O most tender Mother, it was I that covered thy divine Son with wounds, and put Him to death! It was I that pierced thy heart with the most bitter sword of grief! Oh, by those wounds and by that blood, by thy sorrows and by thy tears, I conjure thee, O Mary, to be my protectress and [pg 205] my advocate. Pray for me, and for all sinners like me, that so many precious sufferings may not become useless to us. Amen.
Thirteenth Day. The Taking Down from the Cross.
The sorrowful day is over. All have gradually dispersed, and now only Mary and the other holy women, with the disciples, remain at the cross. The bruised and mangled body is lifted down, and laid on the Mother's knee. When Our Lord dies we are tempted to think that Our Lady's dolors ought to have ended there; but no, there is still more to be endured. Mary embraces the lifeless body, washes the gaping wounds, smoothes the tangled hair, and bathes away the clotted blood that dims its glory. She wraps Him tenderly in a white linen cloth, and gives Him into the reverential arms of Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. Both of these were disciples of our blessed Lord. Joseph was a good and just man, and Nicodemus was a man learned in the Scriptures, who had come to Jesus by night, for fear of the Jews, and had learned the doctrine of regeneration. Joseph had gone to Pilate and had begged the body of Jesus, which had been granted to him. Now he takes Him in his arms, and with the help of Nicodemus places Him in his own tomb. Well has our blessed Lord said, “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air nests: but the Son of Man hath not where to lay His head.” Mary found nothing strange even in the tremendous sorrows that almost crushed the life out of her. She looks only to God's will. No matter how uncommon, how exacting, or how apparently unreasonable, she [pg 206] was always found prepared, always found with these words on her lips, “O God, Thy will be done.” Let us look at our lives, and see if we, like Mary, are ever ready to do God's will; ever looking at Our Lord crucified, and willing to bear all the disappointments, trials, and sorrows that He may send us. Let us look at our immaculate Mother, standing patient and resigned at the foot of the cross, looking on the sufferings of her dearly beloved Son, and we will never murmur—no matter how heavy the cross which our good God in His divine providence may place upon our shoulders.
Prayer.
O Mary most sorrowful! words fail to express the gratitude we owe thee, for the readiness wherewith thou didst consent to come to the rescue of our lost world. But do thou deign to receive our thanks, faint and inadequate though they may be. May the enjoyment of thy present bliss move thee to intercede with God in behalf of us, thy weeping, weary children. Be propitious to those who flee to thee for aid, and do thou ever intercede for those whom thy divine Son redeemed. Amen.
Fourteenth Day. The Burial of Jesus.
It is now the evening of Good Friday, and Mary is sitting at the foot of the cross with her dead Son upon her lap. It is here that mourners for future generations will come to find rest and peace. Here the widow, the orphan, and the lonely will find how good a thing it is to have their hearts crushed with sorrow, because here they will find the [pg 207] loving arms of their new Mother Mary around them, and through their grief they will see God. But now the time has come when Mary must give up her treasure. So giving the signal to Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, they lift the body of the dead Creator and move towards the garden tomb. Mary arranges everything; she adjusts the winding-sheet, and then takes her last look on the lifeless body of Jesus. “Oh, look and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow!” Then her adopted son, John, comes to her, drawing her away, for she is half-dead with the grief and anguish of the past night and day. Through the same gate by which she had left the city of Jerusalem in the morning, she re-entered it that night. Poor Jerusalem, that city of God, how often had Our Lord yearned and wept over it, longing to gather those chosen ones to Himself! But no, they had rejected Him, and now their cup of iniquity is filled. They have crucified their King; their pavements are stained with His blood. Mary knows all this, still there is no room in her heart for bitterness. Oh, what a contrast to our spirit of revenge, sometimes for even a fancied wrong. We learn from this dolor of Mary that there is no darkness like the darkness of a world without Jesus, and if His absence is caused by our own fault, our own sin, then it is the greatest of sorrows. O Mary, my Mother, keep us ever by thy side at the foot of the cross! so that remembering all that thou hast suffered, we will gladly accept all the sorrows that may come. Amen.
Prayer.