Gethsemani : meditations on the last day on earth of Our Blessed Redeemer

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

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GETHSEMANI.

MEDITATIONS ON THE LAST BAY ON EARTH

OCK BLESSED REDEEMER.

TEE RIGHT REV. MONSIGM T, S.^RESTON, V.G., LL.B,

r^

Domestic Prelate of His Holiness Leo XI 11.

NEW YORK :

robert coddington,

246 Fourth Avenue.

1887.

Copyright, 1887,
By ROBERT CODDINGTON.

f

WASHINGTON

H. J. HEWITT, PRINTER, 27 ROSE STREET, NEW VORK.

Dedication*

DEDICATED

MY DEAR CHILDREN IN RELIGION, LOVERS OF JEStJS,
AND SPOUSES OP THE HEAVENLY BRIDEGROOM,

AND

Go the Sacrefc Memory

OP THOSE WHO HAVE GONE BEFORE ME
TO THEIR REST IN HIS ARMS.

PREFACE.

This little book is a companion to
" The Watcli on Calvary," which was
published two years ago. It begins
with the scenes of the last day of Our
Lord's life, and follows Him to the
garden of Gethsemani, and thence to
Calvary. The two books of medita-
tion form a continuous story of the
Passion in all its leading particulars.
Utterly inadequate as human words
are to describe the fearful anguish of
our dearest Redeemer, the imperfect
attempt here made may, with the
blessing of God, assist some souls in
the study of the cross, which is the
science of saints. It may be my de-

4 PREFACE.

feet, but I cannot write of Our Lord's
sufferings in the ordinary style. I
have tried to place the lover of Jesus
in sight of the sorrows which he de-
scribes, and have given place to the
affections which the heart prompts. It
was a great consolation to me to know
that the " Watch on Calvary" was
appreciated by some souls who are
seeking to live in constant communion
with the Sacred Heart. And it was
really at the solicitation of some of
my children in religion that I under-
took the more difficult task of writing
meditations upon the inconceivable
agony of Jesus. Therefore to them I
dedicate the little work, and I rely
upon their prayers that our most com*
passionate Master may in mercy bless
this poor effort to His greater glory
and the sanctification of souls.

And I recall the sacred memory of
those who have gone before me to

PREFACE. 0

their celestial Spouse. Though they
are far from me in the presence of
the King, yet are they also near me
by prayer and mutual love of Him
who is indeed our All. They form a
part of my life, they will not forget
my needs, and they are my interces-
sors before the throne. We live not
in the presence of things seen, but in
the realization of things unseen and
eternal.

So in utter self-abasement, and simple
reliance upon God, I commend this
" Gethsemani " to the patient and mer-
ciful Heart of Jesus.

T. S. P.

Octave of the Epiphany, 1887.

CONTENTS.

MEDITATION FIRST.
The Garden op Gethsemani, .... . 11

MEDITATION SECOND.
The Agony op Fear, . 67

MEDITATION THIRD.
The Agony op Loneliness, . . . . . . . .91

MEDITATION FOURTH.
The Agony op Sadness, . 115

MEDITATION FIFTH.
The Agony op Pain, 141

MEDITATION SIXTH.
The Agony op a Wounded Heart, 165

MEDITATION SEVENTH.
Jesus Condemned to Death, 201

MEDITATION EIGHTH.
The Way to Calvary, 275

Meditation First.

THE GARDEN OF GETESEMANI.

MEDITATION FIRST.

THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANI.

" When Jesus had said these things, He went forth with His
disciples over the brook Cedron, where there was a garden, into
which He entered."— St. John xviii. 1.

" And He saith to His disciples: Sit you here while I pray. And
He taketh Peter, James, and John with Him. And He saith to
them: Stay you here and watch."— St. Mark xiv. 32, 33, 34.

There was a night in the life of our
beloved Redeemer unequalled in its deep
darkness by any night this world has
ever known. There have been nights of
physical darkness when created light
seemed to be lost, and the pall of terror
has covered the earth. There have been,
and there shall be, "signs in the sun and
in the moon and in the stars ; and upon
the earth distress of nations, when men

12 GETHSEMANT.

wither away for fear and expectation of
what shall come upon the whole world." *
There have been, and there shall be, to
many souls nights of sorrow so profound
that the intelligence seems buried in
depths of woe, where created life is a
mockery and the light uncreated is
hidden, where some unseen hand with
fearful agony touches the strings of the
aching heart, where nothing less than di-
vine power holds the soul that it may
suffer. There are nights when the ties of
the creature are snapped asunder, and
the earth is turned again to a chaos.
There are nights when the spouses of
Jesus Christ are in their Gethsemani,
and the Beloved cannot be found. They
seek Him among the Olive shades, and
find Him not. They call out in anguish :
uO Thou that dwellest in the gardens!
make me hear Thy voice." " Arise, my
Love, my Beautiful One, make haste and

*St. Luke xxi, 25,26.

GETHSEMA1ST. 13

come." "My dove in the clefts of the
rock, show me Thy face, let Thy voice
sound in my ears."* There is no re-
sponse, no sign of His presence ; and the
storm beats upon the soul as it sinks in
the gloom and cries out : " O my Father !
if it be possible let this chalice pass from

me!"f

Yet what are these nights compared to
that which settled upon the Man of Sor-
rows, the Son of God, when He entered
into the garden, bidding the light He
created depart, and with the majesty of
a God welcoming the waves of superhu-
man woe and the storms of diabolical
rage to beat upon Him ! I have watched
on Calvary, where He was dying for love
of me. The earth trembled as if all
things sensible were unanchored, and the
powers of heaven were shaken. The
cloud covered me, and its gloom sank into
the depths of my being. I seemed to die

♦Canticles ii. 10, 13, 14. t St. Matt. xxv. 39.

14 GETHSEMAKI.

and pass with spirits disembodied to a
world I knew not. Yet there upon a
cross He hung. I could see at times His
face through my tears. I could almost
see His smile amid His agony. And
there amid the darkness so profound,
amid the dashing waves of a storm that
nearly robbed me of my reason, I heard
His voice. He was mighty to save. He
seemed to hold in His hand the storm
and to be a conqueror all majestic and
divine, even when His dying throes shook
the cross. Yes, He, my Love, my God,
was there in victory. He was dying, but
He was there.

Now I see another sight, and I know
not bow to tell it. It is not Calvary.
There is no band of soldiers here. I hear
no blaspheming cry. I see no spear nor
nail. There is a silence that moves my
intellect and heart, and crushes me with
its gloom. My Master and my God
seems broken. He trembles with fear.

GETHSEMANI. 15

Oh ! it is awful to see Him on whom I
lean for every strength tremble so ! He
is so sorrowful and so sad that if I look
at Him my heart breaks, and a sadness
all unearthly overwhelms me. Then He
looks at me with such a grief in His
blessed eyes that I am almost dying. I
hear Him say: "My soul is sorrowful
even unto death ; stay you here and
watch with Me." I see Him fall upon
the ground. I hear His sighs. I see His
tears. I listen to His piteous prayers.
My earth is indeed shaken to its centre.
The hands of angels hold me up, else I
could not live and look upon this sight.
Ah! He is bleeding now, bleeding from
every pore, all alone, without a foe
around Him — bleeding, as it seems, to
death. Oh ! this is my God, the Lover of
my soul, my Beautiful One in His crim-
son robe ! The bleeding hands, that now
seem so weak, are my only guides. If I
lose my hold of them I shall wander from

16 GETHSEMANI.

the path of life. That broken Heart,
from which gushes forth the all-atoning
blood, is my only refuge. If I cannot
rest upon it there is no healing for my
wounds ; there can come no morning to
my night of sorrow or of death.

Dearest Lord, let me draw near, all un-
worthy as I am ! Let me kneel and
watch with Thee, where, in tearful sym-
pathy and loving adoration, I may learn
something of Thine agony. Here are
depths that God alone can sound. It is
the anguish of the Infinite. Yet Thou
art man like me. And Thou art mine.
Thy Blood hath washed me from my sin.
Thy Flesh hath quickened my humanity.
If I live, it is because Thou livest in me.
To know Thee as Thou art is my life ; to
be like Thee, my only hope of heaven.
Open, then, to me the treasures of Thine
intelligence. Let its rays descend upon
my feeble heart. Thy night is brighter
than the day at noon. Thou art the sun

OETHSEMAKI. 17

of the celestial sphere, and from Thine
eclipse Thou canst teach me the lessons
which Thy meridian splendor would have
preached in vain. Do I dare where
even angels fear to come 2 Am I pre-
sumptuous to intrude within the secret of
Thy sorrow? When apostles slept and
could not see Thine awful chalice, shall
one like me be so bold as dare to watch
and stay with Thee ? Am I able to look
upon Thy sweat of blood ? Can I venture
to look within Thy bursting heart ? Cam
I look upon Thy weeping eyes ? Dare I
tell the thoughts which crowd upon my
mind, and even speak to other souls the
lessons of this awful night f

O my most compassionate Lord! it is
only for Thy love. It is because Thou
art so winning in Thy crimson robe. It
is that here Thou dost draw souls to
Thee as nowhere else. Here Thou dost
espouse them, and the tie is sealed
with blood. Ohi forgive me if I err. I

18 GETHSEMAKI.

would not wound Thee for all that even
heaven could give. If Thou wilt teach
me and inspire my words, they shall
be the adoration of my utter nothing-
ness, the voices of my deep contrition
for mine unworthiness. My heart shall
ache with Thine that I have been the
burden of Thine anguish, that the red
drops so freely flowing must touch my
wounds and wash my guilt awray. Then
" Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop,
and I shall be cleansed ; Thou shalt
wash me, and I shall be made whiter
than snow. To my hearing Thou shalt
give joy and gladness^ and the bones
that have been humbled shall rejoice.
Thou shalt deliver me from blood.
Thou shalt open my lips, and my mouth
shall declare Thy praise. My afflicted
spirit shall be a sacrifice to Thee. My
contrite and humbled heart Thou wilt
not despise."*

* Psalm l 9-20.

GETHSEMAM. 19

Let me, then, recall the awful scenes
of this night. Let me follow my Lord
as He enters the Garden of Gethsemani,
where He so often kept His watch of
prayer. Let me enter with Him,, and
there, alone with Him, let my heart
awake. The saddest of all vigils is at
hand. I will remember all. It was the
last evening of His life. Three-and- thirty
years were nearly spent ; those wondrous
years of God Incarnate were drawing to
their close. They had all led here.
Surely, then, this earth was the centre
of the universe. It would seem as if the
shining stars looked down, and worlds on
worlds were marching in their courses, in
mute adoration of their King so lowly
and so humbled. The Creator held them
in His hand as they moved in unmeasured
space and glorified His wilL Yet He, the
King and Crown of all, so bowed down,
a man despised and ignored, hides His
heavenly splendor where want and sorrow

20 aETHSEMAKI.

are His daily food. The manger of Beth-
lehem, the exile in Egypt, the hidden life
amid the toils of Nazareth, the wonderful
ministry, miracles of charity and grace,
all led here. The rising and setting suns
that marked the days of God on earth
have nearly done their work. Slowly
sinks the sun to its evening shades, and
darkness is approaching. It must have
been unlike the closing of other days.
The sun must have trembled as for the
last time its departing rays shone upon
the face of its Creator about to die.
The darkness that came must have been
filled with sadness, as if the whole earth
were about to be a grave. Yes, it is the
last day on earth of Jesus ! How did He
spend it ? What were the words and
deeds of this last evening? Precious to
the lover are the last moments of the
Beloved. How did this Sun of justice
and of mercy go down? Let me gather
up the last rays of its decline. On this

GETHSEMAET. 21

final day there was a wonderful change
in the face and form and bearing of
my Beloved. The sweetness of heaven
dwelt upon Him and spoke from every
look and feature. There was a tender-
ness in all He said and did which was
unlike the gentleness of former days.
It seemed as if His heart were bursting
with love, as if He were to say farewell
and could not speak the word. The
sadness that clothed Him was too deep
for human eyes to read ; but it made
Him so winning that love mounted to
the heights of adoration when it looked
upon Him. Surely one day like this
should have drawn all hearts, should
have conquered every rebel will. He went
to the house in Bethany where true
hearts had often given rest to His wearied
head. Once more the Magdalen shall
claim her privilege. Her love and sym-
pathy shall ease His heart ; her touch
shall soothe His aching head. Once she

22 GETHSEMANI.

poured .the ointment upon His blessed
feet, when the tears of her repentance
flowed so fast that He forgave her sin
and washed its guilt away. Now that
she is His, she shall dare to touch His
sacred head. There where the blows of
scorn shall fall, where the crown of thorns
shall make its feverish wounds, the oint-
ment shall be poured. The touch of love
adoring, love above the love of man, shall
speak to the precious face so soon to be
scarred and bruised as if there were none
to care, none to do Him reverence. With
what affection and tenderness does the
penitent kneel before Him ! To her quick
perceptions there is something never be-
fore seen in His look and in every move-
ment. Even the tones of His voice are
changed. He is the same, and yet there
is a kind of transformation. His heart is
overburdened, and His eyes seem to look
far beyond the things of sense. Some
terrible grief is upon Him which the quick

GETHSEMAIQ. 23

eyes of love can see in that face always
full of the divine serenity, but now look-
ing in all its infinite peace as if He were
hurt to the depths of His soul. How can
she comfort Him now? There are no
words. The crushed heart has no lan-
guage. In memory of the blessed scene
that opened to her the gates of life and
gave her again the innocence of youth,
she seeks once more the precious oint-
ment. It will tell all. It is the language
of her love: "My Master, if I loved
Thee then, oh ! what art Thou to me now
that I have given Thee all my heart,
that I have tasted of Thy sweetness, that
my whole being is bound up in Thee ! "
So from her hands flows the ointment
upon the sacred head. It fills the pre-
cious hair ; it runs down upon the majes-
tic forehead ; it bedews the blessed face.
The Master feels the touch of sympathy,
and the incense of her love brings new
tenderness to His eyes as they look

24 GETHSEMAKI.

upon her with a new affection and smile
through tears. They seem to say: uO
child redeemed by My blood, washed by
My hands, and bound to Me now by ho-
liest ties, little dost thou know the way
of sorrow that is before Me. You could
not go with Me where I would not even
take My Mother. I must go alone. I am
going to die a. cruel death. This is My
last day among the children I have come
to save. But oh ! this farewell, this death
were little to the sorrows of this night.
They are coming fast. I feel their power
now. I am hardly now Myself, they
overwhelm Me so. Do you know what
your dear hands have done ? You have
anointed Me for the silent grave. To-
morrow night you will seek Me in the
sepulchre. My limbs shall lie upon the
stone. My hands and feet, all torn and
swollen from the nails, shall be cold in
death. My heart, whose tremulous beat-
ing you can feel, shall be pierced with

GETHSEMANX. 25

the soldier's spear. This head you have
prepared for its resting-place within the
tomb. The face you love shall be bruised
with blows. The crown of thorns shall
leave its cruel wounds where now your
ointment flows. These eyes shall have no
more tears to shed ; they shall be closed
within the grave. Look at Me, My pre-
cious child, and wonder,, not that I am
sad. But all of this My death you may
see. You may follow in the steps of her
I love beyond all save God. You may
come and see Me die. But where I go
this night you cannot come, and I cannot
tell you of its woe. Before I die there
is something worse than death. My last
night shall be a night indeed. The Eter-
nal Spirit and the angels who are set to
guard My humanity are bearing Me now
to the garden of My sorrow. Oh ! how
fast the hours are running ! I can hard-
ly now restrain My sweat of blood. I
must go. Farewell until you meet Me

26 GETHSEMAISTI.

»

on Calvary. I must fulfil My heart's
desire, make My testament, and leave
My legacy of love. Then in My short,
suffering life I have done all that even
God can do. You have heard the mur-
murs of My disciple. He has grudged
the waste of this anointing. He can-
not see the wounds he so unfeelingly
inflicts upon Me. He has no knowledge
of My grief, no compassion for a heart
like Mine, that shrinks and trembles at
ingratitude. Even now he has gone to
sell Me to My enemies ; and he My
friend, whom I have kissed, will come to
break upon My scene of agony, and with
a band of ruffians he will seize Me as I
faint beneath the Olive shades. I am
God. I am his friend. He will sell Me
for a price. I am valued at thirty pieces
of silver. He will make his bargain, and
he will betray Me with a kiss. Now
while I leave you, and with the few who
are true to Me pass on to celebrate the

GETHSEMANI. 27

mystic rite which this night shall find its
first fulfilment, he has done his work. I
am sold. Then he will come to the supper
of the Passover and sit beside Me. Oh!
tell me, was ever sorrow like to Mine?"

With eyes that strained their powers to
see the last vision of her Love, the Mag-
dalen, followed Him as with His disciples
He slowly passed away. Then, when she
could see Him no longer, and there was
no relief for her aching heart, she fell
upon her knees in prayer, and all this
awful night she watched, while grief as
from another world engulfed her within
its shadows. It was her night of agony
with Him, although so far away and she
so helpless to console Him.

We follow Him as He goes along the
way to Jerusalem. In after-years how
those disciples remembered the steps of
this sad journey ! He spoke but little.
His form was bent. Now and then He
would lean upon St. Peter or St. John,

28 GETHSEMA1STI.

and seem to gather comfort from their
truth. His eyes were often filled with
tears. And as the Holy City with its
temple came in sight, His sobs could
not be restrained. The King was coming
to His regal city, not amid hosannas or
the cries of welcome, but as a stranger to
the home which had forsaken Him. The
cries of " Crucify Him!" should sound
to-morrow, and He was coming there to
die. The hill of sacrifice was near. The
scene of to-morrow's tragedy was close at
hand, and the cross was already hewn
and ready. He entered within the city's
gates. It was the eve of the great fes-
tival, and amid the throngs no one no-
ticed the Nazarene and His poor follow-
ers. He passes through the narrow street.
The house is open and the room is pre-
pared. " His time is near at hand." No
power can stay the fleeting hours. The
sun has set, and the darkness of the even-
ing is upon them, when they enter there

GETHSEMA1ST, 29

to celebrate the Passover. Once when the
destroying angel stood to bring the curse
of death upon their homes, the blood of a
bleeding lamb was their preserver. Now
the Lamb is here, Himself to keep the
feast, and then fulfil the type and com-
plete the prophecy. Around that table
they are seated, the apostles of the New
Law, and the Master with them. The
Paschal Lamb is set before them. The
seven days of unleavened bread were
kept. Their shoes were on their feet,
their staves were in their hands. * Was
this a feast of joy, this memorial of a na-
tion's deliverance? Why, then, the sad-
ness that from the Master fell upon the
disciples ? Is the dread angel of death
hovering over them, and will not the
blood of the lamb protect them ? Alas I
there is a mightier death at hand than
earth has ever known. It will strike the
Master. The destroyer will meet the

* Exodus xii.

30 GETHSEMANI.

Creator. The Lamb of God, the Eternal
Son, is to be slain. The great types of
patriarchal days and of the Old Law are
now to be fulfilled. While they were
eating the Paschal Lamb the face of Jesus
fills them with terror and apprehension of
evil to come. A death-like paleness rests
upon it, and life seems to be departing
from Him. He seems to take the place of
the lamb before them. They are feeding
upon it now. Soon they shall feed upon
Him. Yet there is a pause for a moment,
as the mystic rite is finished, and He
turns with eyes fall of unearthly agony,
to look upon the disciples. "Are you
not My friends in My dire extremity ?
Will you stand between Me and the
shadows of horror which pursue Me i
I must tell you of the sorrow which
breaks my heart as now I make My
dying testament. One of you, My cho-
sen whom I have so loved, is about to
betray Me. He has partaken of the

OETHSEMANI. 31

Paschal Lamb with Me, and, traitor
that he is, he will even partake of Me
and feed upon the body and the blood
in My last testament of love, the sacred
humanity of his Master and his God,
which he with the price of treason has
delivered unto death- Do you wonder
that I am sad ? You have been with
Me in the toils and sorrows of My min-
istry. You have seen My miracles and
heard the words which I have spoken
to no other ears. We have been a lit-
tle band bound by the ties of a more
than human friendship. The world has
hated Me, and priests have sought My
life. You have known Me as I have
revealed to you My Godhead. You
have been My comfort when the mul-
titude has mocked Me and the rulers
have driven Me to the mountain or
the desert. Now the chosen band is
broken. Fresh from My embrace the
traitor goes, and he will find Me in

32 0ETHSEMANI.

My wonted place of prayer, and the
shadows of the olive-trees shall see
to-night the breaking heart of God's
incarnate Son. The traitor is at My
side ; he dips his hand in the dish
with Me. He even looks upon My
agonizing face with untroubled eyes,
while your true hearts are full of sym-
pathy and strange dismay. He asks Me
to tell him of the treason which he
feigns to wonder at. I give him now
his last warning. I shall not speak
again to him until I meet him in the
garden, and My blood-stained lips re-
ceive his sacrilegious kiss. Will he
dare remain, now that he hears the voice
of My reproach? Will he, too, kneel
while I shall change the bread and wine
by My creating power? Will he, too,
feed upon the Lamb of Calvary, upon
My Body and My Blood?"

Now may the Spirit tell the scene. I
see the disciples as they kneel with hearts

GETHSEMAJNT. 33

o'erwhelmed and heads bowed down.
But I cannot paint my Master as He
stands before that table. The scene is
more than earthly. He takes upon Him-
self the majesty of God, and yet He wears
the utmost humility of man. I see before
me the grandeur of the patriarchal line,
the dignity of my first father Adam, the
form sublime of Noe as he stood upon
the mountain when the destroying waves
sank away and the baptized earth slowly
emerged from the waste of waters. I see
the great high-priest Aaron in his sacer-
dotal robes, with the long line of Levites
as they stood within the tabernacle and
the temple before the altar of propitia-
tion. I see Melchisedech, king of ^alern,
prince of peace, ' ' without father, without
mother, without genealogy, having nei-
ther beginning of days nor end of life,
but likened unto the Son of God, a priest
for ever. " * I see more than this. The

* Heb. vii. 3.

34 GETIISEMANI.

past by mystery becomes the present. I
see the chaos of the new-created earth.
The light of the Eternal Spirit hangs upon
it, and the Word of the Father speaks,
while celestial light springs forth and the
mountains and the valleys put on their
forms of beauty. It is my lowly Master.
I know well the blessed face. And yet
it seems another. Before the sight my
heart, my soul, my whole being bow
down and sink in wonder as I listen. It
is the same voice, and yet its tones are
unlike the tones of human voice. I fall
prostrate before the tender revelation of
my Master's heart and the words that
come from the throne of Father, Son,
and Holy Ghost, from between the wings
of Cherubim, from the uncreated light.
This is His dying testament. This is His
legacy of love. This is "the priest for
ever according to the order of Melchise-
dech."* He takes the bread; He lifts

* Heb. vih 17»

GETHSEMANX. 35

his eyes to heaven ; He blesses it ; He
gives it to His disciples. The lips of
the Creator speak: "Take ye and eat;
this is My Body." " He takes the
chalice ; He blesses it ; He lifts His voice
in praise. He gives it to the kneeling
twelve : Drink ye all of this, for this
is My Blood of the new testament,
which shall be shed for many for the
remission of sins." * When this mighty
miracle was wrought I looked upon
the sad faces of the twelve. There was
Peter with his strong faith and the light
of a new zeal kindling in his earnest
eyes. There was John with more than
human tenderness gazing upon the face
divine, seeking to read its wealth of love
as in its changing features there flashed
the light of Godlike power with the soft-
ness of pity infinite. I watched the won-
dering disciples, then lifted to the exalt-
ed dignity of their priesthood. In each

* St. Matt. xxvi. 26-28.

36 GETHSEMAXI.

I saw a transformation strange as it was
wonderful. There was a tie before un-
known, before impossible. The Master
and the chosen band were one indeed,
partakers of the One. The New Testa-
ment was proclaimed. The priests had
feasted on the Lamb of God. " There
was one Body and one Bread." * And
yet a veil of darkness fills the sacred
place. They cannot see the fulness of
the mighty gift of God. " What I do
thou knowest not now ; but thou shalt
know hereafter," f were the words of
Jesus, which were well remembered in
the days to come. I looked upon the
face of Judas. Does he hate his Master
now ? Is it madness like that of de-
mons, or is it the blackness of despair ?
It is no merely human face. He has
added to his treason the crime which
has no equal in the vileness of untruth.
He has received the Lamb whom he

* 1 Cor. x. 17. t St. John xiii. 7.

GETHSEMANI. 37

has sold for gain. The very body which
he has sought to hang upon the cross
he has not feared to take within
his lips. Will he not yet repent ? Is
it yet too late for pardon? I see no
signs of sorrow. His eyes are bold. His
hands are firm. His limbs tremble not
with fear. Will he go upon his errand
now? The shadows deepen. The mid-
night hour approaches. The priests are
waiting on his word before the festal
rites begin.

No ! there is another scene. It shall
prepare him for his work. My eyes were
full of tears. My heart was overwhelmed.
There was a sadness deep as darkest
night, and yet a sweetness like a breath
of peace from Paradise. I loved this sad-
ness, even though my heart seemed break-
ing. Through my tears I looked upon
my Master. What is it that draws me
so and yet which makes me tremble ?
He is more winning than I have ever

38 GETHSEMAtfl.

known Him, and yet the change alarms
me so. I must look upon Him, and yet
I quake with fear. There is a look as of
one slain, as of one sacrificed and yet
alive. I cannot speak. I cannot move.
I can only look upon Him. Where will
He lead me ? My soul, without words,
cries out: "Draw me, O my Beloved;
we will run after Thee to the odor of
Thine ointments." * " He rises from the
table and layeth aside His garments, and,
taking a towel, He girds Himself there-
with. He poureth water into a basin,
and begins to wash the feet of the disci-
ples, and to wipe them with the towel
wherewith He was girded, "f I hear Him
say: "If I wash thee not, thou bast no
part in Me." I see the special love
wherewith He touches every one of the
disciples. These are the feet that for
Him shall stand upon the dark moun-
tains of the earth, and to its utmost

* Canticles i. 3. t St. John xiii. 2, 3.

GETHSEMAIVTI. 39

bounds proclaim His grace. These are
the feet that in their turn shall run with
joy to the sacrifice of blood. He conies
to Judas now. Will he, too, let the
Master wash his feet? Can he bear the
tender touch? And will the feet which
these hands have cleansed run now to
seal the fatal bargain? Where are the
wings of angels ? Where the powers of
grace? My Jesus looks upon him once
again as He rises from his feet. It is a
look that might have moved the ada-
mant. It tells him of the fearful sor-
rows of ingratitude, of the guilt of trea-
son, of the chance of pardon. That
hard face has no relenting feature. It
changes not beneath the tearful gaze of
a sorrowing God. O Judas ! awake be-
fore thy doom is sealed. Canst thou be-
tray thy friend and benefactor, and for
a paltry price canst thou sell thy Mas-
ter? There is no relenting. A film of
gloom comes down upon his eyes. He

40 GETHSEMANI.

can hardly see. The light of reason falls
a slave to avarice, and tenderest ties are
broken at the voice of passion. O false
disciple ! it is too late. The lips of Jesus
open once again. I never heard His voice
so sad. Not even on the cross were His
tones so filled with grief. "If thou, My
child, whom I have loved with love that
God alone can give, whom I have made
My priest, to whom the treasures of My
heart have been unveiled — if, after all that
has passed in the secret of our friendship,
thou wilt deliver Me to Mine enemies who
seek My blood, then hasten on thy way.
They that have bought Me and will kill
Me are waiting for thee. It is an awful
deed, but spare Me not. Let the knife of
thine ingratitude go deep within My heart.
If thou dost not shrink to thrust it there,
go on thy fearful way. 'What thou
doest, do quickly.' " ..* I saw the traitor
go, and with him went the heavy cloud

* St. John xiii. 27.

GETHSEMANI. 41

which filled the souls of all. The shades
of sadness for a moment passed from
the Master's face, as when the light of
heaven for an instant drives away the
darkness of a gathering storm. The heart
of Jesus seems relieved. There is no
treason now around Him : only friends
are kneeling at His feet. He hath many
parting words to speak. He tells them of
His sacrifice and its fruits, of the Church
which they shall found, of the love where-
with the Father shall embrace them for
His sake. They have seen the body of
their God made flesh. They shall see the
body mystical which His humanity shall
quicken into life eternal. He tells them
of that sacrament of unity wherein all
made one with Him shall be one with
God ; of the Spirit that shall come upon
them to unfold the riches which they
could not comprehend. His eyes are
filled with radiance divine as He be-
holds the Church which, coming from His

42 GETHSEMAtfl.

opened side, shall be the mother of the
living.

He lifts His eyes to heaven, and His
lips ejaculate a prayer: " Father, the
hour is come ; glorify Thy Son, that Thy
Son may glorify Thee."* He seems ready
now for the sacrifice. I listen as a hymn
of praise arises from the Master and
the wondering disciples. His voice,
so dear and so divine, is leading in the
melody, and the sadness that broke forth
in tears now breaks forth in song. Oh !
when shall a hymn like this be heard
again ? ' ' When Israel went out of Egypt,
and the house of Jacob from a barbarous
people, Judea was made his sanctuary,
Israel his dominion. The sea saw and
fled ; Jordan was turned back. At the
presence of the Lord the earth was moved,
at the presence of the God of Jacob."
"The sorrows of death have compassed
me, and the perils of hell have found

* St. John xvii. 1.

GETHSEMANI. 43

me." " I will take the chalice of sal-
vation and call upon the name of the
Lord." "The stone which the builders
rejected, the same is become the head of
the corner. This is the gate of the Lord :
the just shall enter therein."* Is this
like the melody of heaven ? When shall
I hear my Jesus sing once more?

But I must follow the steps of my Be-
loved. The scene within the cenacle is
over. With the solemn chant He passes
out upon the open street. In the dark-
ness of the night they walk unmolested
towards the gate of the city, and their
voices are clear upon the still air. Above
them all I can hear my Master's tones as
He leads them towards the Mountain of
Olives. Those blessed tones are now sad,
now trembling with fear, now even joyful.
Oh ! tell me, my angel guardian, where is
my Beloved going? My Mother is not
here. I look in vain for her gentle face

* Psalms cxiii., cxiv., cxv., cxvii.

44 GETHSEMAKL

and the strength that ever held my falter-
ing steps. Can I go where she is not?
Yes, I must follow my Jesus. He draws
me and I must go. I trust Him for His
grace. "Even if I walk in the midst of
the shadow of death, I can fear no evil
while He is with me." * I may be bold,
I may be presuming, but I must go.
They are coming now to the brook Ce-
dron, and they lead me into the garden of
Gethsemani. Well do I know its recesses
and its Olive shades. Here I have often
been with my Master, and I have watched
Him in His prayer. At a distance I have
seen Him hide Himself beneath the trees,
and I have begged for the inspiration of
His soul and that I might unite my fee-
ble voice with His. But this is not like
other nights. This is the last ; and to-
morrow my Love will die. I fear and
tremble, and my heart is beating as if its
life would quickly run out ; but can I

* Psalm xxii. 4.

