How is my contrition to be complete when I so often offend and forget You? I am unworthy of Your love, I deserve to die in fear and shame. Oh my Jesus, my ugly and distorted soul is not even worthy to serve You in the smallest way. So often I have engaged in evil and betrayed and despised Your love. Oh my Jesus! I feel I must hide myself from Your Holy Presence. I am not strong enough to bear the love in Your gaze. You say "come" and I am afraid.
But I cannot remain apart from You, my Beloved. I am afraid in my sin, and yet I am drawn nearer to You. You are so torn and bloody from the evils of sin... Your hands bear the wound of my limitless fault... and I cannot bear the gaze so consumed with love for such a sinful little worm as myself. I fall to the ground in my pain and in my tears and I hide my face. "Come, my daughter, my beautiful one..." Dear Jesus, You call to me and raise me from the dark destitution of my sins. In Your Passion You give me Your mercy to drink. I follow You, my Beloved, for I cannot resist the love and goodness of the Spirit of God. You are love, truth, life... I love You, and will follow You even to death. My Lord, if I should pour out my heart for You, I still shall not repay the mercy You have shown me in taking me to Your bosom and allowing me to serve and console You. Never will I betray this trust again, and always will I follow You in a love greater than any known... A love which finds its strength in Your Passion.
Oh My Jesus,
Did I say "Crucify Him" with the crowd? Forgive me, Jesus, in Your compassion have pity on my broken love! What can I do? Would they crucify my Lord, my Love? Would they spill Your precious Blood? Wickedly they beat and torment You... they tear the skin from Your precious back, they sting You with whips, oh how could they do such harm to You my Lord! You are strong, and only a low groan escapes Your lips as the whip thrusts fall... could they cause You such pain? Could they torture You, the Son of God, with unbearable and ugly pain? They scourge You, and they do not stop. The thrusts of their whips fall again and again, and they do not stop. With evil points and deadly nails they destroy Your flesh... You cry out in such pain, and yet You do not stop them in their horrible task. My precious Jesus, what love is this? My agony of soul finds no rest as the eye of my mind gazes unceasingly on Your suffering. Your blood flows, a stream of life coming forth from Your gentle and healing person. They beat the blood out of You, my love, and You let them do it because You love. There is no hate in Your heart, You are blameless as You undergo the foulest torments. It seems never to end as Your innocent body continues to be scarred and torn... There is no face more precious to me than Yours, no body more beautiful than this body which astounds men with its ugliness, as You whisper Your love. You cry in Your pain, and I want to hold You to my heart and console You. What love is this, my Lord? By Your precious Blood, You have redeemed the world.