Jesus:
O Mother dear, didst thou but hear
My plaint of desolation,
Thy tender heart would burst apart
With grief of separation!

I am not stone, yet all alone
I hush My soul’s outcrying, —
Alone to tread the wine-press red,
To bear the pain of dying.

My lips are dumb, the night has come;
Ah! Solace I might borrow
Had I but thee to bide with Me
In this wild waste of sorrow.

Mary:
“Gentle moon and start of midnight,
Golden apples born of sunshine,
Precious pearls and jewels rare, —
All things glorious, all things shining,”
Thus the sorrowing Mother spake;
“E’en ye bright, transfigured faces,
Mourn with me for Jesus’ sake.

“Sparkle, gleam, and glow no longer:
Only moan and mourn for Him.
Shine not, shine not, weep forever,
Till your thousand eyes are dim;
For the mighty One has fallen,
And my Beautiful is slain;
In the dense wood pierced, my Shepherd, —
Weep ye, weep ye for my pain!
O most oppressed of all oppressed,
Heart of my heart, my all, my Son!
Grief’s keenest sword doth pierce my breast:
I die with Thee, my only one!
Alas! the pain is all too great,
Since, living, still I share Thy fate.

“Yes, mine Thou wert to bear and rear
Through life and light, and pain and loss;
And now, ten thousand times more dear,
I yield Thee to the cruel cross!”

-“Dialogue at the Cross,” Frederick Spee, S. J. (1591-1635)
translated from the German by Mary E. Mannix

Today’s Reflection

Today I stand at the foot of the Cross with Mary my mother. What pain, sorrow, suffering, trial, and contradiction do I yield to the “cruel cross”? How does Mary give me guidance in this surrender?

Holy Thursday

Prone in Gethsemene upon His face,
His eyelids closed, — lay Christ of all our world,
The winds with endless sorrows seemed enswirled;
A little fountain murmured of its pain
Reflecting the pale sickle of the moon;
Then was the hour when the Angel brought
From God’s high throne the Cup of bitter horn,
While on His hands tears trembling fell like rain.

Before the Christ a cross arose on high;
He saw His own young body hanging there
Mangled, distorted; knotted ropes half-tear
The sinews from their sockets; saw He nigh
The jagged nails’ hot rage, the direful Crown
Upon His head, and every dripping thorn
Red-laden, as in fury of its scorn
The thunder battered all kind voices down.
He heard the pattering drops, as from the cross
A piteous sobbing whispered and grew still.
Then Jesus sighed, and every pore did spill
A bloody sweat.

-From Gethsemene
by Annette Von Droste-Hulshoff (1797-1848)

Today’s Reflection

Take this poem into your prayer time meditation as you consider the great gift of our redemption. How is Jesus speaking to me in it?

April 7

“Who can measure the extent of My goodness? For you I descended from heaven to earth; for you I allowed Myself to be nailed to the Cross; for you I let My Sacred Heart be pierced with a lance, thus opening wide the source of mercy for you. Come, then, with trust to draw graces from this fountain.”

-Jesus to St. Faustina Kowalska

Today’s Reflection

What is Jesus saying directly to you through these words? What do you say back to Him? As we enter the season of Easter and Divine Mercy, trust that you will draw from the fountain of the Sacred Heart the very grace you most need.