GETHSEMANI. 45

stay away? I will follow Him. I will
not intrude upon His gaze. There are
angels here in serried ranks. There are
the spirits of the night. I feel their
power, and I am borne along, I know
not how. My angel shall help me. He
shall hide me beneath his wings while
my Jesus makes his watch of prayer on
this His last night on earth. He will for-
give me, for it is love that leads me, and
love that cannot be rebuked. With trem-
bling steps my Master leads the way into
the dense shade, where the light of the
Paschal moon can scarcely penetrate.
Then He pauses, and it seems that He can
no longer stand. His whole form bends
forward as if he were about to fall. He
sighs. He weeps. He looks to His disci-
ples with an expression of the most terri-
ble suffering, as if begging them to pity
Him. He leans upon Peter, and then
bows His head upon the breast of the be-
loved disciple. Oh! is He dying now?

46 GETHSEMAtfl.

He turns to the eleven to speak. His
sobs choke His utterance. ' 4 Pray, pray, ' '
said He, "for the tempter cometh, and
his angels are here in power. The dread-
ful gloom of their lost spirits is upon Me.
Stay you here, but pray for strength,
while I go yonder to my awful prayer. I
saw it from all eternity. I saw it when
first I opened My eyes upon this sinful
world, when first I laid My head upon
the dear breast of My mother. I dread it,
but it must come. Stay you here, and as
you can, unite your prayers with Mine.
And you, Peter, the rock of My Church,
My vicar upon earth ; and you, John My
beloved, and James, who have asked to
sit upon My throne, and have thought
yourselves able to be baptized with blood
— you come with Me ; come, and leave Me
not alone ; come and watch with Me. Oh !
I am so sad. Do you know what it is for
Me, your God, to be so sad? The great
capacities of My divine soul are strained

GETHSEMANI. 47

to their utmost. My soul, the soul of the
Incarnate Word, is sorrowful even unto
death."

O my Jesus ! what will I do ? I cannot
live and see Thee suffer so. Oh ! what is
it? There is no foe at hand. Earth is
quiet. I hear nothing but the plaintive
murmur of the trees. Surely no enemy
can come nigh Thee in this secure retreat.
But where are the angels that ever watch
around Thee ? Are they frightened when
they see Thy sorrowing face ? Come and
help me, spirits of the light ; come, lift
my eyes and hold me up. I thought I
could always look upon my Redeemer's
face. If He would permit me I thought
my eyes would ever yearn to meet His
gaze. Now He does not hinder me. He
even courts my look of sympathy. He
even asks me to turn to Him with all my
powers of sense and sight. And yet I
cannot look upon Him. Such sorrow,
such sadness, such awful loneliness are

48 GETHSEMAKI.

written on the features I love so well, that
I am not able to lift up my head ; and
when for an instant my tearful eyes meet
His, my head bows down in utter weak-
ness. I know He sees my heart. I can-
not, oh ! I cannot look upon this agony of
my God. It is worse than death. I can
hardly feel that I am living, and yet I
am not dead. He trembles so that my
reason seems to stagger. My Gfod! the
strength of all my hopes is overwhelmed
with fear. I see Peter, James, and John,
and they are resting on the ground. Oh !
can they sleep? And He, so lonely, so
pitiful, staggers on as if there were no
friend to comfort Him. O my God !
hold Him up ; send forth Thine angels to
bear Him in their hands, or He will fall !
Alas! it is too late! What shall I do?
A nameless terror freezes me, and my
hands and feet will not obey my will.
He has fallen on His face. My Beautiful
One, my beloved Lord, has fallen as if

GETHSEMANI. 49

He were bereft of life. There He lies as
helpless as if He were dead. Oh ! tell me,
is He dead ? I looked forward to the hill
of sacrifice. I was to go to Calvary to
see Him die. Is it all over now? Here
in the garden, without the touch of nail
or spear, is He dead ? Ah ! I hear the
blessed tones of that loved voice. My
spirit wakes from its dread dream. He is
not dead. But oh ! what do I hear ? In
tones so weak, so full of grief, I hear
Him say, " O My Father ! if it is possible
let this chalice pass from Me. Neverthe-
less, not as I will but as Thou wilt."
These are the words which come from
His dear mouth, pressed upon the ground
as if He could not raise His head. Oh ! in
all my experience or imagination of hu-
man woe I had never dreamed of sorrow
like this. All the agonies which the frenzy
of men or demons has caused the mar-
tyrs in their death -struggles are nothing
to this ! Even He, the mighty God, the

50 GETHSEMAISTI.

strong arm of the Most High, can hardly
bear it. Even He begs that this chalice
of sorrow may pass from Him. That
plaintive cry, that wail of the broken
heart of my Lord, pierces my soul. I
seem to lose all power over my reason.
I tremble so that I seem like one dying.
0 my Jesus, my All, my only Rest !
what can I do for Thee ? Thou holdest
me up with the embrace of Thy loving
arms, and Thou art prostrate upon the
ground as if there were none to comfort
Thee ! Oh ! so desolate is my Beloved
that He is alone in this His hour of su-
perhuman woe. Do my tears reach
Thee? Do the sighs of my grateful
heart come near Thee now % Alas ! God
have mercy on me, I fear I have my part
in this agony of my only Love— I can
weep ; I can pray ; but I am not worthy
to come near my Beautiful One in His
awful disfigurement. I have to beg the
breaking Heart of my Jesus to pity me.

GETHSEMANI. 51

Where is Magdalen with the sweet oint-
ment of her true love? Where is my
blessed Mother, whose look or touch
would have soothed His sorrow ? Oh !
she could not be here. He loved her too
much to take her into this Gethsemani.
Could she bear it ? She has to nerve her-
self for the morrow, for Calvary, for the
death-scene, for the burial. What is my
little love to hers ? It is only as a drop
to the vast ocean, or as one ray of light
to the meridian splendor of the sun.
Where is the beloved disciple, he whose
head had so often rested on the sacred
breast, where now the heart is struggling
with its tumultuous beating? Could he
go away from his Lord? I heard the
Master say, as He left him amid the
shadows: " Stay here and watch with
Me." Oh! is he watching now? I see
no one. My Beloved lies alone upon the
green turf, with no one to watch His
convulsive sobs, the awful trembling of

52 GETHSEMANI.

His prostrate body. The grass of Geth-
semani takes up His tears, and the si-
lent trees are the only visible compan-
ions of His agony. Not a leaf moves ;
not a breath stirs the foliage which
droops around Him, as if even nature
were dead. 0 death ! O cruel death !
where hast thou had a triumph like
this?

As I watch, behold He rises slowly, so
weak that He can only stagger along.
He goes pitifully to His chosen friends.
He seems, like a beggar, to yearn for
their sympathy, and His tearful eyes, so
red with weeping, seem to crave a look
of kindness or a word of love. Alas !
their eyes are closed in sleep. Upon the
ground they lie, all unconscious of His
terrible grief. They could sleep while He
was suffering in mortal agony. O my
poor Jesus ! I see Thee in the letters of
prophecy " looking sadly about when
there is none to help, seeking with sobs

GETHSEMANI. 53

for aid and finding none,"* not even one
kind look or word. " He appears as the
most abject of men, and as one despised,
like a leper, struck by God and afflict-
ed.' ?f "He called for friends, and they
deceived Him" ; "His eyes have failed
with weeping," and His broken form
and agonizing face speak without words :
uO all ye that pass by the way, attend
and see if there be any sorrow like un-
to Mine. The Lord has made a vintage
of Me, as He spoke in the day of His
fierce anger." He hath been trodden in
the wine-press alone, and the red drops
are forcing themselves from His crush-
ed heart to every pore of His body.
"From above the fire hath burned in
His bones. The anger of God hath
chastised Him, and made Him desolate,
wasted with sorrow.":}: He looks at His
sleeping friends. It would seem that
such a look from God incarnate in His

* Isaias ixiii. 5. t liii. 3, 4. % Lam. i. 12, 13.

54 GETHSEMAKT.

woe would have roused them from sleep
and have stirred the depths of their
being. No ! they are resting as if un-
moved. There comes a change in His
countenance, and in the look of utter
desolation there is an expression of pity
with ineffable tenderness. He speaks to
Peter, who a few moments ago was ready
to die with Him. Oh ! if I could remem-
ber for all eternity that look of His face
and the tones of His voice ! It went to my
heart and opened the fountains of remorse.
It wounded me with the sting of its sad
reproach. I know that wound will never
heal. I ask not for its healing until I
see Him in glory, and the pierced hands
shall touch it when there can be no
longer danger of parting from my
Love. " Peter, My true disciple, My
vicar on earth, is it so that thou canst
sleep now? I begged you with tears to
watch with Me. Could you not watch
one hour ? " " Alas ! you know not

GETHSEMANI. 55

your danger. You have not begun to
learn the tenderness of My heart. This
is an awful night. The powers of dark-
ness are crowding around us. The sins
of the ages are weighing Me down.
Arise, awake, watch and pray. Pray as
you never prayed before. The spirit
may be willing, but poor human na-
ture, how weak it is!"

He turns away, and, as if borne by
some supernatural force, staggers back
to the lonely scene of desolation. The
darkness deepens. A superhuman gloom
falls upon the garden. There are no
shadows. It is all black night. I strain
my eyes. I can see nothing; but, O
my God ! I hear Him fall. He falls
more heavily than before. Has awful
death come at last? No, I feel that
the destroying angel is there with his
drawn sword. But he has not killed
Him yet. In the dense, fearful dark-
ness I hear again His agonizing pray-

56 GETHSEMANI.

er, more plaintive than before. It must
rend the heavens. It must break the
clouds. There must come some ray of
light. "O My Father! if this chalice
cannot pass away except I drink it, Thy
will be done." Now I can see nothing,
but I seem to see blackness of nighb. I
know not how long my Beloved lay
prostrate on the ground. It seemed
an age when I looked and saw a sha-
dow pass before me, and I knew it was
He. Nothing else could so move me.
I follow the shadow. It leads me to
the three disciples. They are asleep
again. Their eyes are so heavy they
can scarcely open them. Some spirit
of darkness hath touched them. They
are struggling to awake. I saw the
bending shadow of my Love. Not a
word was spoken. Dreadful sighs rang
out upon the chill air and upon my
frozen senses. Convulsive sobs shook
Him, and the tears ran down like

GETHSEMAISTI. 57

fountains. But I could not see His face.
Perhaps He spared me for His great
compassion ; I think I could not then
have seen His face and lived. Yet how
I loved Him then I could not tell, fast-
ened though I was and rooted to the
ground like the rocks of ages. There
were things ineffable of which I cannot
speak. I suffered ; I seemed to suffer
with Him; and yet the love I had for
Him was like a fire in which my whole
being seemed to burn. May He forgive
me ! I am dumb before Him. I know
not what I say.

The shadow passes by me once again.
This time it comes nearer. Was I pre-
sumptuous when I thought I felt the
power of His presence, and in my grief
a sweetness stole upon me such as I
had not known before? I dare not say.
But He passed, and soon the light, the
inward light, had gone. There was no
outward light. To the sacred place

58 GETHSEMANI.

where my Beloved went I force my
vision. 0 earth, earth, cruel earth,
that hearest now the plaintive prayer
of God made man ! Again hath He
fallen on thy breast. The earth which
so many sins have cursed shall bear
Him when no other place of rest is
found, and shall dry His tears and
drink His blood. "O my Father! I
know Thy will. This chalice which tor-
ments Me so, cannot pass away. Not
My will but Thine be done. I take it.
Press it to My lips, and I will drink it
all. My Father, from Thy hand I take
in its full measure this awful grief. No
one but Gfod could drink it, and I am
God, Thy co-equal Son. Let the sword
descend, but let the Eternal Spirit hold
Me up." Now I hear no more. He
will not speak again. I seem to feel the
desolation of this awful chalice. He,
my Beloved, my Beautiful One — He is
drinking it all alone. I know He is not

GETHSEMAHL 59

dead, for I feel so strangely the power
of His life. Slowly do the moments
fly. It seems the watch of an eternal
night. There is no sun. There are no
stars. There are only clonds which
wrap all nature in their gloom.

Yes, my Jesus, I am watching here
with Thee. While Thou art here I will
not fear the night. I will pray, and
when I cannot pray I will think of
Thee. And when the power of thought
seems gone, and I am as if I had no
being, I will feel Thy presence. I could
not touch Thy chalice. Oh ! I am not
fit to think that I could be sharer in
Thy woe — I, who so many times by
my inconstant love have grieved Thee !
Yet here, on the darkest night that
earth hath ever seen, I would believe
that I am weaned from all but Thee,
that I will never wound Thee more.
And so I pray, while shadows after
shadows pass upon my soul, and sense

60 GETHSEMAKI.

seems lost for ever. At last there comes
to me a ray of light. From some far-
off source it lightens up the darkness
and reveals to me the prostrate form of
my agonizing Lord. One beam shines
full upon Him. All else is dark. Yet,

0 my Blessed Lord ! what does this
light unfold? Thou art bleeding. Thy
garments are wet with blood. Thy
hands and feet are bleeding. Thy dear
face is red, and great drops of blood
are running down from Thy weeping
eyes. The grass beneath Thee is crim-
son with the fast-gushing current of
Thy life. Oh ! what can I do? I close
my eyes with fear, with horror, and
with grief. Then I dare to look again.

1 am not deceived. It is too true. The
chalice has been taken, and it has done
its work. The heart of love divine, of
tenderness infinite, gave way. Can I live
and see this sight? Angels cannot help
me now. Their drooping wings hang

GETHSEMANL 61

down, and they are desolate. Only the
bleeding hands can support me here.
Prostrate there He lies, and yet I feel
the pressure of those almighty arms.
"Who is this that cometh from Edom,
with dyed garments from Bosra, this
Beautiful One in His robe? Why is
Thine apparel red, and Thy garments
like theirs that tread in the wine-press % " *
" This is the Word of God, and He wears
the garments sprinkled with blood." f
The Infinite is stooping here. The love
of God has found its true expression.
God is Man and bleeds from head to
foot with agony. O Jesus, my redeem-
er ! how I love Thee in Thy sad dis-
figurement ! Let my feeble heart but
tell Thee in this night of woe how dear
Thou art to me ! I love Thee for Thy
beauty, which far transcends the powers
of thought. I love Thee for Thy grace,
which, amid the wrecks my sins have

* Isaias lxiii. 1, 2. tApoc. xix. 13.

62 GETHSEMANI.

wrought, hath, strength to quicken me
with life. I love Thee for the pity
which Thou hast for me, so lonely and
so vile. But most of all I love Thee
because Thou wilt have my heart, and
in Thy dear compassion dost stoop to
take my love. To Thee in Thy great
humiliation, exhausted with Thy sweat
of blood, I consecrate my all. The ears
divine are red with blood, but they are
quick to hear my vows. My bleeding
Jesus, let me come to Thee. Let my
tears run down with Thine. Oh ! keep
me, wash me in Thy blcod !

Now the beam of light which reveal-
ed to me my Blessed Love seems to
gather strength. It is brighter in my
soul. I watch my Jesus, and, oh! eter-
nal praise to God, He is not alone.
Bright forms are at His side. Rays of
uncreated gladness gleam upon their gar-
ments as they draw near. They kneel
around Him. They lift Him up. They

GETHSEMANT. 63

bow before Him. I hear no words.
Yet darkness flies away, and upon His
agonizing face there comes a smile of
peace. The light of heaven is here, and
I mnst look away. Not for me this
revelation of the glory that shall be
hereafter. These are the great archan-
gels come to speak the words of com-
fort in the desolation of their Eternal
King.

Meditation Second.

TEE AGONY OF FEAR.

MEDITATION SECOND.

THE AGONY OF FEAR.

"Fear seized upon me, and trembling, and all my bones were
affrighted."— Job iv. 14.

I look not now upon the angels who
have come so gladly to console my dear-
est Lord. My heart seems far away. I
see one sight — the prostrate form of my
Beloved. I see the awful sweat of blood.
I see the crimsoned turf whereon He lies.
I hear one voice — His sad, His piercing
cry. He, so strong, seems now so weak.
I feel the watches of His agony, as step
by step the fearful waves dash over Him.
I see Him overwhelmed with fear, trem-
bling as if some mighty dread would kill
Him. His sadness like a pall of dark-

67

68 GETHSEMA1ST.

ness falls upon my spirit till I pant for
life. I see Him there alone. He is the
mighty God ; yet never was a sufferer
so desolate. No night like this has ever
clouded all the rays of light or been
so awful in its gloom. And yet I love
Thee so, my Jesus, that I cannot turn
away. I would fear, if Thou didst leave
me here, for surely I am not among the
powers of earth. I am not among the
dead, nor do I seem to be among the
living. This garden is a world unknown.
It cannot be the earth. It is not hea-
ven. In the depths of darkness drear
my soul is lost in Thee. Thine agoniz-
ing heart is drawing me. Wilt Thou,
dearest Lord, but listen to my prayer?
May one like me but look within the
clouds that wrap Thee round ? Oh ! tell
me something of Thy woe. Then Thy
garden shades shall be my teacher.
Here I see no created thing. None but
Thee, my dearest Lord, none but Thee.

GETHSEMAKI. 69

From the prostrate form amid the
sighs and tears, while red drops gush
from every pore, there comes a mes-
sage to my heart. My soul awakens ;
my whole being trembles. Deeper grows
the night. I am descending down, down
some awful cavern where my loneliness
grows sweet, where my desolation with
its fearful pain seems death ; for here the
voice comes up to me which tells me of
my Master's woe, and in Gethsemani I
am drinking in the sorrows of the Sa-
cred Heart.

Listen, if thou canst, my child. Thou
shalt see what thy birth of blood has
cost Me. If thou art Mine, I have won
thee by a broken heart. Dost thou love
Me well enough to follow where I lead ?
Art thou not afraid to dwell within these
shades, the darkness of a superhuman
night, and here to be alone with Me, to
be alone indeed, where no sense shall
tell that I am with thee, where even I

70 GETHSEMANI.

shall hide Myself, and faith alone shall
prove to thee that I have not forsaken
thee ? Canst thou lie down upon the
crimsoned turf and weep with Me, even
when I seem to leave thee all alone?
Then, w^hile earth and sense seem dead,
and heaven is far away, My sighs shall
teach thee. Thou shalt know a little of
the depths of My compassion. Thou
shalt feel a little of the tenderness which
dwells within My breast. Would the
nuptials of thy King affright thee if I
seal thee to My Heart in blood ? I will
tell thee of My sufferings when thou art
wholly Mine. When I put the ring upon
thy hand, and press thee closely to My
wounded side, thou shalt learn a little of
My love, a little of the grief that over-
whelmed My soul, that I might wash
thee clean, might win thy heart and
make thee all My own.

When I took upon Myself the work
of suffering, I took it as a God. I bade

GETHSEMANI. 71

the light depart. I bade the torturers to
come. I bowed My head and bade
the mighty waves of sorrow dash upon
Me. The spirits of the rebel host whom
once I chased from heaven and bound in
everlasting chains were then unloosed.
They came for their revenge. Within
the hearts of men I came to save they
lighted up the fires of hate, and earth
arose against Me with demoniac rage.
I willed this passion. I willed it as a
God. And when the clouds arose I felt
the fury of the storm. I trembled with
the frenzy of the blast. To devils and to
men I was the mark of every weapon,
while I held back the drooping wings of
angels, and God's incarnate Son sustain-
ed the shock alone. Well do I remem-
ber that last awful day, My last among
the sons of men. I was descending to
the pains of death before the soldiers
came, before the nails were driven, be-
fore My Judas sold Me. There was no

72 GETHSEMANI.

disease upon Me. The flesh of God
could never know decay. There was
perfect health within Me, and the ful-
ness of my manhood crowned Me with
its strength. And yet death was coming,
awful death, such as this sad world had
never known before. It was coining
over Me with all its baneful power. My
limbs were failing. I could hardly move.
My head was aching with the pangs of
more than mortal pain. It drooped up-
on My breast, and tears came freely to
My eyes and almost closed My vision.
My heart sank down, and agony I cannot
tell you of so filled Me that I struggled
with this mighty death to wait for Me
upon the cross. I held back the bitter
waters, and all day long I bade them
watch for Me within the garden. There
I gave them liberty to overwhelm Me.
Yet could I tell you of the love that all
that day so filled My trusting heart —
love infinite that ran within My veins

GETHSEMANL 73

and gushed unbidden from My eyes ?
I had loved the race of man eternally,
and the tenderness of God was My com-
passion for the lost. But that last day
it seemed something more to Me. When
the Magdalen touched My aching head
My love was stronger than the pangs of
death. I so yearned to clasp My wan-
dering sheep, and hold them safe with-
in My arms, that I welcomed more of
woe, and the blood was bounding in
My veins, impatient to be shed. And
when I journeyed to Jerusalem to die
the thought was sweet to Me. Each
step was bringing on the hour of grace
when by fearful death I could redeem
My loved ones, break their chains, and
wash them from the stains of guilt. In
the Paschal Rite I saw Myself, the
grand fulfilment of the type, the Lamb
of God upon the cross of Calvary. In-
deed, My heart was bleeding then. My
one relief, the moment of My perfect

74 GETHSEMANI.

joy, was that in which I gave Myself
to be the food of My redeemed. The
bread I gave them was My Flesh ; the
chalice was My Blood. I was within
them then : My love had found its full
expression. Could God do more ? I
humbly bent Me down and washed the
feet of My disciples. My touch was
tenderness divine. There was never love
like Mine.

Yet time was hastening on. My hour
was fast approaching. The sun had
set. The stars were hidden. The bitter
waters were in waiting for Me. They
were to meet Me in Gethsemani. And
as I turned to face them deadly fear
came over Me. In My chosen place of
prayer, in the garden shades, where
many nights I watched and with My
Father held communion, there I pro-
mised them their full dominion. There
had I unchained the powers of evil,
the spirits of the night. There I cove-

GETHSEMANI. 75

nanted to meet them all alone. Yet,
when I led My little band, and even
from the rest withdrew My chief apos-
tles as a guard around Me, or at least
to watch with Me and grant My break-
ing heart the consolation of their sym-
pathy, I began to fear and tremble.
This dread was not unknown, and yet
for Me it was an agony. This was the
onset of the bitter waters They dashed
upon Me, and I was their sport, as dark-
ness deepened and I cried for loneli-
ness ; and the gloom engulfed Me in its
rayless night.

Child of My passion, thou hast chosen
Me to be thy Spouse: dost thou won-
der that I feared? Let Me tell thee
as I can of this agony of fear. It is
little that My words can speak. There
are no words to paint the horror of that
hour.

I had bidden all created light depart
—the light that cheers the day, the light

76 GETHSEMANI.

that softens all the dread of night. It
was total darkness on My soul, a heavy
weight that pressed me down. And
in this gloom were forms of every
ill ; and every sorrow that has fallen
on the heart of man took shape and
pressed upon Me. Phantoms drear with
demon faces, with the laugh and jeer
of hopeless misery, seemed to touch
Me and oppress Me with their baneful
breath. I heard the wail of every woe
that man has known since Paradise was
closed, and sorrow lifted up its head to
torture and to reign. I felt the reptiles of
the earth as with their slimy fangs they
seemed to crawl upon Me, to dart their
fiery tongues, and sting Me with their
poisoned fangs. No grace of things
created, no form of beauty, filled the
chasm dire wherein I fell ; but horrid
faces gazed upon Me with the look of
hate and scorn. I saw the vast proces-
sion of the lost. The charnel-house

GETHSEMAINTI. 77

wherein their bodies lay corrupted seem-
ed My resting-place. Their mouldering
bones arose to taunt Me with the noises
of the grave and fill my senses with the
odor of the tomb. Spirits disembodied,
full of fire, smoking with the air of hell,
crowded round Me with the curses of
despair. The souls I could not save
were eager to affright Me with their
horrid breath, or touch Me with the
lurid flame that burned within them.
Then came the rebel host of angels fall-
en from their high estate. I let them
loose. " This was their hour ; the power
of darkness." " Their name is legion."
They rushed upon Me with their sable
wings ; the fearful gloom of spirits lost
was like a mantle of corruption cover-
ing Me. They filled the night. I touched
them with convulsive trembling. When
I put out My hands I felt them there.
When I looked within the depths before
Me, I saw them stooping over Me as birds

78 GETHSEMATST.

unclean descend upon their prey. I heard
their curses ringing on the air. Their
thirst of ages for revenge was now to
satiate itself. And I was before them
crushed, and My humanity was broken
by their violence, although I am the
Son of God. Dost thou wonder that I
feared, that My bones were trembling
with the horror of the scene, that My
quaking heart was nigh to death ? Some-
thing of this fear My loved have known
in paths wherein My grace has led
them. But I have never left them in
the gloom alone. A night like Mine
they could not bear and live. When they
have touched the bitter waters I was with
them. When they descended to the vale
of death My angels went before them,
and My hand upheld them in the dark-
ness. Yet I, thy Master and thy God,
was all alone.

Then when the waves of sorrow seem-
ed to close upon Me, and the spirits

GETHSEMAKL 79

of the night were reigning in the deep
that covered Me, I looked upon My
body, thus the sport of every power of
ill, and saw the way to Calvary, the
tortures of the cross. So weak was I
that I could hardly raise My head or
move a limb. The fever of My blood
was burning Me, as the red drops were
pouring out from face and hands and
feet. I saw the marks of the scourge
upon My back ; the crown of thorns
was pressing in My brain. The cruel
nails seemed now to hold Me fast.
The cross was on My bleeding shoulders,
and I was fainting with the load. I
could not walk, and yet My weary way
was all before Me. I said in My dis-
may : 0 sinner ! what art thou doing ?
This is the body of thy God. These
are the hands and feet of God. This
aching, thorn-crowned head is God's.
Can you, do you dare to mutilate it
so? I saw the hill of Calvary. The

80 GETHSEMAKI.

place of skulls with noisome odor
choked My breath. I hung upon My
wounds, slowly bleeding to My death,
and beside Me were the murderers to
fill my dying hours with shame. All
the pains of crucifixion seemed to
come before the time, and nail and
spear transfixed Me as I lay so help-
less on the ground. These fearful
pangs were not too much to satisfy My
yearning love. Within My breast My
heart with its pulsations swift was call-
ing for My baptism. And yet when
all the morrow came before Me, and
every torture one by one I felt, there
surged upon Me like a flood of fire the
horror of an awful fear. God's only Son,
the image of the Father, the brightness
of His glory, to be treated so ! God
made man to be thus despised; to be
mocked and scourged ; as a common
criminal to be crucified !
Then I looked within the soul divine

GETHSEMAJNT. 81

ever gazing on the Father's face, the
heart whose tenderness is but the pity
of the Deity, and upon Me came My
agonies in one. I took the cup of man's
ingratitude and drank it to the dregs.
My heart was open by its love, and here
My enemies had found their mark ; and
where I suffered most, with w^anton
cruelty they plied the arrows of their
hate. I was prostrate on the ground,
and yet I seemed to hang upon the
cross. I heard the mockery which,
with studied insult, followed every
shadow of My face and every throb
of My convulsions. I prayed for their
forgiveness, and the jeer was My re-
sponse. I already tasted vinegar and
gall they pressed upon My parched
and feverish lips. I forgave one mur-
derer who hung beside Me. I was the
king of murderers then. I lost the
other soul. The shadow of My cross,
the privilege to die with Me, were not

82 GETHSEMANI.

enough to save him from the flames of
hell. I saw My priceless Mother, dearer
far to Me than all but God. She
stood beneath My cross in majesty of
woe. It seemed to Me that I had
never loved her as I did then. Beth-
lehem, the desert drear, and Nazareth,
the blessed time when I could lay
My head upon her loving heart, came
back, and the filial tide of love from
God's only Son upon her flowed. Mo-
ther, Mother ! thou canst not know
the fulness of My love for thee. There
is no such love, and God alone can
sound it. I am thy child, it is My
dearest earthly joy. I wear thy fea-
tures, and for all eternity I shall look
like thee. But I am thy God, and
He alone can know how God can love
His Mother. So, when in agony I saw
her tears, and knew her heart was
breaking too, strange was My crush-
ing fear that she, the dearest of ere-

GETHSEMANI. 83

ated things, should suffer with Me ; that
I could never comfort her, nor stay the
death that seemed to lay its pall upon
her, too, and wrap her in its cold em-
brace. My dearest must come near
My cross of pain ; I suffer with them,
but I cannot save them from the chalice
which I drink.

I saw the sorrow of the Magdalen.
Her sobs like arrows pierced My soul.
I had washed her from all stain, but
little did she know the cost to Me.
Watch and wait with loving grief. I
must bear the sins of all who live by
Me.

The disciple of My heart, who drew
his innocence and virgin purity from
Me must learn the lesson that My body
broken and My blood poured out are
now the only food that can preserve
from guilt and purify for heaven.

While I lie so helpless in the agonies
of fear there is another night I feel,

84 GETHSEMANL

whose shadows only touch Me now. I
shall feel the sins of all mankind ; and
as I sink to die, when utter weakness
comes, the sword of Heaven shall smite
Me in My tenderest point. The con-
soling presence of My Father and the
Spirit consubstantial shall forsake Me
when I need it most. Dost thou won-
der that I fear, when before My faint-
ing eyes and trembling heart this chasm
opens wide to close Me in its awful
depths \ Already do I seem to feel the
pains of death. Already do I see the
tomb wherein My cold and lifeless body
shall be laid. There shall I rest as
humbled and as prostrate as if I were
not God.

Now, My child, to whom I open thus
the secrets of My agony, canst thou
stay and watch with Me ? Canst thou
bear the shadows where I tremble so?
Where My soul is filled with horror and
My fear is like to death, canst thou come

GETHSEMANL 85

with Me? Thou canst never know what
I have borne. I love thee far too much
to break thy heart. And yet I yearn to
bring thee to My close embrace, and be
with thee as is the lover with the loved.
I yearn to put My hand upon thy
wounds, to chase the shadows from thy
sky, to wash thee pure from every stain,
to make thee like the crystal mirror
that sends back My light. I would
have thee for My own, where no shade
can come between thee and My love. I
thought of thee when in Gethsemani I
lay so agonized with fear. I have often
feared for thee. I feared to lose thee.
Thou didst wear My ring upon thy
hand, and thou didst call Me Bride-
groom, too. Yet with tears I watched
thee when I saw thee turn to creature
love or rejoice in anything save Me.
I have followed thee when thou wast
forgetting Me and all thy love was not
My own. Thou didst make Me fear in

86 GETH8EMANI.

the garden even of My woe. But now I
hold thee fast. If thou wilt not fear to
stay with Me, the horror that I felt
shall be thy cure. What I have borne
shall not prevail against thee. Watch
and pray, and love Me, too, with all thy
heart. I am thy God. What can harm
thee when I am near? Thy fear shall
bind thee to My heart, and the brighter
shall ascend thy love.

