Page:The pastor in his closet.djvu/72



my first thoughts this day, most holy Jesus, be of Thy Passion. When I wake up, before all things let me remember Thy Cross, that bitter tree of Thy death, that sweet tree of our life, the place of Thy shame and of our hope, where Thou wast delivered to death, and we freed from death, where Thou didst die, and whence we did begin to live, whereon Thou didst suffer, and wherein we glory.

Blessed be Thou, our Saviour, for Thy great love that brought Thee to so great suffering. Thanks be to Thee that Thou didst not send for Thy legions of angels to deliver Thee, and that Thou didst not come down from the Cross, but didst remain to deliver us, and to finish the mystery of the sacrifice of Thyself. Thanks be to Thee that Thou didst not put that cup from Thee, but didst drink it, even to its most bitter dregs; for no sorrow was like unto Thy sorrow, no shame like unto Thy shame, no death like unto Thy death, who didst descend from the fulness of the glory of Thy Father.