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 with Thee in Thy victory over death; and it is love that makes me bewail Thy having had to bear such a heavy load of anguish for my sake.

Come then, O faithful soul, and look upon the pale and careworn features of thy crucified Saviour; mark each several limb of Jesus Who is dead, and let the greatness of thy compassion make thine eyes run down with tears. Thy time is well spent, very sacred are thy thoughts, when thou art occupied in contemplating Jesus hanging on the Cross. As a cluster of cypress in the vineyards of Engaddi, so is the thought of the Crucified in the heart of a good man. If, then, thine eye is pitiful, if thou hast in thee aught of the milk of human kindness, lift up the eyes of thy mind to meditate upon God, crucified for thee, hanging dead upon the Cross. There before thee is the Tree of the Cross, upon which hangs thy Salvation; of the devout the Redemption, of unbelievers the laughing-stock. His lifeless, thorn-crowned Head is bowed low upon His sacred Breast. The Eyes of Him from Whose all-seeing Eye no secret can be hid, are sightless now. The Ears of Him Who foreknows all things, hear nothing now. He Who gives to flowers the sweetness of their scent, smells nothing now. The sense of taste has gone from Him Who gives to all things that have life their life and food. He Who makes the dumb to speak opens His Lips no more. He Who teaches men knowledge is silent now. That Tongue which preached the truth lies useless in His Throat. That Face, which once was brighter than the Sun, is now deadly pale. Those Cheeks, which once were fair as a turtle-dove's, are fair no longer. Those Hands, by which the heavens were spread out, are pierced now with cruel nails. The