Dearest Lord, I thank Thee for these
words. I tremble as I feel the shadows
which so darkly covered Thee. I will
watch with Thee. I will never leave
Thy side. I could not live if there were
parting now. I am not brave. I know
how weak I am when danger threatens
or the icy waters chill my blood. I
promise nothing but to follow Thee.
Let my days be dark, my nights a vigil
endless, if so I closely cling to Thee.
Yet I beg Thee to prepare my way.
Let my heart be Thine, and when the

GETHSEMANI. 87

path grows drear and sight is gone,
when I can hardly feel, I know that
Thou art near. Jesus, O my only Love !
I watch and wait for Thee. My faith
can never fail ; and if the darkness
seem too great, and mighty waves en-
compass me, my grateful heart shall
hold its love, my voice shall sound Thy
dearest name. Above the waters in their
rage, above the forms of ill, the phan-
toms of the night, the spectres of my
sins, one word shall still my fears, one
word shall sound above the storms.

Jesus, Lord, my love above the depths
ascends to Thee ; I watch, I wait for
Thee.

Meditation Third.

TEE AGONY OF LONELINESS.

MEDITATION THIRD.

THE AGONY OF LONELINESS.

41 He hath led Me and brought Me into darkness, and not into
light. He hath set Me in the dark places, as those that are dead
for ever. Yea, and when I cry, and entreat, He hath shut out
my prayer."— Lamentations iii. 2, 6, 8.

Canst thou watch with Me ? It will
be little for thy love to do, if I am at
thy side, and My hand shall hold thee
up. Dost thou love me well enough to
watch when I shall lead thee into dark-
ness where no light is seen, to the places
drear where I shall hide thee all alone
and then withdraw My consolations ? If
I shall shut out thy prayer, and seem
to go away for ever ; if I let the tempt-
er come to tell thee I am gone, to bid
thee know I love thee not, that I have

91

92 GETHSEMA^I.

given thee to outer darkness, that thou
art no longer Mine ; art thou brave
enough to wait in hope ? When faith
becomes thine only strength, and phan-
tom forms are crowding round thee,
and unearthly voices laugh to scorn
thy confidence, wilt thou then abide ?
Canst thou, the lover of My bleed-
ing heart, abide in seeming exile and
bear something of My agony of loneli-
ness ? Listen, then, and I will tell thee,
as I may, how I suffered in the garden
shades when I was left alone. If it be
hard for thee to bear the faintest sha-
dow of My woe, what thinkest thou
of My sad desolation when, as God, I
stripped Myself of every light, and bade
the creature, animate and inanimate, de-
part, and even hid the rays of My eter-
nal glory, throwing densest clouds be-
tween the heavenly throne and My agon-
izing soul?
If I tell thee something of my lone-

GETHSEMANI. 93

liness, perhaps the thought may cheer
thee when thy trial comes. The mem-
ory of this awful night, the picture of
My prostrate, bleeding form, may give
thee constancy, may make thee even love
to be alone for Me, may help thee in
thy promise to abide and watch with
Me.

When I went down to My Gethsemani
I willed to be alone. I willed to suffer,
and from My bed of agony I shut out
created love ; and even of the fire that
burned so brightly in few faithful hearts,
even of the love divine of the Father
and the Spirit, I made a tortuye, for
I barred it out. When God made man
willeth desolation, can any finite spirit
sound its depths ?

The love of the inanimate creation
came not near Me in that hour. The
earth put on a sable pall and seemed
to cast Me from its bosom. It trembled
as I touched it, as if some horror had

94 GETHSEMANI.

possessed its depths. The voice ot warn-
ing came from caverns of the sea ; from
the caves within the mountains on whose
threatening brow the frown of anger
seemed to settle down. The trees stood
still and drooped their sorrowing branch-
es, as if there were no life to move
them now, as if cold death had seized
them in their prime. It was not winter's
frost, it was not decay, but sudden
stoppage of the power of life. The flow-
ers, whose smile was ever sweet, now
fell as withered on their stems as if some
palsied hand had crushed them in its
grasp. The light rejoicing in My pre-
sence, and imaging to created things
My glory, seemed extinguished. " The
sun was turned to darkness, and the
moon to blood." The stars were hid-
den in the vault of heaven, as if there
were no light, as if the night of chaos
had renewed its reign of horror.
The ranks of myriad life retreated from

GETHSEMAKX. 95

the exiled Son of God. *The beasts were
hidden in their dens, appalled with fear.
The birds, whose tuneful song exults in
light, were nestling in the forest shades,
as if the terror of some mighty power
had struck them dumb. Upon the
darkness piled around Me as a solid
mass no hum of insect life arose to tell
me that a living thing was moving near
Me. I was hidden in the caverns drear
of that which seemed a universal death.
Down, down I sank as if to endless
depths, where billows of the mighty
ocean rolled above Me. The angels of
My court, who always watched around
My steps, were bidden to depart. I
would not let them come within my
living sepnlchre. Unwillingly did they
retreat, and stood with drooping wings
beyond the clouds that covered Me. The
valiant prince who leads the armies of
My Father bowed his head and sheathed
his sword. And Gabriel, guardian of

96 GETHSEMAtfl.

My Mother ana of My humanity, passed
away with trembling voice, wThile Ra-
phael had no place within the garden
where his King lay bleeding. I shut out
their loving hearts, the blessed peace of
their intelligence, and even would not
think of seraph voices raised in adora-
tion pure, nor hear the notes of their ce-
lestial song. I bade them stand in si-
lence. Even in high heaven I hushed
the canticles of joy.

And of those whom I redeemed, the
men whose nature I had taken, the fel-
lows of My race, there were none to
comfort Me. The few whose hearts
were aching for Me were away, shut
out by My own will. My Blessed Mo-
ther would have come, but I loved
her far too much to bring her here.
I could not crucify her soul before
the time, and so I saw her in her
agony as far from me she watched
and prayed. I would not think of her

GETHSEMANI. 97

within this awful hour, for her anguish
filled My cup, and as I drank it down
how could her breaking heart console
me ? If she had seen My sweat of blood
and touched My agonizing head, or knelt
beside Me on the ground, she might have
fallen crushed. She might have died
beside Me, and the angels would have
rushed unbidden to her aid. I could
not have held them back. No ! I felt
her fearful woe, the anguish of her pre-
cious soul; I would not let her touch
this chalice. I would drink it all alone.
I called for My disciples, and I beg-
ged them to remain with Me. Some
fearful gloom appalled them, and the sad-
ness of the day had wearied them. The
baptism of their blood could not pre-
cede the Pentecostal flood of fire. The
traitor was hastening on his way to seize
Me for Mine enemies, to betray Me with
his kiss. The eleven were overcome
with sleep. They had heard Me warn

98 GETHSEMA1SX

them of approaching death. They had
feasted on the body and the blood which
on the morrow should be shed. And
yet far away from Me, as if forget-
ting all My sorrows, they were sleep-
ing. I took the three apostles whom I
Jed to Thabor's height to see My glory.
I asked them to draw nearer to My
great humiliation, to see how low the
Son of God could lie. They were so dear
to Me I did not fear to try them in My
lonely hour of woe. Even they could
sleep. I saw the unconscious form of
James, the heavy eyes of Peter, and
even the exhausted face of John. Three
times I begged them with My tears to
wake and speak to Me. I could not
rouse them from their sleep.

And yet, had they waked, what con-
solation could they bring, when I was
bleeding for them, feeling all their fu-
ture suffering, their fires of martyrdom ;
and when My strength was failing

GETHSEMANI. 99

that I might give it all to them?
They could have offered Me their sym-
pathy when I was so forsaken and so
sad. It might have added to the bur-
den which was crushing Me, to see
their tears ; and yet the offering had
been grateful to My love.

I read the souls of men — those who
kill Me on the morrow, those who
called Me friend, from whose hearts
or homes I chased the gloom of sorrow
or of sin. There was no comfort in the
sight. There was hypocrisy, a false pro-
fession, or a selfish love. They loved
Me for My benefits. Few love Me for
Myself. This sight but added to My
loneliness, and so I closed My eyes and
bowed My head upon the ground, which,
if it feared Me in My sorrow, did not
hate Me, did not deceive Me with false
words. I even kissed the grass so moist-
ened with My blood, that it gave Me
shelter in My grief and did not re-

100 GETHSEMAKI.

fuse Me rest or rudely cast aside My
tears.

To make My desolation full of bitter-
ness the evil spirits crowded round Me,
and I bade them come. Their chains
were loosed to do their worst against
Me, to torment Me with their scorn, to
oppress My soul with their malignant
hate. Their movements were appalling
to My every sense ; their breath was
baneful, their words were wounding to
My honor, and their fiery eyes were
flashing on Me like the meteors of the
night. I was not in hell, and yet the
flames of hell were burning, in their
hearts, and the smoke of fires eternal
filled the heavily laden air. I was worse
than exiles far from home, with enemies
around Me ; and the awful loneliness of
spirits lost was weighing on Me. I, the
Son of God, the brightness of the Fa-
ther's face, by all created things de-
serted, save only by the powers of hell,

GETHSEMANI. 101

exulting in their hour of seeming vic-
tory.

I have a deeper anguish now to tell thee
of. I know not if thy mind canst under-
stand My words. If thou art My child
lift up thy voice and pray. Close thine
eyes to all created sights, thine ears to all
created sounds, and listen while the Eter-
nal Spirit prays with thee. My Father
then withdrew from Me the smile which
ever held Me up in all My great humili-
ations. I saw His face as on it man-
tled the dread clouds of vengeance. He
drew the sword divine to smite Me as
if I were not His Son. He turned from
Me as if His anger kindled at My sight
and were to spend itself on Me, so help-
less and so crushed. I cried, " Father,
Father, is it Thou? Is this the tempest
of Thy wrath to break on Thy co-equal
Son?" I could not see, for blindness
overcame Me, and I fell as one dead.
There was no relenting then. Upon

102 GETHSEMANI.

My breaking heart, My bleeding form,
the everlasting sword came down. Oh !
it has power to pierce, to slay, to sepa-
rate the soul from its material frame,
to crush the body, and to penetrate the
springs of life and thought.

I looked upward to the throne where
amid the Cherubim am I adored. A
night of more than mortal gloom hung
between Me and the sceptre of My
everlasting reign. The Paraclete pro-
ceeding from Me in the eternal act of
love had hid His face, and desolation
drear was sinking on My soul, then strug-
gling for the breath of life. No rays of
mercy came ; no beams of warmth to
cheer My freezing heart. The Spirit
held the clouds of wrath between Me
and the throne. I bore the weight of
justice fierce proceeding from the sanc-
tity of God. For sinners was I dying,
and with sinners I must take My place,
and in My agonizing soul and crushed

GETHSEMA1STI. 103

humanity bear their punishment, and as
the chief of criminals must feel the ha-
tred of the Infinite for sin.

And with the Father and the Holy
Ghost My will moved freely in that
awful night. I wrought with them
their work of wrath on Me. I put
from My humanity, in this direst hour,
the consoling rays of My divinity, and
as God I plunged My manhood in the
depths of gloom. My Godhead's cheer-
ing power I turned, that it should mag-
nify My deep humiliation ; and the
voice of My divinity but told Me of
the wrath divine, and made Me feel, as
none but God could feel, the wounds in-
flicted by His hand upon the body and
the soul in union everlasting with the
person of the Word. The great humilia-
tion of God's Son could be measured
by the Infinite alone. So while con-
solation could not come, I bowed My-
self beneath the lash of vengeance, and,

104 GETHSEMANI.

with, the Father and the Holy Ghost,
I moved upon the waste of woe and
plunged beneath the depths of wrath,
that I might be indeed alone. And
here, My child, My words must cease.
I can speak no more. God alone can
follow Me within the awful caverns of
the deep. This agony of loneliness is
far beyond the reach of intelligence cre-
ated. Even love redeemed, love spring-
ing from My bleeding heart, love formed
and nurtured in My breast, can never
pierce these clouds nor be with Me with-
in this veil where I, as God, descend to
suffer and to bear the burden of the
world's offence against the majesty di-
vine. Thy love would bid thee dare to
follow Me ; but it were vain to try.
Where angels cannot come, where My
spotless Mother stands in awe, where
the thunders of a broken law and ter-
rors of avenging Deity are voices from
the throne, the child so near My heart

GETHSEMANI. 105

must kneel away, or only touch the out-
line of the distant cloud.

And yet I love thy sympathy. I yearn
for perfect union with thee. My tender-
ness for thee is far above thy sight.
Come close to Me and follow Me with
fear. I am a jealous lover, reading all
thy thoughts. If I call thee to the
shadows of Gethsemani, if there I leave
thee all alone, it is the proof of My
espousals. There before the day shall
dawn, before the nuptial joys be thine,
I teach thee of thy spouse. I open to
thy love the wonders of My grace. I
purify thee from the stains of every
sin. I empty thee of self. I teach thee
thine own nothingness, and make the
night profound, until I come alone
with morning beams to claim thee as
My own, to press thee to My breast,
to tell thee of the crown prepared
for thee. From loneliness there cometh
joy. My saints shall welcome thee ;

106 GETHSEMAXI.

the fulness of My love shall fill thee
with the bliss of heaven. Take cour-
age, then, if thou art lonely ; know that
I am leading thee. I prove thy faith.
" Canst thou stay one hour and watch
with Me?" If I break the ties of earth
and take from thee the bonds that
bind thee to the creature ; if I make
of thine affections sources strong and
deep of sorrow ; if all that thou couldst
lean upon shall fall beneath thee, and
the silent grave shall bury all thy
loves, canst thou bear the desolation?
Art thou willing to be alone with Me?
If the voice that led thee to My arms,
and taught thee of the treasures hid in
Me, is stilled within the tomb ; if there
are none around thee that can feel the
meaning of thy words and deeds ; if
the gentleness of sympathy be turned
to cold indifference, and for wasted
strength and love there come ingrati-
tude; and the waters that were sweet

GETHSEMAjNT. 107

be turned to bitterness, wilt thou re-
pine or murmur at My ways with thee ?
If even from the sanctuary I expel the
light, and darkness shrouds the bless-
ings of My sacramental throne; if even
when I give Myself to thee in highest
acts of love thy heart is heavy, and
desolation dwells where faith alone lifts
up its light ; if thou canst not raise
one thought of home, and seemest far
from Mine embrace, an exile from the
sweetness thou hast known, and call-
est to thy side in vain the saints who
once protected thee, or angels of My
court with whom thou once didst live ;
wilt thou complain or think Me cruel
to thee? If I do more than this,
and seem to leave thee as if I loved
thee not, go far away when loneliness
has reached its height, and let thee
weep and yearn for Me ; canst thou
then abide in faith ? Will the waters of
thy desert chill thy love, and wilt thou

108 GETHSEMAKI.

turn away and count the cost of thine
espousals to a King who crucified Him-
self to reign in bleeding hearts? Wilt
thou cry : 4 ' Dearest Lord, I came to
watch with Thee ; I promised to abide
for ever at Thy side, and for Thy love
I have forsaken all ; I have naught but
Thee, and now Thou leavest me ! I did
not promise to abide alone, I cannot
bear the night where Thou art not.
My heart will break, and I shall die of
loneliness. I was watching with Thee,
and now I am in dreariness to die,
watching I know not what, I know not
where, in places desolate where I can
neither see, nor hear, nor feel" ? Shall
this be all thy courage now, when once
thy heart did seek to go within the
Olive shades and ask to follow Me?
Dost thou only walk by sight? Must
thou see and hear to know that I am
near ? Thou didst leave all, but didst
thou leave thyself? Wilt thou direct

GETHSEMAKI. 109^

Me in the ways I lead, or think that I
am not within the cloud? It were well
to realize that I am God, that I alone
must reign, that in the souls I gather to
My heart My will must rule omnipotent.
In these deep shades self-will shall die
and I will prove thy faith. Is it My
grace thou seekest, or is it Me?

By the pain of seeming parting, by
the dreariness of exile, I am washing
out thy stains. I cannot lift thee to
My side and before My saints espouse
thee until thy heart is dead to all but
Me, until thou canst not will the light,
the rest from pain, the consolations of
My face, if I thy Master choose for
thee the night. Thou must put thy
hands in Mine and ask for nothing but
My will. In this Gethsemani thy pride
shall fall for ever, thy subtle love of
self, the vain complacency that counts
My gifts as if they were thine own, and
takes for courage and heroic love the

110 GETHSEMAKI.

sweetness that I grant to draw thee to
the death that comes before the dawn,
the morning of the new life. If thou
art taken at thy word, wilt thou re-
pine ? If the Olive shades are dark be-
yond thy thought ; then remember Me
when so desolate I lay upon the crim-
soned turf, thy God in utter loneliness,
whose aching heart sent forth its blood
from every pore ; when night divine
o'er whelmed Me, and I cried: uO Fa-
ther ! must I drink this cup ? Not My
will but Thine be done." No night like
Mine shall fall upon thee. No cup like
Mine shall touch thy lips. Believe Me,
I will never leave thee. In the thickest
darkness I am nearest thee ; and when
thy loneliness seems worse than death
I am unseen beside thee, watching well
thine every thought, coming closer to
thy side, proving to My Father and His
saints thy constancy. The shadows
chase the shadows, and the clouds dis-

OETHSEMAKI. Ill

pel the gloom. The darkness that I
send casts out the shades of earth, and
the natural shall flee before the touch
of God. Where nature dies there I
shall live. If thou hast faith and wilt
abide and learn to love the ways of
grace, I teach thee lessons which the
fearful never know. I can reveal My-
self to thee and show thy yearning
love the depths of tenderness within My
breast. I can embrace thee. I can love
thee as I will. I can put My heart in
thine, and thine in Mine. Only fear not
in the cloud ; thou dost not see, but
I am looking in thy face ; thou dost
not feel, but I am holding fast thy
hands ; thou dost not hear My voice,
but I am speaking of thy love in sweetest
tones unto My Father and the Spirit. I
am telling to the angel choirs of nuptials
that shall come, and bidding them pre-
pare the festal joys. They are watch-
ing in the lonely gloom ; they wait to

112 GETHSEMANI.

comfort thee when morning dawns. I
never loved thee more. I see thee
true to Me in thy Gethsemani, and now
I know thy heart is Mine. Blessed
death to self and sense, that leads to
life with Me. Blessed agony of loneli-
ness, that opens wide the door of hea-
ven, that leads thee to the company of
saints, the home where loving arms of
God shall hold thee fast for ever. There
the nuptial chant shall sound, the sha-
dows melt in uncreated light, and above
the swelling song be heard the voices of
the Bridegroom and the Bride.

Meditation Fourth.

THE AGONY OF SADNESS.

MEDITATION FOURTH.

THE AGONY OF SADNESS.

"My soul is sorrowful, even unto death.1'— St. Matthew
xxvi. 38.

I am listening, dearest Lord ; the ten-
der tones have moved me so that I am
full of grief. Some shadows of Thy
loneliness oppress me, that my tears are
prayers. The night is full of gloom;
but I am watching near Thee, and I
love Thee so because Thy words reveal
to me Thyself. Thou dost speak to one
like me, as lover to his friend. Oh !
so precious are these treasures of Thine
hours of grief. Thou hast called me
child, and opened to my longing love
Thine heart so infinitely sweet. Thou

115

116 GETHSEMAKT.

hast called me to Thy side and bidden
me to stay.

I feel Thine agony, but I know not
what it is. I feel Thee, and only Thee.
All else is gone. I hardly know myself,
who I am, or whence I come. The earth
itself seems far away. I know not if
there be a sun, or if the stars that gild
the firmament are moving in their courses.
I have forgotten creatures ; and the faces
I have known are strange to me. I have
no memory ; I have no past ; I have no
future. One thing I know — my Jesus
in His agony is here. I see only Him;
I hear His voice alone. I feel naught
but Him. All is Jesus, and Jesus is
my All.

And now an awful fear comes over
me. My blessed Love is suffering more.
He has not told me all. He lies more
prostrate on the ground. He moves
convulsively with pain. The blood is
gushing in new torrents from His face

GETHSEMAKI. 117

and hands. Dearest Master, tlie mid-
night of Thy woe is not yet come.
Thou art more sad. There is a heavier
weight upon Thy breast, and Thy dear
face betrays an awful struggle in Thy
heart. I see deep dejection and a sad-
ness overwhelming Thee. There is one
expression in Thy prostrate form, in
Thy hands and limbs and feet, in Thy
royal head which lies so low. It is the
language of a broken heart. O my
Jesus ! is there none to comfort Thee ;
is there no ray of joy to pierce this
gloom ; no memory that can rest Thy
soul ; no sight to soothe the anguish
of Thy blood-stained eyes? One voice
comes up to me. Thou dost not speak,
and yet I hear. I feel the words that
rise to me as from the crimsoned ground
Thy lips are moving to the cry of sad-
ness inexpressible. "My soul is tasting
sorrow to its most awful possibility. It
is like to death ; it is worse than death.

118 GETHSEMAKI.

If I were not God I should now die
witli agony."

Dearest Master, may I speak ? May
Thy loving though unworthy child
draw near Thee in this hour ? Canst
Thou tell me of this sadness over-
whelming Thee? May one like me dare
look within the deeps that seem to
swallow Thee and from Thy soul di-
vine shut out the rays of light ? I
know I cannot follow Thee, nor ever
penetrate the caverns drear where God
alone descends ; but may I hear a little
of Thy woe? If my sympathy could
reach Thee now, it seems that I would
offer Thee my life. Yet I dare not say
one word, I am so weak, inconstant,
and so fearful in the face of danger.
Oh ! let my weakness cry to Thee ; only
let me love Thee, and I will ask no
more.

Then there was silence like the utter
death of sound. There was not a move-

GETHSEMANI. 119

ment that could tell me there was life.
It might have been an hour ; it seemed
an age. I could plead no more. In the
stillness deep I neither moved a limb or
feature. I hardly thought. My Mas-
ter was in close communion with me,
and I felt these words, which seemed
to be within me and yet to come from
Him. There was an awful nearness to
my Love, while shadows of His heart
encompassed me until I seemed to lose
my life in His.

Child, whom I have called to watch
with Me, whose love hath ventured here
within the shades whence even angels
fled, dost thou see Me sinking, sinking
far away from thee? Wouldst thou
know the sadness that prostrates Me
now? Wouldst thou see the drops
which from my chalice I am drinking
here ? I know not if My struggling
soul can speak to thee as in grief in-
tense it poureth out its life and sinks

120 GETHSEMANI.

beneath a flood of woe. I am sad : there
is no other word. Hast thou known sor-
row ? Have the ties which bound thy
heart been snapped in twain ? Has
earth been desolate to thee ? Has the
created light seemed ever mockery to
increase thy darkness? Hast thou been
laid beneath a cross whose weight was
crushing thee, till joy seemed dead before
the open grave of all thy hopes? This
is grief, perhaps; but sadness shows a
deeper pang. Indeed a grave is here ;
the springs of life are quenched, decay
is reigning in its blight; where phan-
tom faces mock the tears that fall, and
cruel voices tell of hopes extinguished,
of loves departed, buried where no morn-
ing comes. Around, above, beneath is
blackness ; while on the heart there lies
a weight no power can raise. It is
crushing down ; and with it life and
hope and joy are sinking in the deep
abyss. The tears would fall. The heart

GETHSEMANI. 121

would struggle with convulsive sobs; the
breast would pant for breath. But what
are signs like these ? They are the lan-
guage of a wrestling with our woe. That
sadness is the deepest where the avenues
of sense seem turned to stone, and our
intelligence is dumb, as if a prisoner in
a living tomb.

Have I told thee of a sadness thou
hast known % Have I touched the strings
whose quick response reveals the mem-
ory of anguish known to God, of which
thou hast no words? Then let remem-
brance help thee to the knowledge
of My grief. Thou hast suffered as a
creature. I have suffered as a God.
Thy heart is finite and hath known the
taint of sin. My heart is God's, the
resting-place of His great tenderness,
the home of love divine. Its birthright
is the Father's face with all the bliss of
deity. The rays that shine within it are
the light that dwells upon the throne.

122 GETHSEMANI.

If the sadness crushes thee, what
must that awful sorrow be which pros-
trates thy God, and weighs Him down
until His mighty arm seems paralyzed,
and the Creator weeps and struggles
with a sweat of blood ?

I cannot tell thee of the drops with-
in the chalice of My agony. To the
Father and the Spirit My broken heart
is open. It rises to the pity and the
justice of the Deity. I tell thee all I
may, and even more than thou canst
understand. Pray the mighty Spirit to
inspire thee, to touch the powers of
thine intelligence, and in the future
days to bring these precious revelations
to thy loving memory.

I was bending under the dread hand
of God. I was the Lamb of sacrifice.
The cruel death before Me was My
choice. The knife was in the Father's
hand to slay His Son. He could not
shrink back nor fail to make the work

GETHSEMA1NT. 123

complete. This was the moment of the
ages. The hour had come. The Lamb
was ready and His breast was bared.
No wonder that the Lamb was deso-
late, led out to slaughter, none to pity,
none to spare. But that the knife
might find Him ready, and go down to
pierce the tenderest heart, the face of
God must be averted and anger dwell
where love eternal sprang. He was
as if the sinner in whose place He
stood. The justice of the Trinity beheld
Him not as the co equal Word. Sins
clothed Him as a garment then — the
sins of every age, of every heart. The
sins of every sense and limb crept over
Him, like noisome reptiles turning
round, until they hid His face, and He
seemed to see but sin, to hear but sin,
to taste but sin, to feel but sin. No
crime too vile to come and lay its
weight upon Him now ! The days be-
fore the flood were here ; the days of

124 GETHSEMAKI.

Sodom and Gomorrah ; the days of base
idolatry, when vice itself was made a
god; the days of Israel's fall and final
ruin ; the days of heresy and separa-
tion from the ark of God, His body
mystical. Sins of the intelligence and
will, crimes that called to Heaven for
vengeance, vices of the passions in their
dark pollution — all were laid on Him,
and as a filthy robe were wound around
Him. He could hardly recognize His
limbs and senses as the members of
the incarnate Son. And with their
drear pollution and the crimson stream
of guilt there came the wretchedness of
wasted grace, the stings of deep re-
morse, the tortures of the undying
worm. The miseries of broken hearts,
the death of souls, the dire corruption
of the grave where %sin in all its foul-
ness reigns, were all upon Him. Where
He had made an Eden fair, there came
an earth defiled, the vale of sorrow and

GETHSEMANL 125

the home of bitterness. No crime of
thought, or word, or hand, or deed which
did not bear its weight on Him. All
sins and griefs of man were burdens of
His heart. Wonderest thou that He lay
prostrate and could scarcely rise beneath
the load?

I am speaking of Myself ; for as I
looked upon My body crushed and
soul afflicted, I seemed as if another,
the victim of My love for God, standing
in the persons of the sinners vile whose
wounds I bore, bruised and marred and
all unlike the brightness of the Father's
image. So spoke the Spirit as the eter-
nal Three in One beheld this scene, and
the Lamb in helplessness before them.

"Who can believe the fearful story?
To whom is known the arm of God,
the Consubstantial Word? There is no
beauty here, nor comeliness. We have
seen him, and, alas ! there was no sight-
liness. Who would desire Him ? De-

126 GETHSEMA1ST.

spised of all, He is of men the most ab-
ject. Sorrows and infirmity are all His
daily life. He hath the look of one
contemned ; who could esteem Him ?
He wears the face and form of lepers
struck by God and heavily afflicted.
His wounds are wounds of others' sins ;
His bruises are the blows of others'
crimes ; He is bearing punishment for
man's iniquities, while on His bleeding
heart is laid the weight of all transgres-
sion. It was His will to be the sacri-
fice. The Lamb of God lies dumb, and
unresistingly is led to slaughter."*

My child, for whom I suffered so, I
would that I could tell thee of this agony
while thus the burden of the world's
transgressions crushed Me to the earth.
God alone can feel the depth of My hu-
miliation. The Infinite alone can know
the shame and guilt of sin, and tremble
at its awful nearness. And in My grief I

* Isaias liii. 1-7.

GETHSEMAKI. 127

seemed to touch the lowest and the vilest,
souls I could not save, who only mocked
My sweat of blood and called Me weak,
or in their derision laughed that God
should suffer or become a victim sacri-
ficed by His own will, when, without the
pangs of death, He might have saved
the sinner if He would. Hell with lurid
flames arose before Mine eyes ; the sin-
less lake of pain was near Me. I wres-
tled with the demons in their frantic
rage, and spirits lost were jeering at My
useless woe.

I felt the sins of Mine elect, the weak-
ness of My saints, the guilt of those I
love, for whom My heart was giving
out its blood. Had I not bowed so low,
had I not touched the chalice, w^here
had been the throng of virgin^ and the
white-robed army of the martyrs ? How
in darkest places of the earth could pu-
rity have gleamed or innocence have lift-
ed up its torch ? How could the stain of

128 GETHSEMAOT.

crime be washed away, and Eden come
again to new-born souls ? Alas ! My
blood must flow ; and that it gain full
power to cleanse the vile, and turn the
springs polluted into founts of life and
light, My heart must send it forth with
all the vigor of a God. And now, My
loving child, fear not, do not despair.
I will tell thee how I bore thy sins ;
how every thought and word and deed
of thine inconstancy to Me were like
the poisoned spears to wound Me in
My tenderest point, to touch the foun-
tains of My love for thee, to press upon
the veins of thy Beloved and make
them bleed ! Yes, I wept for thee. Thou
wast not always wholly Mine. And if
I had not suffered to this sweat of blood,
how could I have brought thee back from
wanderings strange and creature snares,
and laid thee on My shoulders bare and
bruised, and then have looked thee in
the face with tearful eyes ; have made

GETHSEMANI. 129

thee love Me, and have taught thee
what I am, the sweetness of My hearts
Weep, my child ; here let thy tears run
down with Mine. It needed this Greth-
semani to win thee to My side. Behold
Me here so low, so sad, for thee. I am
prostrate here that thou mayest rise,
with thy lamps new lighted, ready for
the nuptial rite, the hour of thine es-
pousals to a bleeding King. So gladly
I this burden bear, and even pray the
bitter waters to submerge Me in their
depths ; I touch the limits of a sad-
ness reaching far beyond the bounds of
things created, that I may make thee glad
in that new life which springeth from
the fountains of My blood.

And while I lay beneath this burden
of the world's transgression, of every
human misery, of every grief that man
can know, I looked upon My humanity
and trembled at the sight. This great-
est work of God, this body framed of

130 GETHSEMAIST.

Mary's virgin blood, this soul resplen-
dent with, the light of deity — where were
they now % Where was the brightness of
the Father5 s image ; where the beauty
which had ravished all the angel choirs ;
where the might of God's right Arm;
where the power of the unconquerable
Word? So ill My visage seemed, so
bruised My form, that I was hardly man ;
much less did I appear as God. Oh! it
tilled My soul with sadness crushing all
My life to look upon Myself and feel the
depth to which God's only Son had
sunk. I was indeed despised, cast out by
man, a leper bending 'neath the wrath of
heaven. The sight appalled the Cheru-
bim and Seraphim, whose tearful eyes
were turned away. They looked from
My humiliation to the throne. The cloud
had passed before them. The uncreated
rays were hid. There was no word to tell
them why their King lay thus, His hea-
venly purple dragged in mire, without an

GETHSEMAM. 131

angel for His guard, the most abject of
all created tilings.

