Poem on the Passion of the Lord

Whoever you are who draw near and cross the threshold of this temple,

Pause a moment, and look upon me, who suffered guiltless for your crime;

Hold me in your mind, keep me within your breast.

I am he who, pitying the bitter misfortunes of mankind,

Came hither as the messenger of promised peace, and as the ample

Pardon of our common guilt: here is the most brilliant light restored

From on high to the earth, here the gracious image of salvation;

Here I am your rest, the straight path, the true redemption,

The banner of God, and the memorable sign of fate.

For your sake and for your life I entered the womb of a Virgin,

Was made man, and endured a dreadful death;

Nor did I find rest anywhere within the bounds of the earth,

But everywhere threats, everywhere toils.

The first lodging given me on earth was the rough stable of Judaea,

A shelter at my birth, shared with my mother.

Here, amid dull and sluggish beasts, dry grass in a narrow manger

First gave me a bed.

I lived my earliest years in the regions of Egypt,

A fugitive from the reign of Herod; and returning,

I spent the rest in Judaea, ever following fasting, ever

Extreme poverty itself, and the lowest of conditions,

Ever drawing human minds by wholesome counsel toward

The pursuit of goodness, and joining to my saving teaching

Many open miracles; wherefore

Impious Jerusalem, driven by the raging anxieties

Of envy, and by fierce hatreds and fury blind,

Dared to seek for me, though guiltless, a bloody death

On the terrible cross with mortal torments. If I

Should wish to set these things forth more fully, and if it

Should please you to go through every groan, and to feel my sorrows with me;

Gather up the plots and treacheries and the unspeakable price

Of my innocent blood, and the feigned kisses of a follower,

And the insults, and the revilings of the savage crowd.

Moreover fix in your mind the scourgings, and the tongues

Ready for accusation, and the witnesses, and the unspeakable judgments

Of blind Pilate, and the great cross pressing upon my shoulders

And my weary back, and my heavy steps toward the dreadful death.

Now look upon me, truly forsaken, having undergone the final

Punishments, and lifted far from my sweet mother,

Survey me from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet: behold, look upon my hair

Matted with blood, and my neck bloodied beneath

My very locks, and my head pierced by cruel thorns,

Raining living blood from every side over my divine face.

Gaze upon my closed eyes, bereft of light,

And my afflicted cheeks; look up at my parched tongue

Poisoned with gall, and my face pale with death.

Behold my hands fixed with nails, and my arms stretched out,

And the great wound in my side: behold then the flow

Of blood, and my pierced feet, and my blood-stained limbs.

Bend your knee, and in tears adore the venerable wood of the cross;

Seeking with humble lips the earth wet with innocent blood,

Bathe it with tears that well up,

And bear me sometimes in your devoted heart, and my

Counsels. Follow the footsteps of my life;

And gazing upon the very sufferings and the stern death

Of the body, calling to mind the countless sorrows of soul and body,

Learn to endure adversity and to watch over your own salvation.

These memorials, if ever it shall please you to turn them

Over in your mind, if any faith to bear my words

Dwells in your soul, if due piety and worthy gratitude for my labors

Shall arise, will be spurs to true virtue, and will be

Shields against the snares of the enemy, armed with which in every

Contest you shall be safe, and as victor shall bear the palm.

These memorials, if they turn your affections away

From the unstable world's companions and from the passing shadow

Of worldly beauty, will bring it about that, not captivated by empty hope,

You shall dare neither to trust in the shifting things of fortune

Nor to hope in the fleeting years of life.

But as you behold these passing things

Securely, and are stripped of love for them by love of a better homeland,

The riches of the world, the use of possessions, and the vows of the devout

Will lift you up in holy conduct, and with the hope

Of a blessed life, amid harsh sufferings, will cherish you with heavenly

Dew, and feed you with the sweetness of the good awaited.

Until at last, after your final end, when the body is left behind,

Great grace shall call your soul back to the lofty purple air.

Then, freed from all toil,

Then, joyfully beholding the angelic choirs and the blessed ranks

Of the saints, it shall reign forever happy with me

In the pleasant hall of eternal peace.