relates, that there was a poor sinner who, among other crimes which he had committed, had killed his father and a brother, and therefore was a fugitive. One day in Lent, hearing a sermon on the Divine mercy, he went to confess his sins to the preacher himself. The confessor, on hearing the enormous crimes which he had committed, sent him to an altar of Mary in Sorrow, that she might obtain him contrition, and the pardon of his sins. The sinner obeyed, and began to pray; when, behold, he suddenly dropped down dead from excess of grief. On the following day, when the priest recommended the deceased to the prayers of the people, a white dove appeared in the church, and let a card drop at his feet. The priest took it up, and found the following words written upon it: "The soul of the deceased, on leaving his body, went straight to heaven. Continue thou to preach the infinite mercy of God."

Prayer

O afflicted Virgin! O soul great in virtue but great also in sorrow, for the one and the other took their rise in that immense love with which thy heart was inflamed towards God, for thou couldst love Him alone; ah, Mother, pity me, for instead of loving God I have greatly offended Him. Thy sorrows encourage me to hope for pardon. But this is not enough; I wish to love my Lord; and how can better obtain me this love than thou, who art the Mother of fair love? Ah, Mary, thou comfortest all; console me also. Amen

Fidelis
New Member

Posts: 52

Discourse of The Dolours Of Mary - St Alphonsus De Ligouri Sept 29, 2019 11:10:35 GMT via mobile