And then I drew Me to the hearts I
love, the virgin souls whom I was making
pure, the saints who followed Me within
these awful shades and to the watch on
Calvary. I saw their sins effaced, their
stains made clean, their chains set free ;
I was bearing on My broken heart their
burden drear, which never on their souls
should fall ; I was bound, and they were
free. And yet I could not keep the
waters of affliction from them, nor hold
back the spear that pierced Me through
and through from touching them. It
made Me sad to see them suffer so. I
counted all their tears ; I treasured up
their pains. They were the purchase of
My cross. They suffered for My love,
and where the hurt was deep and heart
recoiled, they thought of Me and blessed
the hour of their companionship with
Jesus in the garden of His grief. I loved

132 GETHSEMANI.

them so for their fidelity to Me in sha-
dows dire where every creature help had
failed. I saw their straining eyes, as
with the tears of gratitude they searched
for Me, and through the olive-trees their
cry was heard: " Jesus, Master, let me
come to Thee!" It was I, indeed, who
suffered then, and in them endured.

The Martyrs in their crimson robes all
passed before Me. I saw their pangs,
the fearful fires, the cruel sword, the
rack, the scourge, the nails. I felt their
long and awful deaths, where angels with
the crown of life were watching all their
wrestlings with the torture, and palms
of glory waited for them. While I lay
there as if unconscious in My agony, My
heart was giving them My strength, My
fortitude was theirs, and I was drinking
in my chalice sad the blood they shed
for Me. I saw My loved ones in that
hour, and every weight that ever rested
on their hearts was bearing down on Me.

GETHSEMA1STI. 133

My apostles dear, so soon to die ; My
priests ; confessors in their strength of
faith— they passed before Me one by one.
For each there was a tear, for each a por-
tion in My woe.

I saw My Church, My body mystical,
encompassed round with fire and sword,
its long career the record of My griefs. I
was its image as I lay there so low. There
was the body of the Word, the Second
Adam thus discomfited ; the sacred ta-
bernacle of the Lord, the ark of safety
from the flood. No blows that struck
the Church were half so fierce as those
that rained on Me ; no oppression of the
home of Grod on earth was half so crush-
ing as the weight which fell upon the
eternal Son of God, as in Grethsemani
He lay alone without a solace, desolate
and sad, in battle where it seemed the
arm of the Omnipotent had failed, and
devils led their conquering hosts to tram-
ple on Him in His dire defeat.

134 GETHSEMANI.

There was another woe. And when
I look upon it as it came to crush Me,
I am so sad that I can hardly speak.
You know a little of My love, a little
of the depth divine of tenderness that
dwells in Me ; you know how dear to Me
are souls whom I espouse, whose hearts
I lead to nuptial joys and take within
My glad embrace. Oh ! what you know
is little of the truth. I am sweetness
infinite, love that hath no bounds, and
when I clasp a soul within My arms,
they are the mighty arms of God.

Could I tell you how I love My Mo-
ther blest, My priceless one, My dearest
treasure in this vale of tears? Ah! I tell
it not to angels listening in the wonder
of their high intelligence. She far ex-
cels their brightness ; and the rays that
clothe her soul, proceeding from the
throne, are telling to the Father and the
Spirit of My love for her. The mighty
Trinity bows down to hear the story,

GETHSEMAlSri. 135

and the Three in One rejoice and call
her Queen. Yet lift up thy heart, my
child, and look beyond the powers of
sense. I owe thee to My Mother; she
hath prayed for thee. She brought thee
to My side. Her blessed hands have
led thee to My home. They held thee
up when first I looked on thee and heard
her say, " Behold my child and Thine."
I know thou lovest her with all the
tenderness I gave to thee. If I did not
see thee in her arms, I could not be
Thine. No child can find a place within
My nuptial halls but those My Mother
brings with her sweet smile. Then,
from thy love to her, lift up thy soul
and think what she must be to Me. f

I saw her in this night of woe as in
her home she knelt and watched and
prayed. I saw her sighs, I heard her
sobs, I felt the anguish of her heart.
Her soul was near to Mine, never nearer
than within this fearful hour. I looked

136 GETHSEMANI.

upon her blessed face, and how I loved
that face the Three in One alone can
know. The eyes that ever sought My
gaze with more than mother's love were
red with tears. The lines of agony were
written where the uncreated beauty dwelt.
Her precious hands were pale and cold,
and moved as if convulsively in prayer.
She fell with Me, and when I fainted,
she was prostrate too. I felt the beat-
ings of her heart responsive to My
grief: it panted for the breath of life.
Oh ! how I loved her then ! My child,
there are no words to tell my grief.
I yearned to take her in My arms, to
call her by her dearest name, to drive
from her the clouds away, and lift the
pall which covered her bright soul. Yet
that dark pall could not be raised. She
was My own, My Mother dear, with
love for Me that reached the bounds
of all created strength. When I must
suffer, could I say to her, " Mother, think

GETHSEMANI. 137

no more of Me ; sorrow not when I am
passing through My agony" \ This
had hurt her heart and wounded deep
the tenderest feelings of her soul. She
must be with Me in pain, for in-
deed our hearts are one. I could not
bring her here. This were too much for
her and Me. She feels the struggles of
my soul; she feels the drops of blood
as one by one they cover me with this
My crimson robe. I would not let her
see this sweat of blood, this awful weak-
ness of her child. Enough has she to
bear when I shall meet her on My
way to Golgotha, the cross upon My
shoulders, treading in My blood.
Enough to follow Me to Calvary, to
stand beneath Me when My dying hour
* shall come, and let My failing eyes drink
in her parting look of love. Yet, oh !
how sad I was to feel her woes ! It al-
most killed Me to behold her grief.
Down in the crimsoned ground I hid

138 GETHSEMANI.

Mine eyes, and sighed as if for death.
0 cruel, cruel sin that crucifies a God
and must crucify the Mother too ! My
child, my heart is broken now. I
say no more. I cannot speak. Oh !
leave Me with the earth on which I lie
alone. Here let Me weep and here give
out My blood. God knows My loneli-
ness. To Him I need not speak.

And if you truly love your broken-
hearted King, then speak no more. It
is the hour of silence, through the earth ;
in heaven. Go kneel and pray. Never
can I break your heart as sin has bro-
ken Mine.

Meditation Fifth.

THE AGONY OF PAIN.

MEDITATION FIFTH.

TEE AGONY OF PAIN.

"Tribulation is very near: there is none to help Me. I am
poured out like water. My heart is become like wax melting
in the midst of My bowels. My strength is dried up like a pot-
sherd, and My tongue hath cleaved to my jaws, and Thou hast
brought Me down to the dust of death. They have dug My
hands and feet; they have numbered all my bones." — Psalm xxi.
12-17.

When thus my Master ceased to
speak, and begged for solitude to ease
His grief, my soul was still. It was
not alone the stillness of the senses.
It was an awful stillness of my soul.
I cannot tell of this, for it was not an
earthly silence. My being seemed no
more my own ; and all my conscious-
ness was lost in Him who, lying there,
upheld me that I could be still. Did I

141

142 GETHSEMANI.

pray ? Tell me, angel guide, oh ! was it
prayer? I sent my heart to watch be-
side my prostrate Lord, and I was so
sad that I cannot speak of it. Ah ! sad-
ness is no word. There is no word.
There is a language deep which hath
no signs. Bitter was the hour, too bit-
ter far for utterance. One thing alone
I knew : my Jesus was before me. My
weeping Love was lying there. I felt
Him ; I had no other sense. I suffered,
but I know not how. I dare not say it,
yet I seemed to suffer there with Him.
Could this be true for one like me?
Did I really grieve with Him? Was I
then so near to Him that He could
make me partner of His woe?

Then, while I suffered so, and tears
like rain ran down, and new affection
for my dearest Lord was filling up my
bursting heart, I was awakened to the
sense of life. I looked before me, and
the darkness was more dense. I put

GETHSEMANI. 143

out my trembling Hands, and, like one
blind, I seemed to touch the cloud that
as a wall surrounded me. My ears
alone had life, and took the place of
every other sense. From the earth there
came a voice. I knew the tones. Even
in their deathlike feebleness no tones
but His could move me from that still-
ness where my lips seemed closed for
ever. *

O my Blessed Love ! is it indeed Thy
voice? And wilt Thou speak to me
again ? I know, I feel, Thy fearful
agony has yet not reached its height.
Canst Thou tell me more? If I may
hear another word my grateful soul shall
praise Thee in eternity. May I listen
while the shadows deepen and the cloud
is heavy on Thee ? I would know all I
can. I only ask for love, because Thou
art so dear to me. Nearer am I to Thee
now than I ever hoped to be. I fear I
am too bold ; and yet I bless these aw-

144 GETHSEMAHL

ful hours. Could I have known Thee in
Thy depth of tenderness, if I had not
known this darkness of Gethsemani?

Child of My sorrows, espoused to Me
in blood, I love to speak to thee ; I
love to tell thee of the burden which I
bear. I am bearing it for thee, and I
am loving thee with every pain. Each
sharp agony unites My soul to thine.
Each awful pang but brings Me closer
to thy heart, and gives Me right to fold
thee to My breast. Let Me tell Thee of
My pain. The cloud of sadness that
oppressed My soul as if the bands of
death had bound Me is here lifted up.
I am suffering tortures new at every
breath, and yet my heart is more at ease.
I will reveal to thee an agony whose
sharpness is relief from that depres-
sion darker than the night of chaos
when the Spirit moved upon the void,
I will lift up My aching head, and for
a moment stay My tears. I tell thee

GETHSEMAISTI. 145

how upon My broken form the shafts
of anger fell, and lightnings of the
wrath of God were playing on My
nerves that I might suffer pain, and
of the cup of torture drink the dregs.
As I lay there I passed My passion
through. I took up every pang. I anti-
cipated all. I felt the cross, the scourge,
the crown of thorns, the nail, the spear.
I felt the blows upon My face, the spit-
tle of the crowd, the angry curses of
the mob. In My flesh, exhausted with
the sweat of blood, I was mocked, and
scourged, and crucified before the time.

Listen, child, and as thou art My own,
thou wilt love to dwell upon My wounds,
to study every pain, with deep affection
linger as I shall each grief unfold, and
open to thy sight the picture of a mar-
tyred God.

Didst thou know Thy Love was cru-
cified, that thou art now His bride,
that the marriage-bells were sounding

146 GETHSEMAISX

in the garden, ringing loud on Calvary ?
Didst thou know that when He touch-
ed thy hand, and put on thee the wed-
ding-ring, His fingers were so red with
blood ? Didst thou know that He was
full of pain, and trembling with' the
pangs of mortal anguish, when He drew
thee to His side and called thee His ?
Hereafter thou shalt know the whole ; yet
I will teach thee now the lesson that may
serve thee in thy pangs, and when thy
crosses come shall turn thine eyes to
Me. T shall not ask My saints to
bear what I have borne. Look, then,
with prayerful heart, and nerve thyself
to see. Where I have fainted, and thy
•God was weak, canst thou look on and
live?

Ah ! hast thou known a pain severe,
and full of death, making of the flesh
one realm of torture, running through
the veins, piercing nerves, dividing bones,
and burning at the seat of life? There

GETHSEMANI. 147

are bitter pangs, the punishments of
crime ; there are torments cruel rage hath
found to sate its vengeance on the dying
frame. There are martyrs for My faith
treading in their paths of agony to find
the likeness to My cross. I have taken
all their pains. I have gone before to
bless their anguish with My presence,
and to track the way that leads to crowns
eternal in the heavens.

Their strife was fierce, the struggle
dire ; yet am I their King, and far as
earth from heaven their agonies from
Mine. I am God, and in the realm of
torture I am reigning. Without an
equal have I suffered, and there is no
cup of grief intense I have not tasted
to the full. To the utmost power of
pain have I mounted ; to the depths of
keenest agony I have gone down. And
My nature, so divine, so sensitive to
feel, hath strained its great capacities
of suffering, that the soul and body of

148 GETHSEMA1STI.

the Word might thus " exhaust the sins
of many" and be perfect in its sacrifice.
The pangs which I endured upon Me
came in one assault. I bade them come
together, and I bared My breast that they
might do their worst. I held them fast
and would not yield ; I let them waste
their strength and wrestle with Me, and
I suffered only as I willed. When the
torments reached their height, when to
its fiercest limit I had tasted every pain,
then with My hands I touched the chill-
ing stream of death, and bowed down
lifeless to their rage. And every pang
I took I held without relief throughout
long hours — the endless hours when mo-
ments, counted by My pains, were ages
drear. I held them all like furnaces of
fire burning fiercely to the dying breath.
I was bruised with stunning blows. The
marks were on My head and breast and
swollen face. I kept the sting until the
last. The ropes that bound Me tore Me

GETHSEMANI. 149

by their cruel tension, as they dragged
Me like a beast along the streets, among
the stones that pierced My feet. The
stricture of the ropes I felt around My
waist, upon My breast, even when on Cal-
vary ; and the cross with My convulsions
caused the cruel mark to redden with
My blood.

Naked at the pillar did I stand while
scourges ploughed My flesh. My shoul-
ders were one bleeding wound. I kept
the agony and took it to the end. Upon
the cross I nourished it, and would not
then permit one pang to cease, or fail to
feel one blow. I would be scourged unto
the last, and willed to see the mangled
shoulders bleed. I put the heavy cross
upon them, that the gaping wounds might
open wide and reveal in death the burden
I had borne.

I would not that My bones should
break. This were not worthy of the
Lamb of God. But I took a direr pain,

150 GETHSEMANI.

and let My limbs be forced apart, and
from their sockets let My bones be
torn. And thus I hung on Calvary,
and thus I died.

They tore the skin and flayed Me as
they mocked Me, tearing off My gar-
ments from My bruised and mangled
flesh. This was anguish as of fire. I
trembled as I meekly bore it to the
cross and held it till the end.

They put upon My royal head a
crown of thorns. With its sharp points
they pressed it through the tenderest
nerves. Upon My temples and against
the bone it crowded down. It tore
My forehead, it obscured My sight, it
opened up a fount of pain; My ach-
ing, lacerated head was wild with an-
guish too intense for life. I nourished
all these pangs. I would not let them
go. Not an instant did they cease. I
kept My cruel crown and wore it till
I died.

GETHSEMANI. 151

The deathlike faintness such as only
comes from loss of blood I suffered from
the garden till with parting breath I
yielded to the awful agony. I was
fainting all the time, just living as I
willed, and holding on to tortures to
exhaust their power. I was nearer
death than life. Beneath the cross I
staggered on, so weary that My weari-
ness was worse than pain.

My heart seemed filled with fire, and
its pulsations ran like light, till breath
was anguish to Me ; and then by turns
it almost ceased to beat, and like the
chilling ice it lay with stifling weight
within My breast. Now I was burn-
ing, burning, as if some penetrating
fire were running in My veins, as if a
heat of more than human power were
turning into vapor fierce the solid flesh
and bone. Then I was chilled to death,
freezing, aching with the cold, hanging
naked on My wounds, and trembling as

152 GETHSEMA1ST.

the nails that held Me seemed as icy bands
to burn Me with their cold intense.

There came a hunger, not from lack of
food alone, but from exhaustion awful
in its pain, as nature craved relief. The
thirst from faintness and from bleeding so
profusely was a fearful pang. I even cried
aloud from awful thirst consuming Me ;
and as My tongue was parched, with lips
wide open panting for a breath, the souls
for whom I died were ready with their
mockery. Upon My lips, so dry and
feverish, even cracked with thirst, they
put their vinegar and gall. I was hun-
gry and athirst until I willed to die,
and, prostrate on the ground, My tears
were mingled with My blood. I took
these pains and held them to My breast
as if My dearest treasures. They were
the price of souls. With these I bought
My lovers true ; and as I drew them
with the strength of Q-od, I blessed the
agonies that made them Mine.

GETHSEMAOT. 153

So in fondness all divine I touched
the scourge so soon to tear My back.
I kissed the ropes so soon to bind My
limbs. I took up the nails, and, as if I
looked at gems, I laid them on My
heart. The hammer which the ruffian
hand should drive them with was dear to
Me. I looked upon My hands and feet,
and marked the place where they should
pierce Me with an endless wound. I
saw the thorns, so sharp, so soon to rest
upon My brow. I touched their points
with tenderness. This was the crown of
the celestial King, who reigns by blood,
and wins the hearts of men by pain.
And when upon My royal head I saw
this crown, I gathered to My close em-
brace the virgin souls that only know
their bleeding Spouse and never fear the
thorns.

I put My fingers on the cross and
measured well its height and breadth.
This was the tree of life, for ages seen

154 GETHSEMANI.

in prophecy, to bear the quickening fruit,
the living bread. Its type was once in
Paradise, where innocence and beauty
reigned beneath the smile of God. From
Eden it has come to Calvary, and by
that sacred wood I shall redeem the
world. I touched and blessed the holes
already made to hold the spikes when
they should nail My lacerated feet and
hands.

With affection uncontrolled I took
the spear which should transpierce My
heart in death. With transports of a
God I kissed it many times. Blessed
spear, I cried as then My Father heard—
blessed spear, that in the heart of love
incarnate shall reveal the depths and
unfold the mercy of the Crucified, open-
ing up the wound that flows for ever
with the tide of pardon and of grace.
As Adam, sleeping in the noon of
Eden, saw^ his bride, so from this gap-
ing wound within My breast I saw My

GETHSEMANT. 155

spouse proceed, My spotless Church, the
throng of virgins and of saints whose
robes were glistening in the uncreated
light, the children of the Word made
flesh. And thus I turned and looked
upon Myself ; in every nerve and
sense I felt My crucifixion, and to the
chalice of My mortal anguish put My
lips. Was I God, so low, so agonized
with pain ? Had the Love Eternal of the
Father and the Spirit come to this? A
prostrate form, too weak to stand, too
helpless to lie still, convulsed with
agony, bleeding freely, all alone, without
a wound ! Yes, this is God ! Here is the
horror of the scene. Here is the source
of pain. He does not die. He takes
up every drop of anguish possible, is
crucified before His time, because He is
your God.

Now, My precious child, if to thee I
tell this agony, it is that I may to thy
soul unfold the depth of My great love

156 GETHSEMA1S1.

for tliee. I suffered so that I might
teach thee many lessons — lessons thou
must learn if thou wilt come so near
Me as thy heart would wish, and really
touch Me with thy hands, and lay thy
head upon My breast, and feel the pres-
sure of Mine arms, and even hope to
taste the kisses of My lips. I would
that I might speak to thee, as I cannot
speak to all. I would that I might
here reveal to thine enlightened mind
a little of the wealth that dwells in Me,
a little of the treasure that thy Jesus
is. I am God, and yet I would be
thine, as if thou wast My only love.
Can you know the length and breadth,
and depth and height, of mercy infinite ?
My agony of pain was needed to the
blessing of thy cross. I grieve to see
thee suffer pain. I bore thy griefs
upon My heart. Thy sorrows, too, were
all n Mine. How can I lead thee after
Me, and make thee like thy Master,

GETHSEMANI. 157

if thou hast no cross? How purge thee
from thy dross, and in thy senses heal
the wounds of sin ? How refine the
founts of feeling at their source, and
make thy limbs and members fit to
touch My flesh, if there be no agony
like Mine? How canst thou pay thy
debt to justice as exacting as divine,
and so be free to stand before Me where
My angels are not clean, if there be no
penance laid on thee? And so I go
before thee with My staff and rod. I
hold thee up while thus in mercy I
chastise thee. It is thy loving Lord
that deals the blows. They fall from
bleeding hands ; they come from pity
infinite ; they hurt Me too, and I am
weeping with thee. I must hide My
face when tears are falling fast, and
make thee feel that I am angry with
thee. When My heart is breaking to
console thee I cannot listen to the
plea. I am truest to thee in thy pain,

158 GETHSEMA1ST.

which is My grief. Thou didst ask for
purity. Thou didst pray for My em-
brace. Canst thou, then, descend with-
in the Olive shades with Me, that I may
lead thee to the inner life where I un-
veil the riches of My grace ?

Thou shalt never know a garden ago-
ny like Mine. The faintest shadow of
the night is all I ask for thee. It
shall wrap thy soul in gloom. It shall
hurt as God alone can hurt. My fingers
all divine shall touch the aching wounds,
and play upon them as a God. Then
think of Me when thus thy hour shall
come. Let not the tempter lure thee
to despair. I am with thee, mightier,
dearer far than when I send the beams
of joy or fill thee with the sweetness
of My face. Didst thou know the
heart thou choosest is a wounded heart,
that thorns surround My brow, that
marks of nails are in My hands? They
that seek to follow Me, that would be

GETHSEMANI. 159

Mine, that long to know Me well, must
touch the spear and thorns and nails.
For I am crucified, and crucified shall
be to every soul that finds the joy of
My embrace.

In pain I send there is a grace I
cannot give thee with the smile of peace.
There is a merit in the sorrow fierce
that with discerning love I mete to
thee. It is thy cross. It is thy share
of Calvary. It is thy burial from earth.
It is the night before the dawn ; the
tomb that opens to a glorious life.
Faint not, My child. Thou didst pro-
fess to love Me unto death. If thy
pang be fierce, thy agony severe, it is
My greatest gift to thee. Then in
thine anguish think of Me. Remember
when in awful night I lay upon the
crimsoned ground and sighed My life
away for thee. Unite thy pains to
Mine. They are well known to Me.
I bore them all, and blessed them with

160 GETHSEMAKL

My tears. Thou didst ask to suffer with
Me in the transports of thy love. Then
suffer as I will. Thine agony of pain
can never crush thy soul. Offer all for
Me. And I will come, though thou
shouldst never see My hands ; I will
hold thy head and soothe thine aching
heart. Each pang I sanctify with gentle-
ness divine. I come with pain to those
I love. I am a sword to sever, and a
fire to burn. Each sorrow is a step that
leads within My home ; each grief the
messenger of grace, guiding to a truer
nearness to thy heavenly Love. I am
winning thee, detaching thee from earth,
and clothing thee in bridal raiment for
thy King. Watch and wait, and tremble
not. Listen in thy grief. The marriage-
bells are sounding in thine ears. The
Bridegroom dear is coming with His train.
Celestial music falls from angel harps;
their choirs are singing welcome to the
bride.

GETHSEMAJSTI. 161

Thine hour of death shall be thine
hour of joy, when from thy bed of pain
I lift thee up, to show to thee My face,
to tell thee of My love, that I have
loved thee long, that I will love thee
to eternity.

Meditation Sixth.

TEE AGONY OF A WOUNDED HEART.

MEDITATION SIXTH.

THE AGONY OF A WOUNDED HEART,

"And they shall say to Him: What are these wounds in Thy
hands ? And He shall say : With these was I wounded in the
house of them that loved Me."— Zacharias xiii. 6.

When my blessed Master spoke these
joyous words my soul entranced seemed
lost in Him. For a moment I forgot the
fearful gloom which so encompassed me.
My darkness seemed to turn to light,
and far away my prayers were travel-
ling to the land of peace, where tears
and sorrow are unknown. I looked
above me ; through the parting clouds
I saw the paradise of God, where
'mid the lilies, by the banks of crys-
tal streams, the heavenly Shepherd

165

166 GETHSEMANI.

leads His flock. Angels in their bright
array were there, and virgin souls were
kneeling round the King. My agony of
pain was turned to ecstasy ; the wounds
the bleeding fingers touched were rays
of light. I saw the ladder there as
from the earth it reached to heaven.
I saw the saints ascending to the
throne. Upon the throne I saw the
form of my Beloved ; with grace and
majesty He sat ; the splendor of His
face was brighter than the sun in his
meridian strength. For a moment I for-
got the garden where He suffered so,
and I knew not the place in which I was
nor where His love would guide me.
When He is near I take no thought of
time nor place. And He had lifted me
away from earth. I seemed to lean upon
His breast, all pain and danger past ; to
look with love into His blessed eyes ; to
see the glory of His smile, and feel the
pressure of His arms. 0 my Beloved!

GETHSEMANI. 167

how can I thank Thee for this grace !
How dear Thou art to me ! Thy sweet-
ness melts my soul. I am not living
now, for Thou indeed art living in me.
Blessed life to live in Him ! One heart,
one will, one joy ! Only Jesus ! There
is nothing else. My very being cries
with bliss, and speaks at every breath
His precious name.

How long my ecstasy endured I can-
not tell. Can angels count the moments
of their blissful life before the King?
I had travelled far, and I was blest
indeed. It seemed no shadow could
approach the home where with my Je-
sus I was feasting on His face. Had I
forgot the Olive shades, the trembling
form of my Beloved, the piteous cries,
the sweat of blood? I had not forgot-
ten Him; and yet He seemed to cast
aside His crimson robe. I saw no tears
upon His cheeks. His eyes so dear
were full of smiles. Now suddenly

168 GETHSEMANX.

there came a change— an awful change.
From my brief joy there came a new
and fearful grief. The light was gone.
The gloom was deeper than before.
The cold of icy winter chilled me
through. I tried to see : my sight had
gone. I tried to feel : there was no
sense to guide my hands or feet. An
awful pain was seizing on my heart ;
and in the night, so dense that every
pulse was stilled, I heard a piteous cry.
Oh ! I have never heard a cry like that !
Agony, as that of *God, took voice, and
there came upon the deep a wail of sor-
row which unnerved me till I prayed
for death. It is the angel of the grave
that wraps his wings around my life ; I
feel the touch of his cold pinions and
the darkness of the tomb ! No, I am
not dead ! I yet can hear. I hear my
Master dear. I cannot err. I know His
voice. Oh ! art Thou suffering more,
my blessed Love? Couldst Thou suffer

GETHSEMAIST. 169

more ? Hadst Thou not reached the
height of pain ? Only now Thy tones
were not so full of tears. There was a
trembling in Thy voice, as if the agony
were breaking and the clouds that
covered Thee were slowly passing on
their way. What hath happened Thee ?
O my Master ! speak to me once more.
What new grief hath come to crush
Thee in Thy weakness now ?

He did not reply. I waited long. I
prayed with all my soul. I begged for
strength. I wept until my eyes were
blind, and then I sobbed as if my heart
would break. In this awful stillness,
where I strained my hearing till it
seemed that sense would cease, I heard
again that piteous wail. O spirits of the
light ! oh ! may I call you to this gloom ?
Can you help me hear these sorrow-
ing tones, and live? Ah, hark! let not
a pinion move ; let not a breath from
earth or heaven disturb me now. Oh !

170 GETHSEMANI.

He is crying to the Father, not to me.
And will the Father hear? " Father,
Father ! must I drink this cup ? Is
there no relief? Could I be spared this
torment of My wounded heart ? Oh !
must it be ? Must I take this chalice
drear? I am broken now with grief.
Is this Thy will ? I feel the agony
will kill Me with its awful pain."

Then there came a pause. I heard
the sound of sighs that pierced me like
a thousand arrows in my flesh, and sobs
so weak, and yet so pitiful, that in my
fear I struggled hard to move, while
seeming bands of ice were holding me
like bars of iron in their mighty grasp.
I could not move a limb or sense.
Surely my heart is ceasing now to beat,
I cried ; the hour is come. Oh ! where
is my Beloved? Shall I go and thus
bid Him farewell?

Listen once again. He speaks: " Fa-
ther, Thy will be done. It thus must

GETHSEMANT. 171

be. I take the cup. My hands are
trembling so I cannot hold it to My
month. Take Thou the chalice that
I dread, and with Thy hands divine
uplift it to My lips. My heart is
wounded to the death — wounded as the
Son of Grod alone could be — and yet I
take it all. Oh ! spare Me not. There
is no more. When I have taken up the
dregs of this My fearful cup, there is
no more that I can do ! Prostrate on
the ground I lie. I kiss the earth
again. It hath not wounded Me. It
takes My tears. It drinks My blood,
and doth not cast Me off with scorn. I
here lie still and rest My aching heart
and agonizing limbs a little ere the
traitor comes. I hear his footsteps now.
O earth! I lean upon thee. Let Me
weep a little more. The fount is open
now. My scalding tears will ease the
pain that seems like death ; and yet I
will not, cannot die. O My Judas ! 0

172 GETHSEMANI.

My people ! come not now so fast. Let
Me rest a little here till in the earth I
dry Mine eyes and gather strength to
bear My cross."

O my Jesus ! I cannot tell to creatures
how these words affrighted me, how
they almost took my reason from me.'
I seemed to lose myself in grief, to be
myself an agony. I need not tell to
Thee my woe. Thou wilt well remem-
ber all. For Thou didst hear my tear-
ful prayer. And when it seemed that
life would go where reason fled, and
death would come before Thy voice
would speak to me again, I heard the
tones I love beyond the harps of hea-
ven. They were weaker than before,
more full of sadness sweet. I knew
they came through tears. Listen, 0 my
trembling heart ! my Beloved speaks to
me. Let my whole being wait, and
kneel before Him with adoring faith !
Oh ! can I say it, dare I say it now ?

GETHSEMAKI. 173

I cherish as the dearest gift of God the
message that He gave to me. Be still,
my every sense ! Awake the fires of
love. Around the prostrate, bleeding
form oh! let them kindle into flame.

My child, these hours of grief are
nearly passed. The Olive shades will
soon be left alone. I have suffered all.
No worse can man inflict. This chalice
was not needed to My sacrifice. The
souls whom I redeem might spare Me
this. They have wounded Me where I
am weak. In the tenderest points of
that most sacred heart with which I
loved them so, they have hurt Me unto
death. These wounds will never heal.
Oh ! they hurt Me so that I can hardly
speak. To tell of them is agony, and
like the poisoned spear that turns with-
in an open wound. Know you, My
child — oh ! can you ever know — the
awfulness of sin that hurts the heart of
God? Know you how your God can

174 GETHSEMAISTI.

feel ? I was the victim for their sins.
I willed to suffer and to bleed. I was
even anxious in My love to die. I
spared no sorrow from My life. There
was no pain I did not gladly bear.
But was it needed they should turn
against Me with ingratitude ? Could
they not have recognized the strength
of My affection, and have blessed Me
for My blood? And if they could not
praise My grace nor thank Me for My
cross, was it for them to put to scorn
My lowliness, despise My longing love,
and trample on My blood as if I were
not God, as if I were not even man?

Oh ! hast thou ever known the stings
that wound so deep within the house of
friends ? Hast thou, then, tasted that
ingratitude which chills the heart and
turneth every tenderness to pain ? Who
are those who wound like friends? A
love that could not meet response,
despised with rude ingratitude becomes

GETHSEMANI. 175

the source of bitterness, and dwells
within the wounded heart to be a
memory of pain. The hands are open
and the breast is bare. The traitor
knows where he can strike and leave a
wound which time will never heal.

