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.



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.


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)

The Gorzkie Zale [gosh-geh-zahl-leh] began in Warsaw's Holy Cross Church as a play in 1646.  inviting participants to reflect on the mystery of Christian redemption, the Passion and death of the Christ. This deep appreciation for the Passion is seen in the most popular Polish image of Christ, Chrystus Frasobliwy, the so-called "sorrowing Christ," which depicts Christ in the Garden, bent in prayer and sorrow. The Lamentations highlight the very emotional nature of Polish spirituality, inviting a personal identification with the Suffering Lord and His Mother. The devotion is most often preceded by Benediction and chanted kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament.

May God wrap you in His Arms today and give you strength. Father in Heaven through the mystical wounds of Your Son Jesus have mercy on the souls who visit my web pages. Whoever visits this site is automatically prayed for night and day as long as I live God knows who you are and He will apply your petitions. My motto is I will not let the devil have my family, or any family. My soul or any soul, if I can prevent it, through prayer, sacrifice and pain and despair. I will fight the devil tooth and nail, till I take my last breath and then fight him from heaven for souls here on earth Prayer requests contact: