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HYMN REFLECTION ON THE AGONY IN THE GARDEN
Sorrow afflicts me, my heart bleeds with pain. As in the Garden, my Jesus prays in pain. Drenched
in bloody sweat, The cup He now accepts, On death he reflects.
Soldiers approach Him while Judas draws near.
To kiss his Master, without shame without fear.
Like hungry,
wild wolves, they betray our Lord,
Betray our Savior.
The crowd became loud, with fury and with hate, Strike blows,
Push, kick Him; lead Him through the
city gate.
They spit in His face and they pulled on His hair,
The King meek and fair.
One soldier in arms raises his iron fists,
At the Face of Christ, blood purple fills Christ's lips.
Tenderly His eyes look up to glance with tears,
The Beloved Heart looks at the crowd who jeers.
Let my heart of stone, smitten with so much grief,
O my sweet Jesus, help cure my unbelief.
I'm sorry,
Jesus, for offending You.
My God I love you.
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THE SOULS LAMENT
Jesus, sought by the maddened loud crowd,
like meekest of lambs driven to Your slaughter,
Jesus, how I love
you!
Jesus, for thirty silver pieces
sold ungratefully by Judas the traitor.
Jesus, how I love you!
Jesus, downcast with sorrow and pain,
longing anxiously, death for man's salvation.
Jesus, how I love you!
Jesus, in the dark Olive Garden
shedding bloody sweat, accepting the Chalice.
Jesus, how I love you!
Jesus, snared slyly into cruel hands
by Judas traitor, ungrateful disciple.
Jesus, how I love you!
Jesus, roughly bound by drugged hirelings;
the rope, coarse and strong tearing your flesh sorely,
Jesus,
how I love you!
Jesus, jeered and scoffed by the wild mob
before the mock-court of the high-priest Annas.
esus, how I
love you!
Jesus, dragged rudely through the dark streets
by the beastly mob to the house of Caiaphas.
Jesus, how I
love you!
Jesus, struck in the face severely
with an iron glove by Malchus the servant.
Jesus, how I love you!
Jesus, blamed falsely by bribed judges proclaimed unjustly as deceiver of the people.
Jesus, how I love you!
All hail, O Jesus, All honor to You,
For man degraded, humiliated,
To you, All Holy, praises and glory.
To
You, Christ Redeemer. |
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MARYS DIALOGUE WITH THE SOUL
Oh, how sad and sorely stricken, My soul tried by God, most Holy, As the sword pierces my heart. (2)
Why, O Beloved Mother, are you worried?
Why, O why is your heart heavy?
Why, Mother, are you dismayed? (2)
Ask me not, I'm faint with anguish;
I am speechless and I languish
With the pain that grips my heart. (2)
Tell me, tell me, Blessed Mary,
Why so pale, what grief you carry?
Why so bitterly you weep? (2)
Lo, see my Son dejected
In the Garden, all rejected,
Sweating blood in grief and pain. (2)
O Mother! Fount of love and sorrow,
May my spirit from you borrow
Some of your profound tears! (2)
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