And if thou hast ever known the
stings that come from friends, and if
thy heart be sore, then think of Me.
Compare My love to thine. Compare the
little thou hast borne with My great
weight of pain. To seek for gratitude,
some slight return for all I bore, to look
for some affection to console My grief5
this was indeed My right. My heart was
yearning for some love. Was I not
God ? Did I not wear the beauty which
the angels tremble to adore ? Had I not
attractions strong enough to win My peo-
ple to Me ? There was never seen on
earth a face like Mine. My breast was
filled with all the gentleness of God.
My words were sweet and tender to

176 GETHSEMAtfl.

bring peace to each afflicted soul. " I
did not strive nor cry. I did not break
the bruised reed, nor quench the smok-
ing flax." I healed the sick, I raised
the dead. I let the mourner lean on Me ;
and when the light of earth was fled, I
turned aside the cloud and showed the
broken heart the light of heaven. Why
could I fail to win their love? I took
their sorrows as Mine own. I died to
save them from the wrath of God. I
shed My blood to wash them from their
stains. I gave them everything I had —
My life, My body to be tortured, and My
soul to direst agony. My name, My
spotless fame, the anguish of My Mother
dear, the torments of My saints, were
all a sacrifice to cleanse them from their
sins and draw them to Mine arms.

O ye benighted race of man ! do you
not know that God is dying for your
sins? And have you knowrn how He
can suffer and how He can love ?

GETHSEMASTI. 177

This is not all the burden of My woe.
The death of shame was not enough fox
Me. This cruel death did not exhaust
the yearning of My soul. Before I died
My testament was made, and ratified
upon the cross. I could not say farewell.
I must remain with those so dear to Me,
with those My passion bought, with
those I washed with blood. My legacy
was then indeed Myself. The victim of
the cross remains on earth. The sacrifice
endures. I give My body and My
blood, My soul and My divinity, to be
the food of such as will partake of
Me. Upon the altars in the rite divine
will I be offered to the end of time.
Within the tabernacle so lowly and so
little shall be seen My home. A pri-
soner will I dwell with men ; and seek
for hearts that love, and win them to
be Mine. I will change them by My
flesh, transform them by My blood.
They shall be one with Me, as I am one

178 GETHSEMANI.

with God. I can do no more. The In-
finite has reached the bounds of power.
This is the work of love divine. I do
not simply die — I come to live and
dwell in them, where My humanity shall
be the source of life eternal and of beauty
ever new. I clasp them to My breast,
and as I embrace their feebleness they
change from glory unto glory, when My
heart is satisfied and I have taught them
how to love.

Now, what return have I for all this
wealth of grace, for all this revelation
of the yearning of My soul ? I have
indeed the chalice of ingratitude to drink
— ingratitude so deep that God alone can
measure it. This was the answer from
the race of men, when thus in humbled
form, a beggar at their doors, with bleed-
ing hands and feet, I sought their hearts.
Oh ! this the fearful cup I dreaded so
need not have been My agony ! I did
not ask the Father from My pains to

GETHSEMAIST. 179

take one pang. I did not seek to put
away the spear or nail. I even kissed
the cross when ruffian hands were press-
ing it upon My wounded back. No, I
would have suffered more, if that were
possible. I only asked for gratitude.
Was that too much to ask ? Could a
sorrowing, dying Grod, the victim for the
sins of men, not ask this boon ? My
soul cried out in tears: "I ask a little
of your love. Is this too much ? The
Incarnate Word is kneeling to you in
His crimson robe 1 You love the crea-
ture god who seeks you for himself ;
you take the poisoned fruit and flow-
ers that blossom for the grave ; you run
for honors, and the golden idols which
decay ; you follow fast the fallen spi-
rits coming from their hell to draw you
there. Can you not see your God, re-
vealing you His heart, imploring 3^011
to seek the riches that endure, and have
your part with angels who are reigning

180 GETHSEMAKI.

in His light ?" From many My response
was scorn. They seemed to trample on
My blood, and threw their weight on Me,
as I lay crushed beneath the wrath that
smote Me for their crimes.

I saw the long procession of the lost,
the souls I could not save. They stood
before Me as I cried for them with sobs
and tears. I numbered all their graces
costing Me My life, the sins I tried to^
purge them from, the sorrows that I
sought to heal. I followed with a pa-
tience which was turned by no ingrati-
tude, with gentleness that might have
moved the heart of stone. I gave them
sacraments ; I threw My blood before
them ; I even offered them My flesh.
It was all in vain. Their lives are now
the saddest history of wasted grace.
They had love for others, for the things
of sense, for the baser pleasures which
defile, but none for Me. They accepted
every friend, and even leaned on selfish

GETHSEMAINT. 181

hearts. They rejected Me. They took
the creature and refused their God.
And now their cup is misery beyond
the power of man to know. The flames
of hell must burn them to eternity, when
one drop of blood I shed had earned
them heaven, the joys of bliss with Me.
I am wasted on their lost and darkened
souls. And in the smoke and fire as-
cending now before the throne I see
their faces full of hate, their hideous
writhings with the fangs of demons fierce,
or hear the oaths they utter while in
their agony they curse My name. O
sinners lost ! I suffered then for you
within the garden and on Calvary I
Why could I not have saved you from
your awful doom? Why were your
hearts so cold to Me, or so unmindful
of My grief ? Oh ! tell Me, what can
be the agony of wasted human love ? If
this be pain, then think of Him who,
equal to the Father, and God's only

182 GETHSEMANI.

Son, poured out His blood and broke
His heart for you !

The dreadful thought with anguish
almost stifles life. It is because I loved
them so that they have found the way
to hurt Me; that of My heart's great
tenderness for them they made the source
of all My direst pain. Had I not been
their brother in the flesh, how had they
pierced Me with the nail and spear ?
Had I not willed to take the cup of
poverty and toil, had they reproached
Me for My lowliness ? Had I not died
that they might live, could they have
laughed Me like a criminal to scorn,
and even for My cross have learned
to treat me with despite ? If My pre-
cious blood had not been shed like water
poured upon the earth, could they have
trampled on it, as it begged to heaven
for mercy on their souls ? Had I not
followed them in all their devious ways,
seeking them within the desert drear

GETHSEMAKL 183

amid the wrecks of crime, could they
have turned on Me and called Me beg-
gar, man despised, and not a God? If
in their ruin sad I had not held to them
the hands divine, when none were near
to rescue them ; had I not laid them
on My bleeding shoulders, aching with
the cold, and borne them home without
reproach, to cleanse them with My blood,
to feed them with My flesh, could they
in base ingratitude have spurned My
arms, and crimsoned with the current of
My life, have run to creature love, and
brought defilement where My spotless
body once was laid ? Had I not sought
them starving, freezing with the cold,
and taken them to My embrace, and
warmed them on My breast, could they
have turned to sting and wound Me
with the life that came from Me ? And
in that sacrament divine where I re-
peat the sorrows of My cross, am daily
sacrificed for those I seek to save, how

184 GETHSEMAKI.

is My wounded heart o'erwhelmed with
grief ? I am a prisoner at their will. I
veil the glories of My deity, and wait
on them as if I were the creature bound
beneath their bonds, and even less than
man. Upon My sacramental throne I
reign as if an exile from My Father's
court, with few to bow before My lowli-
ness. Alone I wait, forgotten or de-
spised, where angels come to comfort
Me, to cheer the sadness of My heart
with songs I hear around the throne.
Within this prison of My love I sit to
see the faithless pass, unmindful of My
grief, regardless of My pain. I bear
the cross upon My breast ; the thorny
crown is on My brow ; the nails are in
My hands and feet ; the spear is in My
heart. I sit and read the thoughts of
men ; I taste their base ingratitude.
And so Gethsemani comes back to Me,
while in My bleeding hands I hold My
broken heart. The Olive shades sur-

&ETHSEMAOT. 185

round Me there while there I dwell to
take the chalice which I dreaded so,
which in the garden drear convulsed
Me with the sweat of blood. Oh ! how
I suffer now ! How deep within My
heart this awful sting goes down ! Oh !
let Me weep awhile. The tears will
bring relief. Oh! let Me bow Mine
eyes and hide them here. The grass,
now reddened with My blood, shall drink
the sighs which neither God nor man
will hear. It is the hurt which not the
hands divine can heal, the fearful wound
which, like a flame of fire, is burning
in My breast. O My broken, broken
heart, so soon to beat no more, I can-
not ease thy pain ! Take, oh ! take thy
cup of agony. There is no cure. Thou
art wounded unto death.

And then, white tears ran down, the
soul seemed parting from the body in
a sharper pain than death. I looked
to see if there were consolation from

186 GETHSEMAJSTI.

the home of friends. And as I looked
My hands were pierced anew. I laid
them on the chilling grass, as they were
burning so. I stretched them out, that
I might see the source of this new pain.
Alas ! I touched the cross, I saw the
ruffian with the nails. What home have
I on earth ? With My Mother was I
once for long and blessed years. I was
an exile far beyond the sea ; but then
I laid My wearied head upon her loving
breast ! Although the Son of God was
driven from homes of earth, in pov-
erty ignored, I had a rest within her
gentle arms, and it was home to Me to
feel her touch and see her smile. Now
that home is broken up. She hath no
resting-place, and I, her child, must die
among the skulls, upon the cross. Her
precious hands cah never touch Me
more till I am dead. She cannot smile
on Calvary. No, I have no home on
earth. No one so desolate as I. And

GETHSEMAJVTI. 187

as I lie upon the ground I feel the
footsteps of the traitor as he conies ;
and, leading on his band with swords
and staves, he ventures to betray Me
with a kiss. Ah ! yes, the faithless soul
with smiles will come, and ask from
Me the recognition of a friend, the fond
embrace with which I used to tell him
of My love. This Judas sells Me for
a paltry price. I see his heart with
avarice possessed. He will deny Me
with despair; before My Easter morn
shall dawn, the morn that heralds far
and wide the everlasting day, he sinks
by his own hand among the flames
of hell. Oh! can I bear this awful
wound, this dire ingratitude ! And
must I lose on Calvary's height the
soul of Mine apostle % Must I be then
betrayed by one so near to Me, so dear-
ly loved ? O these wounds within
My hands ! they ache, they smart with
anguish dire ! Alas ! My Judas comes

188 &ETHSEMANI.

not here alone. There are many traitors
in his train. He leads the long proces-
sion as they pass with spear and staves.
They sell Me to My foes, betray Me for
the things of time, prefer the pleasures
of the world to Me, and for the honors
of the earth deny My faith. They kiss
me with their lips, they call them-
selves My chosen ones, will even boast
of that embrace wherewith I bade them
rest within My arms, and yet will drive
Me from their hearts, and welcome to
My throne some sensual god, some spirit
lost who only seeks them for the misery
of hell.

The more I love the more I feel, and
they whom I love most have power to
wound Me where the keenest pangs af-
flict M}^ aching heart. Oh ! how I feel
the slightest shadow of untruth from
them, the slightest coldness to My
yearning love. I am all theirs by ties
divine ; why cannot they be wholly

GETHSEMAISTI. 189

Mine ? Why must I fail to draw
them to Myself alone? Am I not God?
Can creature love be stronger than the
love of God ? I must be jealous of the
hearts I choose. I cannot see another
sit upon My throne. Oh ! why, My
dearest chosen ones, why wound My
soul so sensitive, so full of tenderness?
Why must love of self, the vanity of
empty pride, sometimes the cravings of
the senses, come between Me and your
souls ? Why am I not alone your end
supreme? Why are you so cold to
Me, as if My presence were fatigue?
Oh ! how you hurt Me when I feel
that after all My grace, the promises
of constancy renewed, the ring you wear
in token of a heavenly spouse, the nup-
tial pledges of our love, I am not the
master of your heart. Why must I win
you by My tears? Why must I touch
you with a bleeding hand and give you
pain ? Why must I break the idols

190 GETHSEMANI.

of the earth and make your home so
desolate ? Why, oh ! why can I not
win you by My grace, by the beauty
of My face ? Why must I weep to
look on you? Why choose you not the
joyous smile which gladdens heaven ?
When will you learn what bitter tears
you made Me shed, and what it costs
to make you true, to hold you as you
struggle from My arms ? I seek pure
souls ; and they alone can be the place
of My repose. Why must the bitter-
ness of sin bring souls to Me? Why
must I ever go to deserts drear to seek
My wandering sheep? Why will they
renew the sorrows of My path to Cal-
vary ? Why must I bear them on My
bleeding shoulders as My cross, and
tremble with their coldness, as My
hands and feet are aching with their
wounds ? Oh ! how it costs Me pain to
purify their souls from stain, and lead
them, as I must, through paths of peni-

GETHSEMAISTX. 191

tence, to make tliem feel a little of My
grief and bear a portion of the cross
with Me ! Some souls are true and will-
ing in this tearful way ! My wounded
heart will tell to God ; it cannot tell
to thee, the love I have for virgin
hearts who are indeed My brides, who
have no love but Mine — My saints who
walk beside Me, looking always on My
face. 1 clasp their hands in Mine. I
am with them in shadows dark, in
winter's cold, in summer's heat, in all
the struggles of their life, in all the
agonies of death. And when I look be-
yond the grave, and see the sinless fire
My hands have kindled for Mine own,
see how My chosen suffer there, oh! think
you not that I am hurt indeed? They
suffer so for their ingratitude, because
they were not faithful to My grace,
because a/t times they chose another
love than Mine. These spots upon
their raiment white are marks of infi-

192 GETHSEMANI.

delity to Me. My flowing tears could
not wash out the stain. My tender
heart was not enough. The powers of
sense were stronger than their vows to
God. There must be fire whose search-
ing strength shall burn the dross and
leave the gold in virgin purity. And
yet these agonizing fires need not have
been for them ! They might have given
Me their hearts and never hurt Me
with the stings of coldness or ingrati-
tude.

Upon My sacramental throne I sit by
day and night, the God of love, the pri-
soner bound in hand and foot. I yearn
to give My light and heat, to cheer
the darkened soul with rays from hea-
ven, to speak as God made man alone
can speak to every suffering heart. Oh !
how My wounded breast is bleeding
there, while I thus sit alone, with none
but angels to adore, or kneel to pray
My erring children home, or stand to

GETIISEMANI. 193

bless the pilgrim as he presses on to
Me ! In that divine repose, where I am
all for those I love, the fountain flow-
ing full cf pity infinite, the source of
strength where flesh is weak, I waste
the tenderness which springs at every
moment new. The treasure of My heart
is neither felt nor known. Sometimes
I am ignored, sometimes forgotten. It
wearies so the flesh to spend one hour
with Me. My children dear, they call
Me Spouse ; they speak of My affection
as their right ; they say there is no love
like Mine, and yet they cannot come
and kneel before Me as the lover to the
loved; they cannot bid the earth retire,
and think of Me alone! I see them wea-
ried as they kneel. The garden scene is
ever wounding Me, where I am weakest
in My love. They are sleeping like the
three apostles when the shadows fell.
With heavy eyes they are unconscious
of My grief for them.. And when they

194 GETHSEMANI.

come to take Me as their food, and
My whole being springs with joy to
give them all I have and am, how
coldly do they come ! How chilling
to My warm affection their response !
What have they to say to Me when in
all the ardor of a ]ove divine I speak
to them, when My hands are eager to
embrace them in a fond caress and pour
My wealth upon their souls? Are
they indeed like lovers to their heaven-
ly Spouse ? Sometimes I hear no words,
sometimes I see no tears, sometimes
their thoughts are wandering far from
Me ; they seem unmindful that the Bride-
groom comes, that God is loving them
as He alone can love. O My heart ! the
heart of God, how dost thou waste thy
grace ! The wealth of deity, the riches
that make glad the courts of heaven, are
thus unknown, unseen of men on earth.
And now, my child, I will not tell
thee of thyself. The lesson thou hast

GETHSEMANI. 195

learned within these awful shades, where
thou hast seen a little of My bitter pain,
will teach thee of thy share within
the wounded heart of thy Beloved. I
grieve and yet I love to see thee weep,
as here thou dost recall the many stings
thy faithlessness has sharpened for My
breast. Thou wilt remember all thy
wandering steps, the idols thou hast
worshipped in My stead, the creatures
that as shadows came to dim My light,
the hours when I was not thy Love su-
preme. Thy sobs are hurting Me as
here I lie so weak ; and yet thy tears
are washing out the marks of guilt. The
shadows are departing one by one. The
idols are in ruins here. The wrecks of
thine inconstancy are in this garden
strewn. Thou wilt not touch again the
snares thou hast forsaken here. The
creature love is dead for ever now. It
shall not arise again. Thou shalt go
with Me to Calvary. Thou shalt see Me

196 GETHSEMAKI.

die. The nails that hold Me to the
cross shall fasten thee to Me. Thou
shalt wound My heart no more.

Now, my new-born child thus bathed
in blood, I here accept thy vows. Kneel
here in truth. Reach out thy hand to
Me. Thou canst not see Me as I touch
thee in this night of pain. Yet thou
canst hear and feel. Hold fast to Me !
I come to put My ring upon thy hand.
Does the pledge of Mine espousals pain?
The finger bleeds which I shall press.
Look wTell and see— not thy blood is
flowing here, but Mine ! Oh ! strange
indeed this bridal chamber of thy King,
the garden of His woe, the deepest sha-
dows of Gethsemani! The music of the
nuptial song the sobs of thy Beloved !
The marriage-garment crimsoned with
His blood ! The words of His espousals
the sad language of a wounded heart !
And now I have a moment only to pre-
pare. Kneel here, My loving child, be-

GETHSEMAffl. 197

side Me. I can speak no more. It eases
the sharp pain consuming Me to know
that thou art here* Oh ! dost thou
truly love Me now? Then let Me hold
thy hand one moment more. Alas !
the traitor's steps I hear. My face is
swollen and My lips are red. I must
kiss him when he comes. One moment
more, My precious child, to tell Me of
your love while I bow down My aching
head and hold My breaking heart. One
more sob, and life would go before the
time. My Father, come to Me and I
will weep no more ! The chalice of My
agony I give back to Thee.- Behold
Thy Son has drunk its dregs. Oh !
chase away the clouds, and let Mine
angels come.

My cup of fear, of loneliness, of sad-
ness drear, of awful pain, the stings
that pierce the heart divine — I offer all
to Thee for those I love. Let them draw
near in this My nuptial hall, amid the

198 GETHSEMAKL

drooping olive-trees. Then touch, oh !
for an instant touch the harps of hea-
ven, and let Me hear the songs that
cheer the Bridegroom's breaking heart.
And then, as all is ready, let the won-
drous rite proceed.

Bow down, O ye bright angels of My
court ! and to this garden come. This
is indeed the garden of My loves ; and
here in fertile soil the flowers shall
bloom to smile upon the banks of crys-
tal streams where I shall lead My vir-
gin train, the spouses of My agonizing
soul. For a moment let the shadows of
My cross depart ; let the rays of hea-
venly light descend ; let the Seraphim
and Cherubim in bright array begin
their song. It is the Word of God,
the Word made flesh, that bleeds and
dies upon His wedding-day.

Meditation Seventh.

JESUS CONDEMNED TO DEATH.

MEDITATIOH SEYEHTH.

JESUS CONDEMNED TO DEATH.

" He was offered because it was His own will : He shall be
led as a sheep to the slaughter, and shall be dumb as a
lamb before his shearer, and He shall not open His mouth."—
Isaias liii. 7.

My lieart was filled with peace and
joy unlike the sweetness I had some-
times known before. Oh ! was it joy
amid the scenes of this Gethsemani? I
know not what it was. My Blessed Mas-
ter seemed so near to me ; and when He
told me of the nuptial rite, I felt the
pressure of His hands, and I seemed
borne away, away from all things sensi-
ble. Did the bliss of heaven come then
an instant to expel the sadness from
my soul? I cannot tell. My lips were

moving to one word, " Jesus, Master, my
201

202 GETHSEMAISTI.

Beloved, draw me close to Thee. Am
I going to the altar now with Thee?
Are these the wedding garments for my
King ? Shall I behold Him in His beauty
here ? Jesus, Master, how I love Thee
now ! " I dare not speak of what He
seemed to say to me. How could He
embrace me so, and to one like me pour
out the sweetness which entranced my
soul, my will, my every faculty ? If this
be not the paradise I seek, oh ! what
shall be the joy when earth and sorrow
shall be past, and I shall see my Jesus
as He is ? O love divine ! Thou art in-
deed the Word made Flesh. Thou art
my Spouse, my Master, and my God.
I feel the breath of angels near, while
their celestial arms are holding me that
I may live. I am so blest, and yet I do
not die.

I was looking up to heaven with strain-
ing eyes. It seemed there was no earth.
Some strong attraction fixed my gaze,

GETHSEMAISTI. 203

and for the fulness of my sight I conld
not see. Then suddenly, I know not
when, I know not how, the vision ceased
and I awoke. I was in the garden
still, and yet the blessed place was not
so dark. The rays that had entranced
me so were not all gone. I was kneel-
ing still where I had knelt so long. I
was confused in mind. My memory
seemed gone. I tried to gather up the
broken threads and to recall what I had
seen. This is the garden still. It is
not gone. Here is the place of prayer.
Think, my soul, you have not moved.
Here was your Beloved laid. Here you
saw His sweat of blood. Here He told
you of His agony. Mark well the olive-
trees. Can they ever be forgotten ?
Yes, I said, it is the place. It is Geth-
semani. I am not moving now, yet I
am coming back. Oh ! yes, I see, and
yet the cloud is gone ! My sight begins
to grow upon me. I can hear a little,

204 GETHSEMANI.

too. What are the sounds that fall
upon my senses now ? There are voices
sweet and sad, unlike the tones of earth.
If I do not hear, I feel the harmony of
some celestial song. Oh ! thanks to
God, I see some angel forms. They fill
me with their peace. They are kneeling
now. I cannot see my Master dear as
they surround Him, bowing to the earth
with adoration. And I am kneeling,
too, with them. O my Beloved ! let
them tell with their angelic tongues
how I adore Thee, how my life with all
its powers goes up to Thee. They are
speaking now. I could not hear their
words. Was it praise or prayer ? I
cannot tell. It was the angels' offering
to their King laid low. I tried to join
my feeble voice when thus I felt the
melody of heaven that floated in the air
around my Master sad and bleeding
from a wounded heart. And then I
watched and prayed. O Thou my sor-

GETHSEMANI. 205

rowing Love ! wilt thou arise ? I heard
Thee speak of Calvary, the weary-
road that lay before Thee. How long
upon the ground shall my Redeemer lie,
as if it were His bed of death ? I saw
the angels bow their heads and kiss the
earth, and then He rose in majesty di-
vine. O my Jesus ! let me look at Thee.
Oh ! give me strength to see Thee as
Thou art. These eyes are Thine, always
and for ever Thine.

He gave me strength. I saw His face
once more. He turned and looked at me
and smiled. Oh ! could I paint Him
as He stood, so meek and pale, and
stained with blood ! His face was sad,
and yet it wore the majesty of God.
His form was bent, His limbs moved
feebly as with pain ; His hands were
folded on His breast, His finger pointed
to His heart. I yearned to run and
throw my adoration at His feet. I could
not move! The angels held me back.

206 GETHSEMANI.

The hour to kneel with spirits blest had
not yet come. He takes His hands from
their repose upon His breast ; He lifts
them once again. The angels kneel.
They kiss the ground once more. No
word they speak. The light celestial is
departing. I feel their pinions moving
on the air ; and they are gone.

I looked again. The darkness had re-
turned. I could see no more, and yet I
felt my Blessed Jesus there. I knew
He stood alone. My dearest Love, I
cried, what can I do ? I will never leave
Thee ; Thou wilt never cast me off.
Where Thou goest I will go, and if Thou
shalt here abide I will remain with Thee.
Oh ! let me be as angels at Thy side
to comfort Thee. Listen to my plaint
of love. I come, my Jesus, I will come,
and where the seraphim were kneeling I
will bow my head.

He looked at me as He had never
looked before. He drew me with that

GETHSEMA1STI. 207

sad face, and yet He held me back. He
looked beyond me through the garden.
My precious child, He said, you do not
see nor hear. I have taken up your
senses all, and hid them in My breast.
Look there beyond you. See the torches
gleam. Hear the tread of armed men.
Their shouts are breaking on the air
that now was filled with angels' song.
They are pressing through these sacred
shades. They will seize Me, bind Me
with their ropes, beat Me with their
staves, and drag Me off to death. Fare-
well, My child. My hour is come ; re-
member what I am to thee ; be brave
and follow Me to Calvary.

I turned away, but not away from
Him. I was frightened at the noise I
heard. Who could be profane enough to
come with spear and sword within these
sacred shades, where He had suffered
so, where His precious blood had red-
dened all the earth, where the grass

208 GETHSEMAKI.

had taken up His tears, where He was
exhausted unto death ? Yes, who leads
this ruffian band, with faces coarse,
with language vile ? Alas ! the traitor
conies before them. It is Judas, the
apostle ; well he knows this garden of
His Masters woe. With rapid tread
and fearful face, as if some spirit lost
possessed him, he is hurrying on. The
lanterns shine like eyes of evil fire. O
Judas ! stay thy course ! It is not too
late ! The spear of your ingratitude
has surely pierced His breast. Go
kneel as you have often knelt before.
Ask pardon for your foul offence, and
you may feel the grace with which this
garden fills the earth. Stay, thou trai-
tor to thy God ; He will reveal His
person here, and in the majesty divine
will stand before thee ! Then I saw
my mighty King as He arose, and
raised His arm to heaven, and looked
upon His enemies, The torches fell,

GETHSEMANI. 209

the spears and clubs were strewn upon
the ground, and Judas and his band
were as the dead. For a moment
Jesus paused and held His arm above
them as the glory of the Highest passed
before me. My soul was full of praise.
Triumphant songs were on my lips.
"O my Beloved Lord!" I cried, "Thou
art the King! Let these foes of Thine
lie dead before Thee. Let not the ruf-
fians touch Thy sacred flesh. Send
them far away to darkness drear where
spirits of the night shall bind them
hand and foot. Let even Judas fall!
What flame of hell is fierce enough to
burn his treason out ? Oh ! I cannot let
the traitor touch Thee, tender Master
and my Friend. Give me the spear
and let me stand in deadly strife be-
fore him here!" It was but an instant
that I waited then. My Jesus held
me still. The air of majesty supreme
was gone, and on His gentle face the

210 GETHSEMANI.

look of sad submission reigned. I heard
Him say: " Whom seek ye, friends? I
am Jesus ; it is My dearest name. Take
Me at your will, and let My children
leave in peace." Then my Blessed Mas-
ter stood alone. The disciples were
awake from sleep. The sound of arms
had roused them in dismay. Some
passed on and hid themselves amid
the trees. James and John were valiant
to the last, and came behind their Lord,
while Peter drew the sword and struck
for life. With kindling eyes the Mas-
ter saw the wound that Peter made.
He touched the bleeding gash and
healed the foe, and sheathed the sword.
tl Not now to fight for Me. The Lamb
of God is offered by His will. The
martyr's crown shall wait for you when
He is gone. They cannot touch Me
here unless I will. I have shown them
now that I am God. Then let Me
yield Myself, and, as the sheep to slaugh-

GETHSEMANI. 211

ter led, the Eternal Son shall in their
hands be dumb."

Oh ! then I saw the sight which like
a lire is burning in my brain. I saw
the treason reach its highest crime. I
saw the kiss of love become the sign
of foulest treachery. Oh ! can I ever
blot from memory's page this awful
scene ? My blessed Jesus stood so meek
before the clamorous band. With eyes
cast down, with sadness inexpressible,
with sweetness all divine, He crossed
His arms upon His breast and waited
for the traitor. I saw Judas go to meet
Him. What will he do? Will he dare
to touch my Lord? Ah! he will do*
more. I heard him say, turning to the
leaders of his band: " Whomsoever I
shall kiss, that same is He. Then for-
ward come, and bind Him fast." Oh! I
cried, it must not, cannot be ! He shall
not kiss the dearest lips on earth and
heaven, the swollen, bleeding lips of

212 GETHSEMA1ST.

my Beloved. I cannot bear it ! The
sight will kill me ! I will run now and
hold him fast. My trembling arms shall
be as bands of iron to prevent this
sacrilege. O my precious Love ! I will
go before his stealthy steps ; he shall
not touch the lips that are the joy of
angels ! I tried to move. I could not
stir. Some power invisible restrained
my feet while in my grief I saw this
outrage on my Lord. O Judas I fear :
the day of deep remorse shall come.
The worm that never dies shall sting
thee with its cruel fangs. Alas ! I saw
the traitor meet the look of pity from My
Jesus' face with eyes of stone. I heard
him say : "O Rabbi, hail?" I saw his
lips upon the mouth of my most pre-
cious Love. "Oh ! " in ardent grief I cried
— "oh ! shall this traitor vile, who loves
Thee not, presume to take the kiss for
which the saints and angels sigh ? Oh f
that I could pass between this Judas and

GETHSEMANI. 213

my Lord ; that I might kiss the blessed
lips with all the love my soul could
utter to Thee ! Then could I die in
bliss. I cannot bear to see the vile ap-
proach Thee. Thou art the Prince of
hearts, the everlasting King ! And I will
weep mine eyes away that I am bound
and cannot here avenge this outrage
on my Lord." Then did Jesus meekly
speak to Judas, called him friend, and
one more warning gave : " O Mine apos-
tle ! has it come to this ? Is this the
mark of Mine affection turned to treach-
ery base % With the kiss of love dost
thou betray Me here, and is there no
remembrance of the past to lead thee to
repentance % O Judas ! wait. The Vic-
tim of the cross is near. The tree of
life is planted here, and near its root
the flames of hell are burning for thee.
Must I lose thee, then, for ever?"

Then He turned to me, and, while
the tenderness of love was sounding in

214 GETHSEMANI.

His voice, tliere was the shadow of re-
proach. " My child, thou didst promise
to be brave, to follow Me where I
should lead. Go not, then, before Me,
nor anticipate My ways. Thou hast
much to see and much to hear. If
this outrage to My lips so saddens
thee, what wilt thou do when thou
shalt see Me beaten, mocked, mutilated
with the cruel scourge, fainting, dying
on the cross? You must follow Me
and pray for courage and for grace.
You may love Me with a weeping
h^eart ; but the Master leads ; and where
the Lamb is dumb the child must never
speak. Look at my sorrowing face
with tears ; watch My bending form as
long as sight shall last. I will know
that you are near, and I will see your
looks of love. My fainting heart shall
to the last accept the incense which
ascends from yours. But stir not a
hand or foot to take Me from Mv foes,

GETHSEMANI. 215

nor come between the spears now level-
led at My breast. Follow Me, as dumb
as I, and I will show thee how thy
God can die."

