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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
 
 IB 
 
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. 
 
 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 : 
 u O 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 aw r ay. 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: u O 
 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. 
 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. 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 : 
 u O 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. 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, 
 
 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 : 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, w T hile 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: u O 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 Father 5 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. 
 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. 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 ! 
 
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, 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 grief 5 
 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 know r n 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 w T ell 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 
 
 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, U I 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 w r as 
 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, 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. 
 
 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 w r ord. 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. 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. 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. 
 u O 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 w r e 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 w T ere 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 u O 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 w r orld un- 
 known, I saw my Jesus Crucified, and 
 Him alone. 
 
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