Post by Fidelis on Sept 29, 2019 11:10:35 GMT

On The Seventh Dolour

The Burial of Jesus

When a mother is by the side of her suffering and dying child, she undoubtedly feels and suffers all his pains; but after he is actually dead, when, before the body is carried to the grave, the afflicted mother must bid her child a last farewell; then, indeed, the thought that she is to see him no more is a grief which exceeds all other griefs. Behold the last sword of Mary's sorrow, which we have now to consider; for after witnessing the death of her Son on the cross, and embracing for a last time His lifeless body, this blessed Mother had to leave Him in the sepulchre, never more to enjoy His beloved presence on earth. That we may better understand this last dolour, we will return to Calvary and consider the afflicted Mother, who still holds the lifeless body of her Son clasped in her arms. O my Son, she seemed to say in the words of Job, my Son, "Thou art changed to be cruel towards me." Yes, for all Thy noble qualities, Thy beauty, grace, and virtues, Thy engaging manners, all the marks of special love which Thou hast bestowed upon me, the peculiar favours Thou hast granted me,—all are now changed into grief, and as so many arrows pierce my heart, and the more they have excited me to love Thee, so much the more cruelly do they now make me feel Thy loss. Ah, my own beloved Son, in losing Thee I have lost all. Thus does St. Bernard speak in her name: "O truly-begotten of God, Thou wast to me a father, a son, a spouse: Thou wast my very soul! Now I am deprived of my father, widowed of my spouse, a desolate, childless Mother; having lost my only Son, I have lost all." Thus was Mary, with her Son locked in her arms, absorbed in grief. The holy disciples, fearful that the poor Mother might die of grief, approached her to take the body of her Son from her arms, to bear it away for burial. This they did with gentle and respectful violence, and having embalmed it, they wrapped it in a linen cloth which was already prepared. On this cloth, which is still preserved at Turin, our Lord was pleased to leave to the world an impression of His sacred body. The disciples then bore Him to the tomb. To do this, they first of all raised the sacred body on their shoulders, and then the mournful train set forth; choirs of angels from heaven accompanied it; the holy women followed, and with them the afflicted Mother also followed her Son to the place of burial. When they had reached the appointed place, "O, how willingly would Mary have there buried herself alive with her Son, had such been His will!" for this she herself revealed to St. Bridget. But such not being the Divine will, there are many authors who say that she accompanied the sacred body of Jesus into the sepulchre, where, according to Baronius, the disciples also deposited the nails and the crown of thorns. In raising the stone to close up the entrance, the holy disciples of the Saviour had to approach our Blessed Lady, and say: Now, O Lady, we must close the sepulchre: forgive us, look once more at thy Son, and bid Him a last farewell. Then my beloved Son (for thus must the afflicted Mother have spoken); then I shall see Thee no more? Receive, therefore, on this last occasion that I behold Thee, receive my last farewell, the farewell of Thy dear Mother, and receive also my heart, which I leave buried with Thee. "The Blessed Virgin," writes St. Fulgentius, "would ardently have desired to have buried her soul with the body of Christ." And this Mary herself revealed to St. Bridget, saying: "I can truly say that at the burial of my Son one tomb contained as it were two hearts." Finally, the disciples raised the stone and closed up the holy sepulchre, and in it the body of Jesus, that great treasure-a treasure so great that neither earth nor heaven had a greater. Here I may be permitted to make a short digression, and remark that Mary's heart was buried with Jesus, because Jesus was all her treasure: "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." And where, may we ask, are our hearts buried? In creatures-perchance in mire. And why not in Jesus, who, although He has ascended to heaven, is still pleased to remain on earth, not dead indeed, but living in the most holy sacrament of the altar, precisely that our hearts may be with Him, and that He may possess them? But let us return to Mary. Before leaving the sepulchre, according to St. Bonaventure, she blessed the sacred stone which closed it, saying, "O happy stone, that doth now enclose that sacred body, which for nine months was contained in my womb; I bless thee and envy thee; I leave thee the guardian of my Son, of that Son who is all my treasure and all my love." Then raising her heart to the Eternal Father, she said, "O Father, to Thee do I recommend Him-Him who is Thy Son at the same time that He is mine." Thus bidding her last farewell to her beloved Jesus and to the sepulchre, she left it, and returned to her own house. "This Mother," says St. Bernard, "went away so afflicted and sad, that she moved many to tears in spite of themselves; and wherever she passed, all who met her wept," and could not restrain their tears. And he adds that the holy disciples and women who accompanied her "mourned even more for her than for their Lord." Saint Bonaventure says, that her sisters covered her with a mourning cloak: "The sisters of our Lady veiled her as a widow, almost covering her whole face." He also says that, passing, on her return, before the cross still wet with the blood of her Jesus, she was the first to adore it. "O holy cross," she then said, "I kiss thee, I adore thee; for thou art no longer an infamous gibbet, but a throne of love and an altar of mercy, consecrated by the blood of the Divine Lamb, which on thee has been sacrificed for the salvation of the world." She then left the cross, and returned home. When there, the afflicted Mother cast her eyes around, and no longer saw her Jesus; but, instead of the sweet presence of her dear Son, the remembrance of His beautiful life and cruel death presented itself before her eyes. She remembered how she had pressed that Son to her bosom in the crib of Bethlehem; the conversations she had held with Him during the many years they had dwelt in the house of Nazareth; she remembered their mutual affection, their loving looks, the words of eternal life which fell from those Divine lips; and then the sad scene which she had that day witnessed, again presented itself before her. The nails, the thorns, the lacerated flesh of her Son, those deep wounds, those uncovered bones, that open mouth, those dimmed eyes, all presented themselves before her. Ah, what a night of sorrow was that night for Mary! The afflicted Mother, turning to Saint John, mournfully said: "Ah, John, tell me where is thy Master?" She then asked the Magdalen: "Daughter, tell me, where is thy beloved? O God, who has taken Him from us?" Mary wept, and all who were present wept with her. And thou, my soul, weepest not! Ah, turn to Mary, and address her with Saint Bonaventure, saying: "O my own sweet Lady, let me weep; thou art innocent, I am guilty." Entreat her at last to let thee weep with her: "Grant that with thee I may weep." She weeps for love; do thou weep through sorrow for thy sins. Thus weeping, thou mayest have the happy lot of him of whom we read in the following example.

Example

Father Engelgrave relates that a certain religious was so tormented with scruples, that he was sometimes almost driven to despair; but as he had the greatest devotion to Mary in Sorrow, he always had recourse to her in his interior agonies, and felt himself consoled whilst meditating on her dolours. Death came, and the devil then tormented him more than ever with scruples, and tempted him to despair. When, behold, the compassionate Mother seeing her poor son in such anguish, appeared to him, saying: "And thou, my son, why art thou so overcome with sorrow? Why fearest thou so much? Thou who hast so often consoled me by pitying me in my sorrows. But now," she added, "Jesus sends me to console thee; be comforted, then; rejoice, and come with me to heaven." On hearing these consoling words, the devout religious, filled with joy and confidence, tranquilly expired.

Prayer

My afflicted Mother, I will not leave thee alone to weep; no, I will accompany thee with my tears. This grace I now ask of thee: obtain that I may always bear in mind and always have a tender devotion towards the Passion of Jesus and thy sorrows, that the remainder of my days may thus be spent in weeping over thy sufferings, my own sweet Mother, and those of my Redeemer. These sorrows, I trust, will give me the confidence and strength which I shall require at the hour of death, that I may not despair at the sight of the many sins by which I have offended my Lord. They must obtain me pardon, perseverance, and heaven, where I hope to rejoice with thee, and to sing the infinite mercies of my God for all eternity. Thus do I hope; thus may it be. Amen. Amen.