I did not move. I had no power. I
saw the traitor point at my Beloved. I
saw the ruffians seize Him with a rude-
ness vile, as if some beast of prey were
in his rage. My Master gave them such
a look of pity and of pain, as He held
out His arms that they might bind
them fast, and bowed His glorious head
tfiat they might take Him at their
will. Oh ! those blessed arms, so dear
to me — the arms that had embraced
me in my grief — they were pinioned
now! And He, so weak, fainting
with the loss of blood, exhausted with
His agony, is bound indeed. Great-
ropes are tied around His waist. They
tear Him with their cruel tension. He
can scarcely breathe. Then I hear a
laughter and the shout of scorn, as

216 GETHSEMAET.

they drag Him with the ropes away.
"The Nazarene is ours," they cry. "He
can no more escape. We will hurry
Him to prison and to death." I watch-
ed my blessed Master as they forced
Him on. He turned and looked upon
the Olive shades once more, as if to say
farewell. I thought He looked at me,
and as my tears flowed on I could not
then restrain my heart. I was forced
to kneel where He had knelt before I
followed in His steps. I could not leave
this sacred watch of prayer, the place
of my espousals to my Love, until I
kissed the earth which He had touched,
until my aching head was bowed where
He had lain, until my streaming eyes
should feel the tears which He had shed.
Oh ! it is too much for one like me to
be where Thou hast been. Dearest Lord,
I must stay here. How can I go away ?
This garden is my home. I cannot bear
the light of earth again. And then my

GETHSEMAISTI. 217

senses seemed to fail. I fell uncon-
scious on the ground, and as I touched
the crimsoned turf my sight was gone.
There came an awful faintness, as my
trembling lips could form no word. I
seemed going, going far from all things
seen. I was running in a fearful haste
to catch my Master's sorrowing face,
which passed before me like the light.

O my Jesus dear ! Thou art gone, but
I will overtake Thee. My rapid breath-
ing now is agony ; I will not lose Thee.
I will die without Thee here ! And
then I heard the shouts again, the
sound of armed men, the curses rising
on the air. Where was I now? I was
running fast, and breathless with fatigue.
The torches gleamed before me, and the
crowd was pushing on. I turned and
tried to see my way. The garden was
no more. How came I here so far from
Him? The brook is passed, and here
the city's walls stand frowning at me.

218 GETHSEMATa.

Where am I going, then, and where,
oh ! where is my Beloved ? He could
not think me traitor, that I was not
brave enough to follow Him, that I did
not love Him well enough to stay until
the end! How long was I unconscious
then % I ran with eager haste ; I
followed as the crowd surrounded me,
and soon I found myself before the
court of Annas. How I entered there,
or how the rabble gave me place, I
could not tell. My heart was lead-
ing me to my Beloved. And when
I saw Him there, His hands so rudely
bound, His head bowed down, His face
so meek, I yearned to throw myself
before His feet, that I might share His
mockery ; for they were mocking Him
with jeer and oath profane. They call-
ed Him traitor to the Jews, the prophet
false, the leader of sedition. He an-
swered not a word. The Lamb of God
indeed was dumb. I could not see His

GETHSEMANI. 219

blessed face, His head was so bent down ;
His eyes seemed closed. To the laugh-
ter, to the curse, no answer came. I
tried to speak for Him. The words
rushed even to my lips : " Jesus, Master,
let me plead for Thee." The power of
speech was gone ; the thought of words
alone remained. Suddenly I heard a
loud and furious cry. "Bind Him fast
and drag Him out ! " I heard them shout.
The ropes were tightened in their cruel
haste. # I saw Him pant for breath. I
knew that He could scarcely stand. I
heard Him fall, and then I saw them
beat Him with their staves, and pull
Him up, and rudely drag Him on.
Oh ! what evil hath He done ? Where,
ye ruffians vile-, where will ye drag Him
now? I know not how I lived. It was
not I ! Some power unseen was moving
me, as like one dead I travelled on. I
seemed to see His sad and tearful face,
and yet I did not see. I seemed to

220 GETHSEMANI.

touch the ropes that dragged Him on,
as if I were bound. And yet there
were no ropes around my hands or feet.
And yet I was not free. O blessed
bonds ! if I am bound with Thee, Thou
Lover of my soul ! I care not where
they force my steps, if I may go with
Thee ! I could not tell the way. My
mind has failed. Was I in prayer for
my Beloved, or had I lost the faculty of
thought? What is this wondrous scene
before me now? It is a palace vast.
There are the seats of judgment all ar-
ranged ; the great high-priest is sitting
here, and all the glory of the Aaronic
line appears in state. My heart is sink-
ing at the sight, as I behold my Master
standing there alone. No friend is near.
He is looking down. He will not raise
His eyes. He will not speak. There is
the clamor of an angry crowd. I could
not hear their words. I saw the form of
Caiaphas as he arose and seemed to ques-

OETHSEMANI. 221

tion Him. Is this the last of that grand
priestly line ? thought I. The glories of
the Aaronic ministry, are they to end
in this sad scene 'j Oh ! how I yearned to
stand beside my Master then, to be His
advocate and plead for Him ! O ye be-
nighted priests ! do ye not know that
He who is arraigned before you is th^
Son of God, the Virgin's Child of pro-
phecy, the Christ so long foretold?
And then I thought I saw the olden
times, the blazing mountain in the wil-
derness, the tabernacle filled with hea-
venly lights the temple with its glories
from on high, the golden mercy-seat
where dwelt the cloud of fire. And as
I looked, before me passed the long
procession of the Levite race, and
Aaron, robed in sacerdotal vestments, led
the train, "Farewell to all the mighty
past," he cried. "This is our dying day.
Before us stands the Eternal Priest ;
the types shall vanish in His light

222 GETHSEMAM.

Yet oh ! the curse that falls upon our
race when consecrated hands shall bind
the Lord of all, when consecrated lips
shall sentence Him to death." And as
before mine eyes this vision passed, I
seemed to see the finger of the great
high-priest, as, pointing to the form of
my Beloved, he was gone. There came
a mournful chant upon my ears : " This
is the end. The top of Sinai bathed
in light, the mountain flaming with
the lightning's flash, is here trans-
formed. The lamb no more shall
bleed upon the mercy-seat ; the veil
that hides the face of God is rent in
twain. The Lamb of God is here, con-
demned to die ; with Calvary's fearful
crime the glories of our priesthood
end in blood." The vision passed; I
looked upon my Master, as He stood
accused, without a word in His de-
fence. It was the last great council of
the Jewish state, and Caiaphas arose

GETHSEMANI. 223

to speak the words of doom. In all
the grandeur of his sacerdotal robes he
bade the clamorous crowd be still :
"No more of laugh and jeer. What
say you of the Nazarene ? Think you
that He is dumb, or that in pride He
will not answer make to God's high-
priest? I will adjure Him by the liv-
ing God ! Art Thou the Christ by pro-
phecy foretold, the great Jehovah's
blessed Son?" Then, indeed, I saw
the majesty divine like flame of fire en-
kindling in the face of my Beloved. His
precious features gleaming as the sun
at noon, He raised His head in all the
dignity of deity ; His form was lifted
up as if He stood upon a cloud whose
golden hue encompassed Him like glit-
tering curtains of the morn. I trembled
as I saw His so transfigured face, and
all my love in highest adoration bowed
before Him. Oh ! the Lamb is dumb no
more. The Eternal Priest will speak.

224 GETHSEMANI.

The dying line of Aaron's race shall
hear: "I am the Son of God. I am
the Christ foretold, the Virgin's Child
and Israel's King. Your fathers have
expected Me. I am the Paschal Lamb.
The priesthood now to cease in woe be-
neath the wrath of Heaven has told of
Me in every sacred rite, in every vic-
tim's blood, in every sacrificial prayer.
The altar speaks of Me ; the temple's
majesty is but the type of My hu-
manity. I am your David' s root ; I am
the bright and morning star. Before
the patriarchal day I am. I am the
victim now. The Lamb of God is led
to slaughter by His own will. Fulfil
your doom. Condemn your God to
death. Behold Me standing here upon
the cloud. My hands are bound, My
feet are tied. There are none to plead
My cause. Look well upon the Naza-
rene, your King. The great Jehovah
of your fathers stands before your bar.

GETHSEMANI. 225

The hour shall come. The cloud that
gathers as a throne beneath His mangled
feet shall rise, and span the heavens
with flame. The dead, awaking from
their graves, shall march in fear before
His seat. The earth itself shall quake,
the rocks of ages melt, the elements
consume in fire. The armies of the
Lord in burning ranks shall kneel be-
fore His feet. The voice of the Eternal
Father shall proclaim Him King. The
Lamb so lowly now shall bid the song
begin: "Lift up, ye everlasting gates!
The Prince of glory comes. Behold
Him sitting on the throne. Adore His
face, ye Cherubim and Seraphim. Wel-
come to the seat of power ; welcome to
His endless reign."

O my Jesus ! how I blessed Thee for
this word, for the glory that encom-
passed Thee in this sad hour. I
thought I felt the angels come and
kneel before Thee. Mine eyes were

226 GETHSEMAKI.

with the vision blest. I seemed to see
the saints of ancient days, prophets,
priests, and kings, as in this judgment-
hall they crowded round Thee. My
heart was full of love and pride. My
Master dear, my God, my King, was
taking to Himself the robes of glory.
Was the Prisoner divine indeed set
free \ Oh ! let me see ! Where has my
vision gone % Does He ascend from
sorrow now ? Are the heavens parting
to receive Him with His train ? Shall I
be with my Love when the golden
doors shall open to the music of His
voice % Oh ! I will see. I will mark
Him well. The cruel ropes, are they
upon Him still ?

I strained my eyes. A cloud had
blinded me. I could only hear. What
tones are these that come to vibrate on
the void which He had filled? It
sounds like herald's cry in notes of
doom. It was the great high-priest

GETHSEMANI. 227

who spoke, the council in its state
around Him. So awful were the words
I seemed to hear, that reason trembled
fearfully as if possessed of horrid
dreams, or by the spectres of the night
bewildered. They called my God blas-
phemer, and on every side arose the
angry shout, "He shall die; the N~aza-
rene shall die ! " Surely these are not
the tones of men alone, not the sen-
tence of the priests. I hear the un-
earthly howl of demons, as amid an
awful chorus the refrain comes back :
"The Nazarene blasphemes! He shall
die! He shall die!"

Where was my blessed Master now
while thus the jeers of earth and hell
surrounded Him ? At first I could not
see ; and then when prayer was strong,
and love like fire was burning up my
heart, the vision came. He was bend-
ing down beneath their blows. Like
ravenous beasts they rushed, they

228 GETHSEMANX.

caught Him by the ropes that held
Him, dragged Him down and fell upon
Him. I heard the sound that rent my
heart as with their hands they beat
His precious face. The priests went
out and left Him to the fury of the
ruffian crowd. It was now the noon
of night, and so they mocked Him till
the dawn. I heard their voices coarse
call Him blasphemer. I heard the
laugh when in derision loud they
called Him prophet and saluted Him
as King. I saw them one by one with
language vile draw near and spit upon
Him ! Where was I then to see a sight
like this and live? That precious face
so dear to me, the sunlight of my
soul, was with their spittle, mixed with
mire, defiled. His cheeks were swoll-
en with the bruise ; His eyes were
nearly closed. He could not raise His
hands to wipe away the tears, to
stanch the blood, for they were bound.

GETHSEMAffL 229

0 my clearest Love ! I prayed, let me
draw near with all the tenderness which

1 have learned from Thee ! I ]ove Thy
face above the power of words to tell.
Can I see it thus disfigured with the
scorn of men ? Oh ! I am now like
Thee: I am dumb; I cannot speak;
but let me come, and Thy poor weep-
ing child will bless Thee in eternity.
Oh! if I colli d dare to kiss away the
spittle and the mire! Oh! give 'me,
Lord, the treasure of one tear ! They
must not touch the face divine ; they
shall not mock my God, O ray Mas-
tor! give me strength, and I will come.

His arms, so firmly bound, were strong
enough to hold me back, He did not
open once His mouth. There was not
a word to hear, but blows were fall-
ing fast, and falling on my heart as
they smote Him.

There was a voice within my soul
that ruled my every sense. My Love

230 GETIISEMANI.

divine needs not the use of words.
"My precious child," He said, " be-
ware ! This is the demons' hour. I am
their sport. They are mocking Me be-
cause I bear the sinner's part. You see
they hurt Me with their staves, tear
Me with their thongs, bruise Me with
their hands. I feel as God alone can
feel the outrage to My face. Their
spittle rests within Mine eyes, runs
down upon My mouth. Who now
would recognize this face of Mary's
Child ? My tears are freely shed. I
cannot keep them back, for oh ! My
agonizing heart is taking up a sorrow
new. There is a pang that stings Me
now and quite overwhelms Me. I must
bid the angels come unseen to hold
Me up a little, lest I fall. Think you
it is this mockery which thus unnerves
My strength, this scorn which opens
up the fountain of My tears ? Oh !
no. I bear full well these jeers that

GETHSEMANI. 231

come from foes. The wounds within
My hands, they ache the most. My
friend, My great apostle, leader of My
little band, hath thrice denied Me,
hath denied Me with an oath. I heard
that oath above the curses of this
angry crowd, and it hath struck My
heart. I can hear no other sound.
The awfal words are ringing in My
ears. I cannot shut them out: 'I
know Him not ; I am not His ; I have
never been with Him ; I know Him
not.'

•' I saw how demons dire surround-
ed him in conflict fearful to his
soul. He could have died for Me ; but
when I sheathed his sword and tried
his tender heart, the light of hope
gave out and courage failed. He is re-
penting now ; but yet the words are
spoken. His Master, bound, despised,
and mocked, arraigned before the coun-
cil of the state, condemned to death,

232 GETHSEMANI.

lie hath denied. Oh! the agony of
this sad fall ; it hurts My love, it
makes My heart to bleed, Its bitter-
ness is crushing him. Remorse like
angry clouds is shutting out the rays
of heaven. The hosts of hell are bid-
ding him despair. I will help him
with My pity sweet. I am sending
graces strong to hold him up. The
flood of light from out My sorrowing
soul is drawing near to cheer his peni-
tence. I will take the gloom and send
him peace. Go, angels bright who
wait My will, on whom I lean amid
these awful mockeries — go bind his
wounds, go lead him here. Let Me
look with My divine affection ; let Me
heal the sorrow which My tears alone
can cure. I will show to him My face.
The lines of grief are there. They can-
not fade away so soon. But in My
weeping eyes he shall behold a pardon
full, a mighty love he never saw before.

GETHSEMANI. 233

He shall see how I forgive ; I take
him closer to My breast, and for his
fearful fall he shall the stronger,
dearer be. Look ! there he conies. See
how changed he is. He hath grown
old within one night. He walks with
trembling steps, as if he feared to
come. He little knows My angels hold
him up. His form is bent. He cannot
raise his head. His tears like torrents
flow. He cannot speak. How could
he speak above the din of jeer, and
oath, and blows? His heart is full of
prayer, and I, his God, can hear ! See,
he tries to kneel ; the angels raise him
up. Slowly, fearfully his head is turn-
ed to Me. I am thus helping him to
lift his swollen eyes and look on Me.
See now the anguish of that face, the
deep remorse, the promise of fidelity,
of constancy to death."

My Master looked on him ! O sweet-
est spirits of the heavenly court ! let

234 GETHSEMANI.

your sympathy divine surround my
blessed Love, to praise Him where T
fail, for such a look as that ! Be-
neath the blows He stood, the mire
and spittle on His face, with form so
crushed, as if His heart was welling
tears. There came a look so full of
tenderness, that depths of mercy infi-
nite revealed the majesty of God ; that
gentleness like gems of uncreated light
was sitting on His royal brow ; and on
His precious mouth there spoke the
pity of a soul divine. Who could with-
stand that look ? O my Jesus dear !
how can I thank Thee that I saw Thee
then % I had often watched Thy bless-
ed face. I have followed Thee in sor-
rows drear. I have seen Thee in Thy
woes ; and every time I looked on
Thee the mighty power of Thine at-
tractions hath revealed some treasure
new of Thine untold grace. I had
often prayed that I might only look,

GETHSEMANI. 235

and never even speak, How can I
speak when I am lifting up my eyes
to Thee ! Yet now I see upon Thy
bruised and mangled face, so sad and
yet so full of sweet compassion, the
pardon Grod alone can give. O gentle
Shepherd ! how I love Thee now !
Thou dost find a joy to seek Thy wan-
dering flock. Thou dost not mind the
aching of Thy wounds, the bleeding of
Thy hands and feet and shoulders bare.
Thou art leading home the pastor of
the sheep. That strong and earnest
soul shall faint no more. Let one like
me, the price of Thine indulgent love,
kneel here and pray and weep. Oh !
well I know that tender look was not
alone for Thine apostle in his fall. It
was for me ! He did deny Thee once.
I have denied Thee many times. In
the face of danger, when all earth and
heaven arrayed themselves against his
Lord, his courage failed. I, poor way-

236 GETHSEMANI.

ward child, have turned from Thee for
things of sense. No foe was near. No
danger frightened me. I did forget
that Thou wast mine, and in deed, if not
in word, I said, UI know Thee not."
With those who crucified my God I
walked. Sometimes there was a god
of gold, sometimes a sensual god ;
sometimes I bowed my heart, espoused
to Thee, to pride. Sometimes Thy ten-
der hands were holding me, and I have
wrestled with Thy grace that I might
break away from Thee and Thy re-
straints. Now, in bitterness of deep re-
morse, I kneel before Thee, O my Mas-
ter dear ! I never knew till now the
depth of my inconstancy. With Thine
npostle, so convulsed with grief, let me
bow down. I have seen Thy pardon-
ing face. It ha th moved me, too. Thou
hast touched the spring that in the
time to come shall never cease to flow.
The fountain of repenting tears is open

GETHSEMANI. 237

now. Oh ! let me liide myself awhile.
I cannot leave Thee here^ but I will
hide from all but Tliee. Oh ! that the
clouds that cover Thee could fall upon
me now, and like a mantle drear con-
ceal my weeping eyes from all but
Thine ! With all my heart I bless
Thee for this look ! The pastor of Thy
flock, the vicar of Thy grace, shall be
my guide. His tears shall intercede for
mine.

My Master heard my prayer. There
came a cloud indeed and hid me in its
folds. It was not the blackness of the
sky. It was not the absence of the
light. It was not a simple solitude
where all created things had ceased to
be. The waters of remorse engulfed my
soul. I saw my sins as one by one
they crushed me with their fearful
weight. Each infidelity of all my life ;
each act or word wherein I had denied
the heavenly Bridegroom dear to whom

238 GETHSEMANI.

I pliglited all my heart ; each coldness
to His yearning grace, all came be-
fore me now. I saw them in my Mas-
ter's face. I read them in His tears.
They then awoke to voice and spoke
to me in sighs, the sobs of my afflicted
Lord. Deeper, deeper grew the gloom.
Down, down the opening chasm did I
fall. And yet the light of hope was
burning in my soul; for, as senses fail-
ed and sight was gone, I saw that
look of mercy sad, of that compassion
infinite.

How long this cloud was covering
me I cannot tell. It seemed an age,
as if the countless years had travelled
on their march while I lay weeping,
hidden in the depths, conscious only
of my sin and my unworthiness of
Him. When I awoke the night had
passed. Where am I now ? I cried. Is
this the light of da^y ? I thought that
day had ceased to be. Oh ! tell me, is

GETHSEMANI. 239

it day \ And if this be day, how is it
measured by the stars ! Oh ! did the
sun arise? I thought the sun had died.
And if this be light, oh ! tell me where
I am ; where is my Master now % Stop !
I do begin to see ! Hark ! I seem to
hear. Oh ! am I coming back to life ?
Then tell me what is life ?

What sounds are these I hear? What
are these palace walls ? Surely this is
not the council- chamber of the Jews !
I cannot bring to life my senses dim.
These halls are strange to me. How
came I here % I did not know that I
had moved. And now again upon my
ears resounds the clamor of a crowd. I
feel my Blessed Lord is here. Hark !
I hear His precious name. And voices
coarse accusing Him of blasphemy de-
mand His death. An awful shout with
angry oaths comes up like frantic rage
of demons in the flames of hell: "Let
Him be crucified ! Away with David's

240 GETHSEMANI.

Son ! Let Jesus die, like one accursed,
upon the cross ! "

This fearful cry awoke my wonder-
ing mind. My sight returned. Surely
these are Roman soldiers standing on
their guard. I see the conquering eagle
gleam above their ranks. They form
in close array around a throne where
sits in solemn pomp the representa-
tive of Ceesar's power. The captive
race, the pride of God's elect, bows
down to pagan sway. Jerusalem, in
bondage vile, demands the crucifixion
of its King. How came I here in
Pilate's court? How was my Beloved
dragged from cruel mockery, from
blows and scorn, to this dread scene %
Oh! is His death so near? He told
me of His cross, and yet my sluggish,
loving heart could never follow Him.
Alas! the end is nigh. I must see
Him once again. O angels ! lift me up
above the crowd, above this failing

GETHSEMAKI. 241

sight, that yet again my eyes may
rest on Him, my Master and my God,
my only Love ! I know not how it
was. I am as bjind as those that never
saw. I am as dumb as those that
never spoke. The darkness passed.
There came a ray of light, and in its
beams I saw the form majestic of my
Lord. I saw again His blessed face.
He stood in bonds before the judg-
ment throne. The Judge of quick and
dead is on His trial now. His eyes
were looking up as if to scenes beyond
the earth. There was a sadness dark
as night upon His brow, while peace
that seemed the eternal calm of God
was reigning there. O Master dear !
indeed I kneel before you now. Your
loving child is at your feet. He can-
not speak. He scarcely lives. He is
all for Thee. What happened then I
do not know. I thought I kissed His
precious feet, until the tears had told

242 GETHSEMAKI.

Him of my new-born love. How can
this happiness be mine? I cried. I
here have found my home. Nor earth
nor heaven can tear me from my Mas-
ter's feet. I was so happy then, al-
though my heart was panting with its
grief. Precious, precious feet, my hands
shall hold you fast for ever !

Suddenly I heard another voice, when
Pilate rose. " Ye stubborn race of
Jews, why seek you this man's life?
I see no cause of death. I hear your
angry cries. Your witnesses are false.
You free the murderer vile. You ask
the pardon of the lowest criminal on
this your festal day. Like raging
beasts you cry against the Nazarene.
You are thirsting for His blood. You
shall satiate your thirst. Here, guards,
go take Him to the pillar in the court.
There bind Him fast. Let Him be
scourged. Mind not the Roman law ;
He is a Jew. He seems scarcely living

GETHSEMANI. 243

now. If He survive this loss of blood,
this deathlike pain, you cannot ask
that He be crucified."

These awful words aroused me from
my dear repose. I seemed to hold His
precious feet, now moistened by my
tears ; and when I touched them with
my lips some mighty strength renewed
the courage of my love. The words
of Pilate were a knell to me. I strug-
gled hard to hold the feet that now
were dearer to my heart than life itself.
I was foolish then. I little knew how
weak I was. Oh ! cried I, take me !
Take me in my Master's place. I will
bleed or die for Him ; let me be scourg-
ed. My precious Jesus, may Thy lov-
ing child do this for Thee?

I heard no word as from the blessed
feet I sought His face. There was a
look that spoke a fall response. It
was not reproach. It was not surprise.
It seemed to say: "You know not

244 GETHSEMANI.

what you ask. You could not bear
one blow, unless the scourge should
first fall heavily on Me. Did I bring
you once from deserts wild, a wander-
ing sheep ? Where is the pasture of
My flock, the home within My heart,
unless these shoulders bleed? How
often have the senses led you into sin,
and vanities of earth beguiled you from
My arms ! These sins are laid upon
my shoulders bare. The scourge alone
can draw the blood that washes them
away. Oh ! let Me go, My child ; you
cannot hold Me now. Unloose My
feet. I go to be baptized indeed for
you."

The ruffians rushed like maddened
beasts of prey. They tore me from my
Lord. With cruel violence they drag-
ged Him out. Within the hall and in
the courts their shout resounds: "Un-
to the scourge, the JNazarene ! Yet slay
Him not. Go tear Him with the thongs

GETHSEMAKI. 245

and let Him freely bleed, but spare
Him for the cross. With criminals
among the skulls, there let Him die!"

The scene that passed before me
then no tongue of mine can tell. I
know not how I lived, and yet I did
not live. I thought I died, and yet it
was not death. There was no judgment
scene. The face of the celestial King
was hid. There were no angels there.
I did not even feel the spirits of the
air. I can only try to speak, and yet
the words are strange to me, as if some
other lips than mine were speaking
them. Oh ! give me aid, ye angels that
have voice ! Oh ! help my nothingness,
Thou Spirit all-creating, Thou that giv-
est beauty to the void, and form to
shapeless chaos !

Oh ! what did I behold ? There wras
a pillar there within the open court.
They dragged my Master there. They
stripped Him of His robe. His blessed

246 GJETHSEMANI.

arms they rudely strained, and bound
them far above His head. And when I
saw His shoulders bare, His back ex-
posed before the angry crowd, His vir-
gin flesh for sinful eyes to look upon,
for sinful hands to touch, my life seem-
ed sinking far away, my heart refused
to beat. "O my Jesus!" did I sob.
"This sight is far too much for me.
Thy poor and feeble child will die. He
is not living now." And then there
came a love within my soul that seem-
ed to take the place of life. It was
only love. It was not I. This is the
flesh of my Beloved ! This is the food
of virgin hearts. This is the bread by
which the pure shall live.

Then, while my heart exulted in the
thought that this dear flesh of Mary's
Child was mine, and heaven's wide
windows opened to my longing gaze,
where virgins walked in raiment white
with lilies crowned, I saw the ruflian

GETHSEMANI. 247

arms uplifted to their utmost strength,
and heard the blows which fell with
leaden weight. They ploughed great
seams upon His back ; they tore His
flesh with thongs that bared the bone*
His mangled shoulders were like many
cruel wounds, one sightless mass of
curdling blood. He bent beneath the
fearful pain. I could not see His face.
His head was bowed. T saw Him trem-
ble as His hands held fast the ropes,
and fierce convulsions, like the strug-
gles dire of death with manhood's
strength, were shaking all His frame,
until his tottering limbs gave way. I
saw Him turn as white as is the icy
coldness of the dead, and then as red
as blood which streamed with feverish
heat from bruised and mangled veins.
I know not how I looked. Some
mighty power then held me there and
forced my eyes ; I could not turn away.
So, like the corpse that cannot move,

248 GETHSEMAjSTI.

whose glassy eyes are fixed and seem
to stare on vacancy, my sightless orbs
were hanging on the scene. Was I
fainting, dying there ? Oh ! it was far
more. Did I see or did I feel ? I know
my Master fell ; I heard a groan. I
saw His bleeding back, His face as
white as death, and then I knew no
more. There came an awful sickness
at my heart, where every pulse was
still and sight and sense were gone. I
was falling, falling as in endless depths.
Would there never come a pause?
Must I sink eternally ? And then when
ages seemed to pass and I was sinking
still, my feet were resting on some solid
base, and I was running, running on,
so wearied I could scarcely stand, and
yet I ran. Some power unseen was
driving me with limbs exhausted and
with panting breath. Oh ! can I
never stop ? I cried. Then afar, where
distance seemed impassable, the bleed-

GETHSEMANI. 249

ing form of my Beloved ran before
me. The pillar moved as fast as
He. The mangled shoulders shone
like light. I was travelling in the
might no force of mine could disobey,
and still so far before me moved the
deathlike face. I was losing step by
step my strength. At last I sobbed :
"O my Jesus, loving, bleeding Master!
do not fly from me ! Oh ! let me come.
I am dying now. I must not die away
from Thee." And then I fell indeed.
It was not sleep ; it was not death.
One sense alone remained ; and was it
sight? For, burning in my brain like
fire that melts the metals in their
strength, there was the pillar and the
scourge, the gashed and mangled back,
the trembling frame, the swollen eyes
of my Beloved.

Then, if I had thought, the thought
was prayer. I called my Master by His
dearest names. I wrestled with my-

250 GETHSEMANI.

self that I might speak. There was no
voice while love was in my heart like
flame, a love that sought the pinioned
arms, that nestled in the point of thong
and scourge, and rested on the naked
breast.

Before me ran the precious blood.
It was the stream of life. Is this the
heaven where crystal waters glide, where
sparkling waves like gems reflect the un-
created light ? Oh ! no, this cannot be,
for here is pain, and here is grief, and
here the shadow of the cross ! Yet rest
awhile and bathe within this stream,
and thou shalt see how every shadow
falls, how every stain is washed away,
how white and pure thy hands and
heart shall be. And then it seemed that
I was not alone. I woke to sounds so
soft and sweet that fear was passing
from my soul, and joy was coming with
my tears. How can I smile ? I cried ; how
can my heart be glad amid these awful

GETHSEMANX. 251

scenes ? Where, oh ! where is my Belov-
ed gone ? I cannot see Him now. The
pillar and the scourge are vanished, too.
If you are angels come to guide my sor-
rowing steps, then lead me after Him.
I must be sad ; I cannot now- rejoice !
Then came a strain of song celestial from
unearthly harps— a song so full of sad-
ness sweet, and yet so mighty in its
power, that I was borne along upon its
gentle tide, and peace like that of heaven
was sinking in my troubled heart. Surely
these are messengers of light. They are
the angels of the King. How came they
here within these caverns drear ? What
canticles of grace are sounding now?
There passed before my eyes a vi-
sion blest of saints in glad array with
glittering crowns and raiment white.
They were marching on and moving to
the song. There were virgins then
with lilies pure upon their heads.
There were martyrs wearing crimson

252 GETHSEMANI.

robes and bearing in their hands the
palm. And pontiffs led the priestly
train, as on their ranks the cross was
shining like a golden snn. The long
procession moved before me like the. pa-
geant of a prince upon his coronation
day. I heard the words of their celes-
tial song, as spirits leading on were fill-
ing all the air with melody. "Come
virgins pure, come spouses of the Lamb,
come to the crowning of the King. Lift
up the notes of minstrelsy divine. Sing,
Cherubim and Seraphim, before the
throne."

