Lastly, going to the place where, according to tradition, Jesus appeared to his holy mother (this station being in the chapel of the Latins, in front of the altar of the blessed sacrament), the procession returns to the spot whence it started, singing the hymn,
"Jesum Christum crucifixum
Ob peccatorum crimina,
Hunc vidisti et flevisti,
O gloriosa Domina," etc.
The above is an outline of the procession which is made every day in the church of the Holy Sepulchre. But to have a full understanding of its impressiveness, one must be in Jerusalem, and take part in it. In other countries, when reading of the passion and death of our Lord, we are left to imagine the appearance of places which are thousands of miles away; and this consciousness of distance will ever hinder that vivid realization of the incidents which may be had on the spot where they occurred. When the word HIC (here) is said by the officiating priest, all bow down and kiss the floor; and it is enough to melt a heart of stone to be so close to these most sacred spots when the mention of what our Lord has here done and suffered for our sins is made. There is no attempt to work upon the imagination or excite the feelings. The singing and praying are in a natural but reverent tone. It is felt that the devout Christian needs only to be here when the prayers are said, to have his heart subdued and filled with penitence and adoring gratitude and love.
Original.
At Threescore.
There was but one in all the world,
Fond heart,
To whom thou gayest all, nor kept
A part;
And that was John.
None e'er so gentle, nor so brave as he,
None other's arm so strong or sweet to me
To lean upon.
'Twas down upon the ocean shore
One day,
The heart I once had some one took
Away;
And that was John.
Strange moment! for it seemèd then to me
As if the rocks and sands and clouds and sea
And all were gone.
You understand, I do not mean
Quite all:
Some one was there, so handsome, straight,
And tall;
And that was John:
But he was all to me, and nothing there
Nor aught in this wide world with him could bear
Comparison.
Long years have passed, and now my step
Is slow.
Though weak his arm, yet strong his heart,
I know,
To lean upon.
Beside me seated in his high-backed chair,
I see a tall old man with silvered hair;
And that is John.
My day of life has always been
Most bright,
But now the shadows longer grow,
And night
Is coming on.
I fear it not, for when my course is run,
I look beyond the grave to meet with One
More dear than John.