And I was moving on with them.
My feeble tongue, unloosed, was join-
ing in the strain ; and rapture like the
ecstasy of heaven was stealing o'er my
powers. How can I chant this Avon-
drous song 1 How can my lips awake
the notes of joy ? Where is my bleed-
ing King ? where is the pillar now ?
where is the throne ? Oh ! where shall

GETHSEMANI. 253

He be crowned on this His dying day?
And yet my voice went on, as if an
angel touched my mouth and words un-
bidden came: "Come virgins pure,
come spouses of the Lamb, come to the
crowning of the King/'

Was this the vision which my pre-
cious Master gave my fainting soul to
cheer me in my sorrowing way % Oh ! did
His mercy open then mine eyes that I
might see, and by the sight be strength-
ened when the deeper darkness fell I
I only know that suddenly the awful
transformation came. The light went
out ; the music ceased ; the angels
passed away ; the virgin train was gone.
And I was standing all alone. And
then instead of heavenly harps I heard
the clash of arms, the jeers of human
voices coarse. " Behold the King," they
cried. "Come bow before Him here.
The JSazarene is sitting here in regal
state. Behold the purple robe he wears,

GETHSEMANI.

the sceptre in his hand, the crown upon
His head. This is the royal prince of
David's line." And then foul curses
rent the air with laughing mockery.
How came I here ? The spirits pure
were guiding me. Is this the throne
oi Mary's Child and Q-od's eternal Son?
Is this the coronation-day the angels'
songs were telling of when I was mov-
ing to the tune of their celestial strains ?
O my Master dear ! lift up my face
and let me look on Thee. If this be
really Thou, my God, my All, why
cease the seraphs' notes, and where are
gone the spouses of the Prince, the glo-
ries of Thy virgin train? Why is this
Thy feeble child alone amid the ribald
jests and oaths of blasphemy ? He gave
me strength to raise mine eyes, where
once again I saw His blessed face. He
even looked at me and smiled. I saw
him sitting on a bag of straw. There
was a worn and tattered purple rag

GETHSEMANI. 255

around his shoulders bruised and bare.
In His right hand He held a reed. Up-
on His royal head there was a crown
of thorns. The thorns were sharp and
long. I saw the soldiers strike it with
their spears. I saw the look of pain
that forced the blood from every point.
I saw the swollen eyes from which the
tears ran down. I saw Him tremble as
the anguish grew with every blow.
"Oh! indeed," cried I, " this is the
crowning of the King. He is the King
of heaven and all the earth ; He is the
Master of my soul. But oh ! is this His
coronation-day? And is He thus ar-
rayed, the heavenly purple torn aside,
the reed of straw the sceptre of the
eternal Son, the only crown a diadem
of thorns? O my Prince ! is this the
crown Thy children give ? Is this the
throne prepared for Thee on earth V*
And then my love went up to Him
with prayer, with all the incense of

256 GETHSEMANI.

my heart. "O my Jesus !" sighed my
soul, "if this indeed be now Thy coro-
nation-hour, if this Thy chosen regal
state, then bid the angels come again,
and tune my voice that I may sing Thy
praise."

Alas ! the heavenly harps were still.
There was no response. I know not
how I drew so near, but I was kneel-
ing at His feet. "Dear, precious feet,"
I sighed, "now you are mine again.
My Master, how I love Thee, how I
worship Thee with all the powers of
thought or soul ! Rule my every facul-
ty and be in truth my King ! Reign
for ever, Prince of peace, and in the
glory of Thy kingdom come!"

Alas ! my peace was short ; the bliss
of touching Him soon passed, and I
was rudely torn away. The ruffians came
once more to beat Him with their
hands, to spit upon His swollen face,
to press the agonizing crown upon His

GETHSEMANI. 257

temples gashed and raw, to mock His
tears, to strike Him with His reed of
straw.

Then how I prayed, while deadly
faintness came, and all my sight was
gone. There was no sense, yet fast
within my brain in lines of fire I felt
the picture of my thorn-crowned King.
"O Master dear! I die to all but
Thee. Canst Thou speak to me again
before they drag Thee to Thy cross!
This is, I know, the day of Thine espou-
sals pure. For virgin souls the hea-
venly Bridegroom comes. For them He
wears the crown upon His head divine.
For them it is a crown that bleeds. I
can hardly live, I love Thee so. The
springs of life are nearly quenched to
see Thee in the pain the nuptial gar-
ment brings. From every piercing point
there is a drop of blood for me. Why
dost Thou tremble so, my blessed One 1
Too heavy is the burden Thou art

258 GETHSEMAIST.

bearing now ! Oil ! do not faint again.
Thy loving child is near to death. If
Thou dost fall upon Thy throne, then
he will die indeed!"

My spirit seemed to pass away from
earth, but not from Him. He was near
me all the while, and soon when shadowy
forms were crowding round, and faces
of the dead were staring full on me, I
heard His voice. It was weak — alas !
how weak — and yet, like whisper faint,
it roused my every sense. O the pre-
cious hour ! I cannot lose a word.
This is the message from my King. It
is His coronation-day :

" My child, thy Bridegroom is indeed
a King. The diadems of heaven by
right are His. Where Cherubim and
Seraphim are bowing down, beyond the
sea of glass, He sits upon the eternal
throne. Yet hath He taken thy hu-
manity for love of thee, that He may
reign as man and make His loving

GhETHSEMANI. 259

heart the centre of His sway. So must
He lead the souls He seeks to purify
where earth shall lose its charms, where
pride shall die. There is no earthly
crown that He could wear upon His
head divine. The gems the world
adores reflect alone created light.
What is that light to Him who is the
brightness of the Father's face, who is
the sun of the celestial sphere? He
cometh to atone for sin, to pay the
debt for all the fallen race, to wash
with blood the stains no fount but that
which springeth from His veins could
cleanse. The children born of Him must
crown Him with their hands, and He
must bleed from every thorn, that all
their sins of thought and foolish pride
may rest upon His royal head, that in
His anguish fierce all human love may
die, and all the springs of thought and
will be purified.

" Behold Me, then, a thorn-crowned

260 GETHSEMANl.

King. I rule by pain. I suffer for the
pride of those I love. It is a struggle
long, a battle dire to conquer each re-
bellious foe, that those who choose Me
for their spouse may thus be truly one
with Me in heart and will ; that all
self-love shall cease ; that they may
have no thought but Mine. I am their
King ; they call Me Master dear, but
every moment they are pressing thorns
upon My brow. Sometimes they glory
in My gifts as if their own ; sometimes
they seek to lead me in their ways ;
sometimes refuse to follow patiently My
steps ; sometimes they pride themselves
upon the pledges of My heart, the ring
I put upon their hand, the cross they
yrear upon their breast. And then, for-
getful of the jealous God whose eyes
are open everywhere, they offer incense
to self-will, and blindly turn away in
paths unblest and wander far from Me.
The love of creatures they have cruci-

GETHSEMANI. 261

fled, while love of self is poisoning all
their life. They enter on the way of
saints, but cannot die to live, or sink
to nothingness that thus, indeed, their
heavenly Spouse may reign alone. And
so they press the sharpened points up-
on My head, and I must feel the hurt
which breaks My heart. They cannot
love Me for Myself, or they forget that
I am God, whose wisdom hath no bounds,
who could not fail to guide aright His
chosen souls. I cannot lead them to the
pastures of My choice ; I cannot fold
them to My breast ; I cannot kiss them
with My lips. They only touch the
thorns. They wound themselves and
Me. I am wrestling with them all their
lives. They are ever hurting Me, ever
pressing down My crow^n of pain. I can-
not purify their thoughts. I cannot kill
desires, cannot make them all My
own.

" Could I tell you, 0 My loving child !

262 GETHSEMA1ST.

how glad I am to wear this crown ? It
is the secret of My sway o'er hearts
that bleed. It is the sign of heavenly
life where nature dies. And yet the
pain is known to God alone. Did ever
bridegroom struggle with his bride, or
lover with the loved, as I must wrestle
with the chosen souls who call Me
Spouse ? The pride of all the earth, the
root of every sin, every rent of this My
seamless robe, every wound upon My
body mystical, are thorns within My
crown. Oh ! how My temples ache ;
oh ! how the brain is burning as with
thousand fires ; oh ! the agony untold
of this My coronation- day. And yet
the thorns that hurt Me most are those
that come from loving hands, from those
who call Me Bridegroom dear, from
those who seek to honor Me. I ask
their hearts, their souls, their minds,
their strength. They cannot even see
how every thought of infidelity is hurt-

GETHSEMANI. 263

ing Me. I want them at My side ; I
want them on My breast ; I yearn to
clasp them closely with Mine arms, that
they may look on Me, and I may let
them see, indeed, the face of their Be-
loved in all His winning charms. They
will not come. They stand afar. They
seem afraid to touch My hand. I know
it bleeds, but bleeding is the sign of
love. Ah ! no ; I must endure this
pain. Oh ! let the thorns go down. It
will ease My heart to suffer all the
sharpest pangs for them. When they
have wounded Me enough, then they
may learn the tenderness of their Be-
loved, and they may feel what might
have been the fondness of My sweet
caress, if they had not repulsed Me
with a cold neglect. Who are they that
never touched My crown, who never
gave Me pain ? Their names are written
here within My heart. They shall walk
with Me in white. They have passed

264 GETHSEMAKI.

before Me in the glittering train. With
angels they have come to chant their
coronation- song. They are the children
of the Queen, the spotless Mother of
her God. To her I owe this bright ar-
ray, for she hath taught to virgin souls
how Mary's child can love.

" And now you hear the blessed name
of the Immaculate. Go meet her as she
comes. Go pray to her for grace to
know the riches of the heart that
calleth you from every earthly tie. Go
kneel where she shall kneel. Go look
upon her blessed face and put your
hands in hers. Then let Me rest awhile
upon this throne of straw, here gather
up My strength that I may tread the
weary road, that I may take My cross
and bear it to the hill of sacrifice. I
see the painful path, the cleft within
the rock, the mouldering skulls, the
open grave."

When thus my Master spoke I shud-

GETHSEMANI. 265

dered at the words, while faintness
seized upon my heart. I bowed my
face upon the earth, and prayed for-
grace to feel the thorns my wilful pride
had pressed upon His head. If I might
feel the pain, or even share the anguish
I had brought on Him, it seemed I
might repent, that I might love Him
more, and never once again be base
enough to wound Him so. Too well
my daring prayer found answer on this
dreadful day. The faintness I had felt
grew like the agony of death. My
pulses ceased, my limbs grew cold.
Sharp pangs like thorns were piercing
down my brain, and every point seemed
like a tongue of fire. It was no earthly
fire. I knew of pain that in its dire
excess uplifts the reason from her seat
and hangs the tortured frame upon the
borderline of life. Yet this was more.
My head seemed shut within a vise of
iron heated hot, and then some mighty

266 GETIISEMAKI.

Land was forcing down the burning
points. And with this awful agony
there came a fear that seemed more
direful than the thorns. Oh! had I
grieved again my Master dear? Had
Ipresumed to ask for pain? Was one
like me so bold to come where angels
are afraid ? Oh ! could I touch the
footprints of my Love, or dare to put
my hands upon His crown ? I could
do much if He were there to hold me
up ! If He, my strength, were gone
one second from my sight, then surely
I should faint and fall. And now where
is my Love ? I see Him not. I cannot
even feel. Here was the throne of straw,
and here the King was crowned, and
here He spoke to me ! And now the
thorns are killing me, and I am left
alone ! Alas ! some fearful dream is
passing o'er my brain, and when I
wake, my soul shall be aroused to sor-
rows new. Is this, indeed, the day of

GETHSEMANI. 267

doom % Wliat makes me tremble so,
and why am I so cold? The grave it-
self can never be like this !

O Master dear, my King ! I cried.
Show me Thy face once more. Oh! tell
me, is Thy trial ended now?

As suddenly as light the scene was
changed. The palace- walls were once
again before mine eyes. The crowd was
surging round the court. Coarse voices
shouted long and loud: " Let Him be
crucified!" "Let Csesar's rival die!
The Roman Csesar is our king. This
is the Nazarene. Command Him to the
cross. Upon the hill of skulls let Him be
crucified." And then I raised my eyes,
and there He stood upon the mighty
portico of Pilate's hall. He stood be-
fore the furious mob, before the priests
in full array, before the soldiers with
their spears, before the Roman gover-
nor, who seemed to fear to speak. His
hands were bound, the purple robe was

268 GETHSEMANI.

on His breast, the crown of thorns was
on His head. His face was bowed, His
eyes cast down. He seemed so weak
that death was surely nigh. And yet
the majesty of God was clothing Him
as if with light from heaven. I heard
the Roman say: " Behold the Man."
" Behold your King." And then I
heard again the angry clamor rise :
"Great Caesar is our king." "Let Him,
the Nazarene, be crucified." Then while
I looked and loved, as I had never
loved before, I seemed to catch the
notes of some celestial song which, far
above the sinful noise of earth, was
sounding in the skies: " Indeed be-
hold the Man, the Virgin's Child, the
Word made flesh, the Adam of the new
and living race. All worthy is the
Lamb that dies. Upon His royal head
be honor, wisdom, strength. To Him
let every creature bow from heaven's
eternal arch to earth's remotest bound.

GETHSEMANT. 269

To Him who sitteth on the throne be
adoration paid. This is the Son of
God. Sing, ye choirs of spirits blest ;
come sing His everlasting reign." * These
heavenly notes a moment cheered my
drooping soul. The clouds that gather-
ed round My Love in bonds, an instant
broke in light, and rays of uncreated
brilliancy were beaming on my Master's
bowed but royal head.

Yet soon the song had ceased, the
light was gone, the cloud returned, the
darkness grew apace.

There was an awful moment then.
The soldiers heard the voice of Pilate
there, and stood with their uplifted
spears. In trembling tones he spoke :
" Behold the Nazarene. You ask His
life. I see no cause why He should die.
I hear your witnesses in vain. I know
your accusations false. And yet you
will not rest until you lead Him to a

* Apocalypse v. 8-13.

270 GETHSEMAISTI.

shameful death. In Caesar's name you
ask the cross. In Caesar's regal state,
against my will, against the voice of
right, o'erwhelmed with many fears, I
grant your wish. His blood shall rest
on you and all your guilty race. I
shall pronounce the fearful doom that
sinks the glory of your land, the com-
ing of your endless night. I sentence
unto death your King. Behold Him
crowned with thorns. Go take Him to
the cross and lead Him off to Golgotha.
Between the malefactors let Him die.
, Yet shall He wear in death the title
of a prince, and from the cruel gibbet
reign. Let the trumpets blow. Through-
out the Soman's wide domain announce
His doom."

There was an instant's pause. My
heart was sinking in the depths of
fear and grief and shame, and every
struggling breath was love or prayer.
The soldiers seized my precious Lord ;

GETHSEMANI. 271

with, hands so rude they tore the pur-
ple robe away. They threw the reed
upon the ground. They ^rought the
seamless garment which His Mother
made, and on His bleeding shoulders
clothed Him once again. With cruel
violence they pressed the thorns upon
His brow. They bound Him with their
ropes around His waist, and as the Ro-
man trumpets blew they dragged Him
on. The sun was rising to its noon,
and yet the sky was like the coming of
a fearful storm, or as the shadows that
precede the night. I heard the tramp
of arms, the shouts that rose on every
side like voices from the depths of hell.
I saw the sad procession move. They
led the way to Calvary. Their spears
were pointing to the hill. My Blessed
Lord was passing from my sight. I fell
upon my knees. I kissed the ground
His feet had blessed. 1 ran before the
crowd, and as they pushed Him rudely

272 GETHSEMANI.

on I bowed before Him with a yearn-
ing heart. " Jesus, Master, let me go
with Thee. Where art Thou guiding
now Thy broken-hearted child? I will
follow in Thy steps, and like burning
flames to Thee my love shall rise. Thy
footprints crimsoned with Thy blood
will I adore." He turned and smiled
on me ; and oh ! for all eternity my
heart shall treasure up that smile. His
face was sad and pale. His eyes were
full of tears. His precious lips were
trembling as He seemed to say : " I am
condemned to death. Now let Me look on
thee. Art thou indeed My spouse ? Then
pray for grace. I go before thee with My
staff and rod. The clouds shall cover thee
in gloom. The waters cold shall swallow
thee with Me. The mountain-tops shall
fall, the earth shall quake. The prince of
fear shall reign. Yet come, My loving
child ! The Bridegroom leads the sorrow-
i ng way. The Spirit bids the bride to come."

Meditation Eighth.

THE WAY TO CALVARY.

MEDITATION EIGHTH.

THE WAY TO CALVABT.

" I sleep, and my heart watcheth : the voice of my Beloved
knocking: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my unde-
filed : for my head is full of dew, and my locks of the drops of
the night.1'— Canticles v. 2.

My soul was sad. I heard my Master
tell of sadness unto death, when in the
garden He endured the sharpness of His
woe, when there the shades of sorrow
covered Him, while thus the heart di-
vine was broken with the grief. I only
touched the border of the cloud. My
feeble sight could only see the outline
of the shadow dense and drear. The
little life I had seemed lost in Him, and
pangs of superhuman pain were blind-
ing every sense. Yet there in all the

275

276 GETHSEMAJSTL

awful night my Blessed Love was nigh.
And I was watching then ; and if my
tears were flowing fast, my weeping was
for Him.

But now the fear of parting comes.
The end draws near. The precious Mas-
ter of my soul will die ! I know that
He must die. This fearful hour has
been my dread. The hour has come !
The altar is in sight. The Victim has-
tens there. The hill of Calvary frowns
before mine eyes. I see the cross. I see
the sad yet willing face of my Beloved.
He goes to death as bridegroom to the
bridal halls. He bids me follow in His
steps. The Spirit bids the bride to
come. How can I go and see Him die,
and then be left alone? He told me
that the earth should quake, the sun
should hide his face, the dead in ghost-
ly shapes arise. Such darkness has no
gloom for me. But when He dies in-
deed, how can I live? How can I bear

GETHSEMANL 277

the loneliness when I shall kneel be-
neath the body of my sacred dead, when
Calvary's shades shall hide the light of
earth and heaven ? How can I bear this
parting from my Love %

And yet I cannot choose but go. I
cannot leave Him while He lives, and if
I die with Him my grateful soul shall
bless the hour. It is not death I fear,
surely not a death with Him. I only
fear I cannot live until He dies. The
silver cord may break too soon. The
cloud may blind my eyes and paralyze
my sense. I may not see Him die. I
may not catch His parting glance. He
may' not bid farewell to me, or give me
once again the smile I love so well.
Yet must I go. My heart is weak. My
Kmbs are trembling with my grief. In-
deed, the waters touch my aching feet.
I need His staff and rod. While He
will bear the heavjr cross, He still can
carry me. Jesus, Master, Love, I come !

278 GETHSEMA1STI.

Lead Thou me on. Put out Thine hands
divine, and I am strong.

And I am travelling now the weary,
sorrowing road, the way that leads to
Calvary. So treading in my Bride-
groom's steps I journey on; falling, ris-
ing, fainting, weeping, I am moving on.
It is not I. The self I knew is gone.
I only know one life, and in that life
I see and hear and feel. The Spirit
moves my helpless hands and feet. The
Spirit guides my eyes. The Blessed Spi-
rit teaches me the riches of my Love,
unfolds the graces of my Master dear,
and shows to me the beauties of His
dying face, the depths of pity infinite
that draws me to His bleeding arms.
O mighty Spirit, eternal in Thy reign !
come help me in this path of pain.
Come touch my eyes that they may see.
Come touch my Kps that they may speak.

I saw my Jesus standing in the court.
The sad procession stays a moment there.

GETHSEMAJNTI. 279

Dread silence reigns where curse and jeer
were sounding on the air. They bring
the heavy cross — the sacred wood for
which He sighed, the blessed tree that
bears the fruit of life. Alas ! its awful
weight will crush His wasted frame. It
is His burden dear ; the sins of all the
world are resting there. With rudeness
vile, with cruel haste, they lay it on His
shoulders gashed and bleeding from
the scourge. He staggers helplessly ;
He trembles fearfully. He can hardly
bear the weight. His blessed face turns
icy pale. He gasps for breath. He nearly
falls. He almost bends unto the ground.
The edges sharp are opening wide the
seams upon His back. He lifts His
weary hands. With loving smile He
holds the crushing burden as He tries
to walk. The blood is flowing down. It
runs upon His arms and hands ; it falls
upon the ground. He moves with pain.
At every step the weight seems kill-

280 GETHSEMANI.

ing Him. His face is like the face of
death.

0 my loving Lord beneath this bur-
den dire, how can I comfort Thee, how
share the heavy sorrows of Thy cross ?
I saw Him fainting, moving slowly on.
How can He walk to Calvary ? Snrely
He will die before the sacred hill be
reached. I followed in His steps. I
did not hear the rabble cry. The sol-
diers marched along with spears uplift-
ed and the sound of arms. I did not
hear their words. There was a silence
deep within my soul. I heard His
sighs, I saw Him bending 'neath the
awful load. His face was full of sweet-
ness as He looked to heaven or turned
to me. And oh ! the sadness of His
eyes divine was more than flesh could
bear. My heart was begging Him to
speak one wrord. I knew my sins were
bearing on His shoulders then. I knew
that I was crushing down my only Love,

GETHSEMANT. 281

that He was taking up my cross. My
lips were murmuring words of prayer,
as sadness unto death was filling all my
soul. 0 Master dear ! I see my sins
upon Thee now. The weight I could
not bear is laid on Thee. Oh ! canst
Thou love me still ? I have not only
wounded Thee, but here upon Thy bleed-
ing back I see the awful load of all my
crimes, of my untruth to Thee. Am I,
Thy bride, to grieve and hurt the Bride-
groom so? And did I call Thee Love,
and thus afflict Thee with my faithless,
wayward heart ? Alas ! I cannot bear to
see Thee tremble so beneath the weight
of my ingratitude ! Tell me, Master
dear, oh ! canst Thou love me still ?

He turned and looked on me a mo-
ment then. His precious face seemed
very near to mine. I felt the breath
which struggling came as He essayed
to speak. There was a look of love,
like that I saw in Pilate's hall when

282 GETHSEMANI.

sorrowing Peter came. I was so drawn
to touch Him then that I had given
worlds to kiss IJis wearied feet. I
know not if I knelt, for I was moving
slowly on with Him, almost as faint
as He, and straining all my senses to
the whisper of His voice.

" O my precious child ! dost Thou
ask Me if I love Thee now ? Is not
this the proof of love ? Dost thou not
know that I must bear thy cross, that
I must teach thee how to walk the
weary road, that I must lead the way
where spouses of My choice must fol-
low Me ? All My Loves are led to
Calvary. There, and only there, the
lights of earth grow dim ; there, and
only tli ere, I rule the chastened soul,
and make the bridal hour the hour of
sacrifice. Thy sins have hurt Me where
My bursting heart is bleeding fast.
They open wide the seams of scourge
and thong. But I am God, and when

GETHSEMAJSTI. 283

the crushing load is breaking Me I
set thee free. I bear thy griefs, and
thou art Mine. Thus God alone can
tell the riches of forgiving love, or know
how dear becomes the sinner ransomed
by My blood, made pure by grace, and
nourished at My breast. Oh ! let thy
love renew its power to see the awful
cost of thine espousals to the King of
saints, the King that lays His heavenly
purple down, that tracks His steps in
blood beneath the cross, to celebrate
in death the nuptial rite, to bind the
soul forgiven to His everlasting arms,
to give the sweet embrace of love
divine. Faint not, my child. I suffer
awful pangs for thee ; I love thee for
the pain I bear. It is the sealing ^of the
eternal bond. Thou art born to Me in
agony. Thou comest from My open
side. Thou art the child of Calvary.
Press onward to thy home."
I cannot tell how near my Master

284 GETHSEMAISTI.

then became to me. His arms, which
bore the cross, seemed twining round
my breast. I thought I felt the beating
of His heart in union strange, to me
before unknown. I knew He loved me
then. In sorrow far too deep for
mortal tongue, my heart was glad with
joy that lifted me in ecstasy above
the scenes of time. I turned my tear-
ful eyes to heaven. I felt the angels
near. I tried to think of Father, Son,
and Spirit blest on their eternal seat
of light ; and clouds of golden hue
were passing like the vast procession
of the saints and massing round the
throne. I thought I saw my Master
there arrayed in glorious might. The
cross was there all glittering as the
sun at noon. The hands and feet were
wounded, too ; the breast was open-
ed wide. Where had I wandered,
then ? Surely this is not the weary
road. There is no Calvary's mountain

GETHSEMANI. 285

here. Was I pressing onward to my
home?

Was I selfish, then, to wander so ? I
had no choice. Some hand unseen
was guiding me, that I was not the
master of my will. I only thought of
Him. I never for an instant lost the
sight of Jesus bowed beneath the cross,
bending, fainting, weeping, struggling
on.

So suddenly an awful faintness seized
my heart. The light above was gone.
It was the height of noon, and yet
there came the dimness of the night.
The sharpness of a pain before un-
felt awoke me to my sight. My bless-
ed Lord had ceased to move. His
face had changed. His eyes are fixed.
His feet are paralyzed. His hands have
fallen from the cross. His head was
drooping on His breast. Oh ! He will
fall beneath that weight and die.
" Help, angels, help ! O Michael, mighty

286 GETHSEMANI.

prince ! come in thy strength. Come,
Gabriel, in thy gentle ministry. Come,
Raphael, healer of the weak. Come,
ye powers that rule the spheres ! The
Son of God will fall and dash His feet
against the stones. O my Mother !
art thou coming now ? My Master
told me thou wouldst come. He bade
me pray to thee and ask to put my
hands in thine. 0 glorious Queen !
where art thou now? My failing eyes
are seeking thee. Come to take thy
Child within thine arms ere He shall
die."

Alas ! it is too late. My Love has
fallen as if dead. Prostrate on the
ground He lies. The heavy cross is
crushing Him. He cannot move. I can
scarcely see Him breathe. Oh ! how stiff
and cold He lies ! His beauteous face
is whiter than the snow. His glassy
eyes are fixed. There is no motion ;
but the tears are slowly running down,

GETHSEMANI. 287

and drops of blood are trickling from
the thorns which pierce His head anew.
uO my Jesus ! let me come and touch
Thee now with all the tenderness of
love. Thou art not dead, I know, for
here are not the skulls, and this is not
the hill of sacrifice. Our parting has
not come. Thou hast fainted with the
grievous load, but Thou wilt rise again.
Let me help Thee, Master dear. I am
so faint myself that I can hardly breathe,
yet I could give the little strength I
have to Thee."

I never prayed as I prayed then. I
had no life but prayer, yet had I poor-
ly counted all the cost. When I was
pressing on, and holding out my hands
that I might only touch the wearied
feet, as there so cold they lay upon
the ground, my tottering limbs refused
my will, and I fell prostrate by my
Master's side. At last, I said, the
hour has come. This is my death, and

288 GETHSEMA.NI.

all is over now. There is no Calvary
for me. I have no strength. Alas !
tiow weak I am ! Oh I must all my
hopes be buried here ? There is no
cross upon my shoulders now, and yet
I faint and die !

How long endured my seeming death
I do not know. From faintness to un-
consciousness I struggled on, and when
my senses woke my ears were startled
by the sounds I heard in Pilate's court.
There were curses loud. There were
blows. They were beating as before my
precious Love. They were bidding Him
to rise with oaths profane. Where
was I, then ? I thought the trial scene
was passed. I thought the soldiers led
Him down the hill. I surely saw the
cross upon His bleeding shoulders as
He fell.

Awake, my soul ! awake to see and
hear. Bid every sense arouse. The
Mother of the King is coming now in

GETHSEMAKI. 289

all lier grace to aid your feebleness.
The Queen of Sorrows rules on Calvary.
You could not move without her help.
No soul can watch upon the mountain
drear, unless she hide him in her man-
tle pure, and hold his hands amid the
phantoms of the grave where Jesus
lies.

There came a gentle ray upon my
utter darkness then, and my uncon-
sciousness was passing like the sha-
dows at the dawn. There came a peace
within my soul, and scales were falling
from my eyes. I knew the source of
all this blessed light. I saw the beau-
teous form of her I love with all my
heart for Jesus' sake. She is my Mo-
ther dear. I owe my life to her. She
did put her hand upon my darkened
eyes, did win me by her gentleness, did
lead me to her Child, and teach me
how to love my God. O Mother of my
soul ! thou art coming now in this my

290 GETHSEMANI.

dire distress. I will take thee to my
prostrate Lord. See, here He lies as
faint and weak as death, and yet I
know He is not dead. Oh ! come, my
Mother, with thy angels bright. Bring
Gabriel ever at thy side. We will
draw near my dying Love, and if thy
precious hands shall touch Him He
will rise. The priceless days of Beth-
lehem and Nazareth come back to
Him beneath His cross. Thy loving
arms shall once again assuage His tears
and fold Him to thy breast. I ran
with eager haste, with all the confi-
dence of Mary's child. But oh! how
changed that dear and gentle face !
She came upon the scene with all the
grandeur of a queen. The Magdalen
was weeping at her side, and John was
guiding her with loving words. I could
not hear his voice. He trembled as he
tried to hold her up, while his pure
eyes were fall of tears. The Virgin

GETHSEMAIVTI. 291

stood as if the clouds were rolling
'neath her feet, as if she stood on space,
with air of majesty to reign. She mov-
ed with fixed and eager gaze. In every
line and feature sorrow spoke, the sor-
row which is unto death. The glowing
beauty of the skies was covered with a
pall. The eyes that seemed like mir-
rors of the heavenly light were red
with tears, and opened wide as if to
see some horrid, crushing sight. Her
hands so white and fair were folded on
her breast, as if to hold the heart that
ached and struggled with her grief.
Oh ! cried I in utter woe, what can I
do ? How can I bear the crucifixion of
my Lord, and of His Mother too ?
Then, ever gentle as the heart from
which she draws her grace, she looked
at me and motioned me to come. She
seemed to say: "My chosen child, the
lover of my Jesus dear, come here to
me. I see the ring upon thy hand. I

292 GETHSEMAISTI.

see the marks upon thy brow. Art
thou the spouse of iny Beloved, who
here has called thee to the nuptial rite ?
Dost thou love Him with all thy soul 1
Is He in truth thy Bridegroom pure ?
Then come and take my hand. My
Son has told me of thy name. He
bade me lead thee here where flesh
must fail. . Thou must weep with me.
I am a victim at this altar, too, but I
will hold thee up within the awful
night. And thou shalt keep with me
the vigil drear, the fearful watch on
Calvary. Come near me, child. I love
thee with a mother's tenderness. Thy
griefs are mine, and we are one, for Je-
sus is our all. But oh 1 the sword is
piercing now my very soul. Pray, pray
with all your strength, and leave me
not a moment here. Together wre shall
go this road of sorrows that shall break
the heart of God and mine. When my
hand grows cold, then hold it fast.

GETHSEMA1NT. 293

When I tremble fearfully, as if to die,
then be thou brave and show thy love.
See here, my Jesus calls ! He rises
from the ground, so pale, so weak. He
looks at me through tears with love I
know full well. It is my God whom I
adore. It is my Child, my very flesh
and blood. I must go to Him ; come
thou with me."

I turned to follow her, and then in-
deed my constancy was tried. My Mas-
ter, risen from His swoon beneath the
cross, was seeking her with eyes that
spoke a tenderness no mortal tongue
can tell. I never saw Him look as then.
His face was paler than the dead. His
hands so weak were feeling for the
cross. It seemed as if His feet were
swollen and His limbs were paralyzed.
He staggered as He stood, and as the
bleeding shoulders bent to take again
the cruel load. The blood was trick-
ling down His arms and hands, and

294 GETHSEMAEX

running from the thorny crown. The
royal brow was marked with many
wounds. The hair was clotted with the
mire and blood , while spittle still defil-
ed the beauty of His face. Then as
one dead, and yet the Prince of life, He
stood, as if He held the angel back un-
til His hour should come.

The piteous look He gave was more
than I could bear. I hid mine eyes be-
neath the mantle of my Queen, and sob-
bed with her. Her precious hand grew
cold indeed. I held it fast, but mine
was like the ice, and yet I clasped with
all my strength the fingers dear that so
entwined themselves in mine. She trem-
bled like the flowers that break before
the storm and scatter to the winds of
heaven. Convulsions like the agonies of
death were shaking every limb, while
sighs were coming from her panting
breast, and tears ■ were flowing like the
rain. Surely, Mother dear, I cried.

GETHSEMANI. 295

your hour has come. You cannot live
to see this sight. Where, then, shall
hide your helpless child? O blessed
Queen ! I cannot let thee die. We
must wait until He dies. He cannot go
alone to Calvary. You must lead me
there, and teach me how to kneel be-
neath the cross.

She sprang from me as if for life.
Oh ! let me go, she cried. This is my
place. Oh ! let me touch my Son once
more. I must soothe His pain with
my caress. My hands shall ease the an-
guish He endures, and gently touch the
gaping wounds of scourge and thorn
and cross. My kiss shall wipe the
tears away, and I will take the spittle
and the mire. It will give Him
strength to feel the pressure of my
lips. He is my own, my babe of Beth-
lehem. This flowing blood is mine.
These eyes are mine. These swollen
lips are mine. I am a mother now, and

296 GETHSEMANI.

I will go to Him. No spear nor sword
shall keep me from my Child. I care
not for the curse or oath. I care not
for their cruel violence to me. My mo-
ther's heart is bleeding now. There is
no creature love like mine.

My dearest Mother ran from me, but
all in vain. I saw my Jesus lift His
tearful face, and all the love of heaven
was beaming in His swollen eyes. This
is the glance which makes the bliss of
saints. It spoke to her who knew its
meaning well ; and she, who treasured
every change upon the face divine, saw
how the heart of God was hers by ties
before unknown. And this was more
than all the kisses of His mouth. It
told of deeper love than all the child-
hood's happy hours. Though held by
rude and ruffian hands, yet was she
nearer to her Child than when He nes-
tled in her fond embrace.

Oh! how I loved my Master then, as

GETHSEMAISTI. 297

thus I saw His heart revealed and saw-
in that exchange of tenderness the Mo-
ther and the Son.

She feasted on that glance. She read
its lesson well, and then, with hands
outstretched, she sprang to hold Him
to her breast. Her lips were moving
to the words, "My Son, my God, Thy
loving Mother comes." And then I
saw the soldiers turn their spears and
push her back. I saw the crowd rush
in with rudeness coarse. She seemed
in agony that robs the sense of life.
She neither heard nor saw. I know not
if she felt. For like a corpse she fell
upon the ground, while there the furi-
ous rabble closed around, and with an
oath they forced my Jesus on.

They beat Him with their whips as
then He struggled to obey. He saw
His Mother fall, and bent beneath the
cross as if some awful pang was pierc-
ing Him anew. I never saw Him look

298 - GETHSEMAKI.

so sad, not even in the garden's shade
when, holding with His hands His heart,
He wept like one bereft of all. He
looked upon the fallen form of her He
held so dear, and turned His face away,
while sobs seemed stifling Him and
tears were flowing like the rain. For
once He lifted up His eyes to heaven ;
then, looking forward to the hill of Cal-
vary, He staggered on.

I knelt beside my blessed Mother's
side, and wept and prayed. Oh ! how
beautiful she seemed in her sad death.
I kissed her cold and helpless hands.
I called her by her dearest name. I
begged the spirits of the light to come.
I asked for Raphael's healing power.
I prayed that Gabriel's soothing hands
might touch her prostrate form ; for
well I knew that she must rise, that
she must stand on Golgotha and there
teach me to watch, and there receive
the dying glances of her Child.

GETHSEMANI. 299

The crowd passed on and we were
left alone. Some gentle air of paradise
like life divine seemed coming then. I
felt the presence of the angels there,
and bowed my head in praise. She
moved at last. The sighs came pour-
ing from her breast. She loosed her
hands from mine and laid them on her
heart. She moved her lips in prayer.
I heard her ask for strength. "O
Jesus dear, my Child! Thy Mother's
heart is pierced indeed. Many are the
shadows I have seen ; Thy chalice drear
has been my portion, too, but now the
end is near. The cross shall hold us
both. Thy weary way is mine. Thy
nails shall pierce my hands and feet.
The spear that touches Thee shall find
its home within my breast. I tell it
not to angels drooping at my side. The
Cherubim can wonder at my woe, but
Thou alone, my God, canst read my
agony. For far above all finite powers

300 GETHSEMANI.

my grief is hidden in the love I have
for Thee, the love the seraph's bright
intelligence may praise, the love which
no created intellect may know. O
Jesus mine ! as we were ever one, so
now the deeper bond shall bind ns fast
for all eternity. The cross shall be our
tie, the wounds within Thy precious
hands and feet and opened breast, the
seals of union strange, before impossi-
ble. The drops of blood that fall upon
Thy Mother now shall lift her up be-
yond the sea of glass. I answer to
Thy grace, my Child. I am coming
now ! I will not fall again. The spear
already in my heart shall there abide.
Forgive my tears, forget my sighs.
The sorrowing Mother comes to take
her place. She will be with Thee unto
the last. Her truth shall be Thy rest
when all things fail. The incense of
her heart shall rise to Thee when
angels' harps are mute. Her love shall

GETHSEMAKI. 301

linger on Thy passing breath and speed
Thy spirit to its home above. Her
hands shall yet embrace her Child in
death, and leave Him in the silent
tomb. O Love divine ! assist me now ;
the Queen of Martyrs comes."

So when my precious Mother spoke
these words there came a calm upon
her agonizing face. She raised her
head, while light unearthly shone upon
her features pale. Her eyes, so like
her Child's, were looking straight to
heaven, as if this earth with all its
scenes had passed away. She rose, but
not alone. I knew the angels of her
train were at her side. In worship
high, in reverential fear, I bowed and
blessed the spirits of the heavenly court
who came at her command. "O Mary,
Mother blest ! the seraphs come to greet
thee in fhy passion's hour. Their arms
shall hold thee up ; their wings of light
sustain the Mother of their God. Yet

302 GETHSEMAJSTL

canst thou look on me again so feebly
kneeling here, thou Queen of all the
hosts above ? While I am here, so little
and so low, the angels move obedient
to thy will. Oh! may I touch thy
hand again and tell thee of my love i
And will the glorious Queen of Heaven
now guide my steps, and lead me on,
and teach me how to keep my vigil
drear among the skulls, in nature's dire
eclipse, beneath the cross?"

I turned my trembling face. The
Virgin stood as on a cloud which
angels held beneath her feet. She look-
ed at me and smiled through tears. It
seemed as if my Jesus smiled, so close-
ly did her face resemble His. All His
beauty, all His gentleness, and all His
grace were in that smile. She gave her
precious hand to me. She clasped my
hand in hers. "My child," she said,
"how little you can know the heart of
your Beloved in all its wealth of ten-

GETHSEMANI. 803

derness ! You cannot even know liow
dear to me are souls espoused by Him,
or liow the torrent of His love overflows
witliin my breast. I cherish, you be-
cause you are His spouse, because you
wear His nature too. Your features,
too, redeemed and washed in blood, are
like to His. The seraph's nature He
did not espouse. Below the ranks of
spirits blest He stooped to be my Son,
to die and live for you. I see His
marks upon your brow. I see in you
my own, my Jesus as He lives in you.
Come, then, with me. My broken heart
shall be your guide. The Victim of the
cross is moving on, and Calvary's hill
is frowning at us there. The hour of
crucifixion comes. The knell of death
is sounding in my ears."

And then the cloud that seemed to
rest beneath her feet moved slowly
down the steep descent. I held her
trembling hand and hid myself within

304 GETHSEMANI.

lier mantle's folds. The blessed John
was walking at her side as if with
painful steps, and Magdalen transfixed
with fear, as if the fountains of her
blood were frozen in her breast. Then,
when we reached the foot of the
descent and saw the path that climbs
to Calvary, the mob had stopped its
speed. The soldiers seemed alarmed.
Their spears were held at rest. And
they were calling loud with oaths for
help. My precious Love had fallen
once again beneath the cross. I could
not see His form nor face. I did not
dare to look at Mary then, she trembled
so. I pressed her icy hand and tried
to speak in signs my truest sympatic
My own poor heart had broken long-
ago, but what was grief like mine to
hers? I tried to part the Mother's
mantle folds, that I might see. Oh !
will my Blessed One arise again ? If
He hath fainted now, how can the

GETIISEMAJNTI. 305

height of Golgotha be reached ? The
shadow of the awful hill is here. This
cannot be His dying bed!

And then I prayed for grace. My
Mother's life seemed passing into mine.
Her all-availing lips were moving with
my words. The crowd was pressing up
the hill. The spears were mounting the
ascent. And there before me stood an-
other with my Master's cross. He was
wrestling with the heavy load, and,
though the blood was rushing to his face,
his features seemed suffused with joy.
How strange it was to see that cross upon
another laid, that blessed wood already
moistened with the saving blood ! O
happy lot to bear the burden for my
Love, to stand an instant in His place !
And I was weak enough to wish that I
had been this chosen soul, that I had
been so blest to soothe my Master's
weary way, and feel upon my shoul-
ders, too, a portion of His cross. It was

306 GETHSEMANI.

my foolish love that counted not the
cost, nor knew how little is my strength
to suffer or to die.

And now before me stands the hill
of Calvary. The soldiers lead the way.
The happy Simon struggles with his
load. His strength is failing as he
mounts the steep ascent, and yet the
burden grows more dear at every step.
My Blessed Master walks with pain,
as if His limbs were dislocated by the
fall. I tried in vain to see His face.
His head was bowed upon His breast.
His breathing came with sighs. The
road, was rough, the stones were sharp.
His feet were bare and bleeding, as if
bruised with many wounds. His hands
were bound. We passed the gate of
judgment then. The soldiers' spears
were forcing back the crowd. Beyond
the line of staves and swords I saw a
little company of friends. The matrons
of Judea and maidens fair had come

GETHSEMAISTI. 307

to weep with plaintive tears. They
saw the hands in fetters vile that
blessed their homes, that healed their
sick. The face that smiled upon their
sorrowing hearts was pale with agon*
izing pain. The thorny crown had
pierced the bone, and blood with water
ran from every point, while tears were
coursing down, and mire and spittle
filled the swollen mouth. He turned
His head. His lips were trembling so
that He could hardly speak. They
moved convulsively in prayer. I
thought I heard Him call His Mother's
name in faintest tones. He surely
tried to see her face. I thought He
asked that she might touch Him then,
that her dear hands might rest upon
His aching brow or wipe away the
clotted blood, the spittle and the mire.
The hour of death was near. Might
not the Mother once again prepare her
Child for sleep % Before the nails were

308 GETHSEMANT.

driven, before the awful wounds wTere
made, might not her touch compose
the limbs and features of her only Son %
Oh ! how she trembled then ! Her hand
was colder than the grave. I did not
dare to look upon her tearful face. I
know not how she quickened then her
faltering steps, as we rushed on unmind-
ful of the angry crowd, unmindful of
the oaths that gave response to every
sigh or tear. So we had nearly reached
the summit of the mount where skulls
were strewn around, where bones in
nauseous decay polluted all the air.
It seemed the opening of a charnel-
house with all the sickening odor of
corrupting flesh. This was the dying
bed of Mary's Child, the Word of God!
The Blessed Mother seemed so faint
that even I was overwhelmed with fear
that she would die! She fell upon her
knees and lifted up her eyes to heaven.
It seemed the bonds of flesh were break-

GETHSEMANI. 309

iug then ; that she had knelt among
the skulls to yield her agonizing soul
to God. I never heard such sighs ; I
never saw such tears. " O Mother
dear ! " I cried, u oh ! leave me not ! The
love of innocence is here. The love of
penitence is at thy side. The end is
close at hand. I cannot here abide
without thy strength. I cannot see
Him die alone. Thou art kneeling now%
as pale as death. I would that I could
comfort thee in this thy martyrdom.
But I am very weak. I can only give
thee love, the heart that breaks with
thine. Oh ! let me help thee up and we
will see our Jesus yet ; and once again
thine eyes shall feast on His. Perhaps
the cruel mob will give thee place, will
grant a mother's right, and thou shalt
touch His hands and feet, and with thy
lips shalt kiss Him ere He dies. O
thou dearest, holiest of the race of man,
thou virgins' Queen, the Mistress of the

310 GETHSEMAISTI.

skies ! who can dispute tliy sway ? The
spears must fall at thy command, and
thou shalt rule on Golgotha. Oh ! let us
come ; I know the Master calls. I feel
the beating of His heart in thine. Cour-
age, Mother dear ! for we shall see Him
soon."

She looked at me with terror in her
face, and spoke with faint and trembling
words : ' ' You cannot see, my child.
Our Blessed Love has fallen once again,
and when I knelt he fell. Listen to the
whips wherewith they beat Him now.
Oh ! hear the curses that resound ! They
call Him fallen King. They bid Him
rise and wear His crown. And T must
kneel and pray. I cannot rise until
they lift Him up. See, here the holy
woman conies to me. She beareth here
the awful picture of my Child. The
Mother could not touch the sorrowing
face, but she receiveth now the offering
of His love. And He who is so dear to

GETHSEMAHI. 311

me ha tli sent by her this image of my
dying Son. Oh ! let as look upon that
face, so bruised and torn. See here
the gashes of the thorns, the marks of
clotted blood, the courses of the tears.
Behold the anguish of that brow, the
lacerated cheeks, the swollen mouth.

0 my Blessed Child ! I take Thy gift,
and I will teach Thy spouses dear to
keep the watches of their love, to dwell
with me upon the treasure of Thy
wounds. O precious face ! I know it
well ! 1 know its every line. Full well

1 read the features of my darling Son.
Oh ! who but God can see the pain, the
anguish written there? Come kneel
with me and here adore the precious
blood. Before this agonizing face let
innocence its incense bring, let sinners'
tears but freely flow. The beauty un-
created and the light of heaven are hid-
den here. The smile of pardon is the
pang of pain ; the gifts of grace are

312 GETHSEMANI.

bruises here. Oh ! let us read that face
a moment now before we kneel around
the cross, before we strain our fainting
eyes to catch its dying glance. I have
not here a mother's right. I cannot
touch my darling Child until He dies,
until they lay the cold and mangled
body in my arms, and Bethlehem's min-
istries return beneath the shadow of
the cross. Yet there I shall be once
myself again, shall take my Love unto
my breast, shall all the ghastly wounds
adore, shall kiss the dearest lips with
all the ardor of a mother's heart. And
even now I seem to feel that touch, and
even now before me lies the garden of
His grave. See here, my child, He rises
from His fall. The cross again is on
His shoulders laid. He mounts the
summit of the hill. The weary road is
ended now. Hear you not the fearful
sound that cometh from the caverns of
the deep? Feel you not the quaking

GETHSEMAKI. 313

of the earth as if with living horror
moved? And see you not the angry
clouds that are the curtains of the sky ?
See, nature mourns the dying of its
Prince. See the awful pall that covers
all created things.

"Oh! let us come. The hour is nigh.
Some power unseen is bearing me be-
yond my strength. I see no angels
here, and yet I feel their might. They
hold me up. They stretch their wings
beneath my feet. The wound within
my heart is open now and bleeding
fast. The Mother's blood is calling to
the Son's. Oh ! let us hasten for the
end. Faint not, my trembling child ;
these awful hours will try your faith
and love. Beneath my mantle hide ;
hold fast my hand and follow me."

I lifted up my eyes, so red with tears,
to see if I could catch my Mother's
glance as thus she bade me come.
The strangest beauty crowned her brow,

314 GKETHSEMANI.

and yet it was unlike the glory of the
past. It seemed the beauty of a soul
that sinks to death in majesty divine.
It was a dying face, and yet the image
of celestial life. My hand was cold as
hers, and as I clasped her fingers dear
I felt the earthly life was leaving me ;
and yet a newer, better vigor came
with every breath. I remember naught
but this, as together we came near the
summit of the hill, and found our way
among the stones and skulls of Gol-
gotha. I was lifting up my heart to
heaven. I was looking for my Love.
The precious name was on my lips. I
begged that I might see Him yet before
His death, to tell Him of my truth,
that I had kept my word, that I was
watching to the last. He seemed so
near me then, although I saw Him not.
O Mother dear ! I cried, how gladly
would I die, if I might hold thy pre-
cious hand ; if He, my All, might be so

GETHSEMA1STI. 315

near ! The sweetness of His heart is
killing me. I hear the voice that open-
eth heaven. He calleth me with tender-
est names. He saith to me: "My
sister and My love, My dove, My unde-
tiled, open all thine heart. My head is
full of dew, is aching for thy breast.
The drops of blood have crimsoned all
My hair. See how I lie upon the cross,
outstretched upon the ground. I bear
the blessed wood no more. The tree
of life, it beareth Me. My way of sor-
rows past, the altar takes the sacrifice.
Oh ! listen now. They bring Me vinegar
and gall. I see the nails ; with My
own will stretch out My hands and
place My feet. The Lamb of God is
ready now."

I turned to speak. " Dearest Mother
of my Lord, oh ! hast thou heard these
sweetest words ? He never spoke to me
like this before. He draws me so that
I can hardly live. Oh ! I must go and

316 GETHSEMATTI.

fall beside Him as He lies, and I must
tell Him of my love and kiss His feet
again. Oh ! who can hold me here '?
Oh ! who can tear me from His side ?
Oh ! let me go and die with Him. I
do not love thee less — indeed, I love
thee more ; but He is All to me."

"My child," I heard her say, "I
bless thee for thy heart, which here
awakes in life that cometh from the
cross. How gladly would I go and die
with Him, and lead thee to the altar
now ! The death within His bleeding
arms is paradise indeed. When He is
gone how shall the Mother live, and
what is earth to her who weeps a Child
divine ? And yet I have no will but
His. I take my chalice,, too. My heart
is pierced with His. My hands and
feet are nailed. I lie beside Him on the
cruel wood.

"See the ruffians crowd around. See
the bristling spears. The fearful work

GETHSEMANI. 317

is going on. No friend can pass. Oh !
listen to the awful sound. Above the
jeer, above the laugh, the hammers
strike upon my breast. My fainting
nerves are yielding to the spikes that
pierce them through. O Jesus mine 1
how can Thy Mother bear this pang ?
I hear Thy sighs ; I feel the tremor of
Thy frame. The faintness that oppress-
eth Thee is killing me. Oh ! let me
fall upon my face while Thou art lying
there. The Mother's sobs ascend with
Thine. The Mother's heart is crucified
at last."

Prostrate on the ground I saw my
glorious Queen. Her groans awoke me
from my foolish, selfish dream. " What
can I do for thee, my Mother dear ? I
did not mean to leave thee in thy woe.
I only asked that thou wouldst guide
me to my Jesus' feet." And then there
came a sickness at my heart, and I had
fallen too. Of all that passed the

318 GETHSEMAM.

memory is gone save only this. My
soul was filled with prayer that gather-
ed all my powers in one. I saw my
Master lying on His cross among the
skulls. I watched His bed of death. I
marked the wounds that held Him
fast. I saw the dislocated limbs, and
tried to fix upon my heart the features
of His precious face. I counted all the
thorns that pierced His brow, the
bruises on His cheeks. I treasured up
the tremors of His mouth, and even
looked within His blessed eyes. It was
my foolish prayer, and yet I thought
as He lay there, and tears were falling
fast, He looked at me and smiled. And
oh ! that smile will never fade from
memory's page. Shall I see it once
again? Jesus, Master of my soul, Be-
loved of my heart, oh ! shall I see it
when I die ?

When I came back to consciousness
the scene was changed. It was as dark

GETHSEMANI. 319

as night on Calvary. Around me
torches gleamed. The soldiers' spears
were standing full at rest. An awful
stillness reigned. The crowd had pass-
ed away. Our vigil had begun, and we
were watchers at our Jesus' feet. The
mournful Mother stood beneath the
cross as priestess at the sacrifice. One
hand she held upon her breaking heart ;
the other pointed to her Child. The
blessed John was weeping at her side,
and Magdalen had fallen prostrate on
the ground. The cross was trembling
with His dying pangs, and He was
lifted up on high and hanging by His
wounds.

And I was kneeling at my Mother's
side, and we were there alone. She
held my hand in hers ; she called me
child. I hid my grief within her man-
tle's folds, and heard her tearful, faint-
ing voice: "This is the end. Our
weary road leads here. All sorrows

320 GETHSEMANI.

drear find here their resting-place, and
every light that shines is guiding to
the Cross. For this the voice of Gabriel
speaks. For this the angels sang on
Bethlehem's heights. For this the three-
and-thirty years of blessed union with
the Word made flesh. For this the
joys of motherhood divine. For this
I laid Him on my heart and nursed
Him at my breast. For this were
every fond caress, and every kiss, and
every smile. This is the centre of the
earth redeemed. Behold Him lifted up.
See how He draweth all things to Him-
self. This is the heavenly Bride-
groom's throne. Here souls espoused
to Him come home, here celebrate
the nuptial rite. Within these shades
I reign. I rule where earth departs,
and in the midnight of the soul I
come as Queen. I lead thee to my
Child when thou hast learned to cru-
cify thyself with Him. His parting

GETHSEMANI. 321

breath shall bind thee to His side, and
thus on Calvary the bridal train shall
come. Oh ! see how dark it is. The
sun hath ceased to shine. The stars
are hidden in the blackened sky. The
earth is trembling in its fear, and Na-
ture sends from every side her fune-
ral song. The King, the eternal Son,
will meet the iron sceptre of the grave,
and He will die.

"Draw nearer to tho cross. I lead
you there. See how the blood is run-
ning down. See how each struggling
breath is pain. Look up with all your
love, with all your faith. Adore the
Bridegroom of your heart. Pay Him
your vows, and then the watches of
your vigil keep. The darkness shall
increase until the noon of an unearth-
ly night ; but wait in prayer, abide
with me, and you shall see the twi-
light of the dawn."

I lifted up my weary eyes. At first

322 GETHSEMA^I.

I could not see. There was an awful
silence in my soul. I heard the sobs
of Magdalen, the sighs of John, the
painful breathing of my precious
Queen, as there in all her deathlike
majesty' she stood. I heard the groans
that came so faintly from the trem-
bling cross. Oh 1 how my Love was
suffering then ! Oh ! that my eyes
might see Him once again, and say
farewell, when lips could form no
words, and every sense was dumb,
Jesus, Master mine, Thou heavenly
Spouse, oh! give me grace to see. I
care not for the clouds. The light of
day would mock my grief. But in this
night touch Thou my sight, and let
me look again upcn my only Love.
For here my Mother leads me with her
gentle hand, and here I plight to Thee
my everlasting truth.

I know not how His mercy heard
my prayer. The darkness deepened

GETHSEMAISTI. 323

until it seemed that light was dead;
and then upon the background of a
superhuman night I saw the royal cross,
the pale and agonizing form of my
Beloved. At first I saw the bleeding
feet. The cruel spike had pierced
them well. The awful wound was red
and swollen round the nail. Convul-
sions from the fearful pain were tearing
wide the ragged gash. I kissed them
with my heart. I could not touch
them with my mouth. The limbs were
thin and pale, and stained with blood,
and all the bones seemed dislocated, so
that every tremor was a pang. I saw
the precious hands that wiped away
my tears, the arms divine that often
held me in a fond embrace. Oh ! they
were strained and bleeding, too. The
hands were clasping fast the nails, and
they were white as death. The breast
where mercy finds its royal throne was
panting as if life would go. Now there

324 GETHSEMANI.

came a breath with anguish keen, and
then a moment all was still. The
sacred Heart was beating with the
speed of light, and then its awful
struggles ceased. There came a ghast-
ly paleness, as if death had come. The
dear, the precious face was peaceful
as the calm of God, and patience reign-
ed where pain had reached its height.
My Love was surely dying now. The
head is drooping down. The locks
are filled with dew and mire and blood.
The thorny crown has pierced the
brow. The mouth is open wide. The
lips are parched and blue. The bless-
ed eyes are sometimes closed, and
when the trembling eyelids part the
look is far away from earth. Sometimes
the lips are moving as to words, and
yet I hear no sound.

So as I looked it seemed to me that
I was growing nearer to my Lord. I
could not rest. I could not still my

GETHSEMAISTI. 325

prayer. " Jesus, Master, Love ! " I
cried, " accept my vows. This is the
bridal hour. Behold Thy spouse for
ever Thine and only Thine ! Oh ! let
the nuptial rite proceed."

I looked with all my love upon His
bruised and mangled face. I held my
hands upon my heart and wept. I
thought the precious eyes were opened
once. I thought they smiled. I saw
new tears run down. I thought He
bowed His head to me, and looked as
if He heard my vow and made me
there His own.

And then the awful cloud returned.
The blackness came again. So kneel-
ing at His feet I fell, and all my sight
was gone.

The shadows deepened on my heart
till sadness worse than death was quench-
ing all the springs of life. My foolish
love had hoped to see His dying face,
had even prayed to be with Him unto

326 GETHSEMANI.

the last. But now I cannot live ; I can-
not raise my head. I do not dare to
look again. How can I see the dearest
Master of my soul in such an awful
death ? I cannot go away ; and yet I
cannot bear the torture of this awful
scene. He is my Grod ! He is my All.
He is my only Love. How can I see
Him die?

Oh ! who will hold me up, that soul
and body do not part, that grief like
mine consume me not before His part-
ing breath % If I could live until He
dies, and then with Him depart from
earth, my only prayer would rise like
incense to the blood-stained feet. But
oh ! I know He is not dying now, and
yet my little strength is going fast ; my
breath is failing me ; my breaking heart
has ceased to beat. O Mother of my
Love ! come near. Oh ! let me touch
thee once again. If I may feel thy pre-
cious hand once more, my wasting life

GETHSEMANI. 327

may yet return, and I may yet with thee
this vigil keep. Oh ! help me, Mother
blest, and I will be thy child by ties of
blood. Together shall our hearts be
bleeding here ; together shall we watch
on Calvary.

I did not know how near to me my
glorious Queen was weeping then. I
felt the peace her gentle presence brings.
I felt the pressure of her loving hand.
My soul was calmed. My grief was more
intense, and yet I seemed to rest, while
peace, the peace of God, was reigning in
my pangs. My feverish pulses paused ;
the anxious panting of my breath had
ceased, and in its agony my heart was
lying still. And then I heard her voice
in tearful tones: " My child, the school
of love is here, the school that teacheth
to endure. The night is just begun.
Through awful shades, through sweat of
blood, through every pain that tries the
soul, that crushes nerve and flesh, our

328 GETHSEMANI.

heavenly Master leads. There is no pang
He beareth not, no grief He tasteth not.
He dieth as a king ; He dieth as a G-od.
The crown of thorns He weareth to the
end, and bows His royal head as Prince
of life and death.

" Deeper, darker will the shadows grow.
The midnight horror yet shall come. It
shall be colder than the grave, and every
light but His shall die. The child that
seeks to keep his vigils here mnst bid
farewell to all created things, must come
to lie beneath the funeral pall, must
come to seek a burial place among the
skulls. Only Jesus here, and Jesus on
His cross ! For I shall hide myself be-
hind the clouds, and in the unearthly
gloom shall only point to Him. Behold
my Child, thy Bridegroom and thy King !

"■I see how cold thou art. Thy hand
is trembling so that I can hardly hold it
still. This is indeed the place of death.
Here all of earth must die. Oh ! wrap

GETHSEMANT. 329

thyself within thy shroud and listen to
the marriage-bells. So faintly sounding
now, they tell thee of thy death in Him
thy Life. That death is pain. That
death is sweet. The icy grave is por-
tal to the palace of thy Spouse. The
wounded hands are waiting for thy last
caress. The mangled feet will lead thee
to thy home. The bruised and bleeding
face will smile when thou art dead to
all but Him. The precious lips are
yearning for thy loving kiss.

uO cruel death! thou reignest here.
O Life of God that in this desert drear,
amid the gloom where sun nor stars can
shine, shalt rise in worlds of bliss to
people heaven with virgin souls, with
spouses of the Lamb ! ' '

My dearest Mother ceased her blessed
message to my dying heart. I kissed
her hand with all the ardor of a new-
born life. Some mighty grace was mov-
ing in this deep of nightt I felt the

330 GETHSEMANI.

change that came so strangely then.
For surely it was like a death, and yet
it was a birth ! I did not know myself.
I only knew I held my Mother's hand
and passed away where, in a wrorld un-
known, I saw my Jesus Crucified, and
Him alone.

WORKS

BY

Et. Rev. Consignor Thomas S. Preston, Y.G., LL.D.

The Protestant Reformation, Angli-
canism, and Ritualism.

12mo, price $1.

Protestantism and the Bible.

12mo, price $1.

Protestantism and the Church.

12mo, price $1.

The Divine Paraclete.

A Short Series of Sermons upon the Person and Office of the
Holy Ghost. With Devotions and Prayers for the Confra-
ternity of the Servants of the Holy Ghost.

18mo, red edge, price $1.

God and Reason.

Second Edition. 12mo, price $1.
^r These books are all printed in the best manner on extra fine
paper, and beautifully bound.

The Watch on Calvary.

Meditations on the Seven Last Words of Our Holy Redeemer
18mo, red edges, price $1.

Lecture upon the Catholic View of the

Public School Question. 8vo.
The Church and the World.

An Address delivered before the Catholic Union in St.
Patrick's Cathedral. 8vo, price 20 cents.

Lecture — The Triumph of Faith. 8vo.
Lecture — The Life and Times of St.

Vincent de Paul. 8vo.
Lecture — Religion and Education.

8vo, price 20 cents.

Lecture — The Failure of Protestant-
ism as a System of Faith. 8vo.

ROBERT CODDINGTON, Publisher, 246 Fourth Avenue.

WORKS

BY

Rt. Rev. Monsignor Thomas S. Preston, V.6., LL.D.

The Vicar of Christ.

Lectures upon the Office and Prerogatives of our Holy Father
the Pope. This work has received the high approval of the
late Holy Father, Pius IX.

Second edition. Price $2.

Lectures upon the Devotion to the Most
Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ.

With appendix, containing the Pastoral Letter of His Emi-
nence the Cardinal and Bishops of the Province of New York
to the Clergy and Laity of their charge. Also, the Act of
Consecration to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. A Brief No vena
to the Sacred Heart, translated from the French of L. J.
Halley by Monsignor Preston.

Second edition. Price 75 cents.

Ark of the Covenant.

A series of Short Discourses upon the Joys, Sorrows, Glories,

and Virtues of the ever-blessed Mother of God.
Sixth edition. 18mo, price 60 cents.

Christ and the Church.

12mo, price $1 25.

Reason and Revelation.

12mo, price $1 25.

Christian Unity.

Third edition. 12mo, price $1.

The Sacred Tear.

Sermons for the Principal Sundays and Holydays, from the
Feast of St. Andrew to the nineteenth Sunday after Pente-
cost.

Third edition. 12mo, price $1 50.

The Divine Sanctuary.

A series of Meditations upon the Litany of the Most Sacred
Heart of Jesus. The Eight Rev. Author in his preface says :
';A better understanding of the different petitions of the
Litany will serve to kindle our affections while it illumines
our intellects with the truths of faith."

Second edition. 18mo, red edge, price $1.

ROBERT CODDINGTON, Publisher, 246 Fourth Avenue.

•'

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