the hands of God; and let us afterwards judge which of the two is the most equal, calm, and content, in the vicissitudes of this world: it cannot be doubted but it is the last, since he has found the way to true repose.

CONTEMPLATION.-On Christ imprisoned.—Where have they put thee, O thou God of my soul! Why art thou in the place of this sinner? How comes it that they load thee with chains, and leave me at liberty? What means that? Art thou not, O my Jesus! the Lord strong and powerful, in whom David gloried, that Lord who looseth the fettered? Art not thou he whom the Jews attempted to seize and stone, without being able to do either the one or the other? Art thou then become weak, O divine strength! Is thy strength in thy hair, as Sampson's was? How could they imprison thee? Nothing but love, Ō my Saviour! was capable of seizing thee, of binding thee, and of confining thee. I adore that incomprehensible love, which cannot be satiated with sufferings, nor fully satisfied, till it has accomplished the work of my salvation.

Take at least, O Lord! some hours rest. Breathe a moment after so painful a night. Men and beasts have the night-time to refresh themselves in, and thou spendest it all entirely in suffering. Let me take thy place, and receive the affronts which they are still preparing for thee. But since thou wilt not, and since I behold thee loaded with chains, and overwhelmed with fatigues, cast upon me at least, before thou art taken out of that prison, one of those looks which penetrated the heart of thy apostle. Mine sighs towards thee, from the bottom of its misery, and implores thy mercy. Regard my necessities, O Lord! and send me that spirit which make me feel thy pains, and imitate thy virtues.

II. Is not the day sufficient for thee, O my God! for accomplishing the work of our redemption, without employing the night also therein? Thieves deprive themselves of rest in the night, in order to obtain what they desire; and thou, O Lord! art intent day and night on seeking an entrance into my heart. Lose not thy rest on that account. Behold this heart which thou desirest; snatch it from those creatures which possess it; carry it away with thee; establish thy abode in it; and take thy rest therein, after so many labours. Hearken to the voice of its misery and desires. Be more attentive to the faith and love which thou inspirest me with, than to the blasphemies which those impious people vent against thee.

III. Forget, O Lord! the weight of my chains, since they deliver me from the weight of my sins. Forget the obduracy of those hearts, which love thee not, and are not touched with thy torments; and cast thy eye upon this: wholly defiled, and miserable as it is, thou hast enlightened it with the lights of faith; would be gladly able to comfort thee, to share thy reproaches with

thee, and to receive thee within itself. I own that this abode is unworthy of thee; but thou art expected there, O Lord! thou art desired there: repose therein, at least, during the time of thy captivity. Thou shalt be less ill-treated there, than thou art among those blind people: for in fine, such as I am, I acknowledge thee for my true, only, and sovereign good. Thou canst, in the short time thou hast yet to remain in that prison, fill me with thy love, and lead me afterwards with thee into the other places where thou art to suffer.

I cannot express all my heart desires; but thou knowest it, O Lord! since it is thou who inspirest me therewith; accomplish it, since thou canst. Produce in my soul the fruits of thy captivity, chains, affronts, and of the love wherewith thou endurest them. And though I be the cause thereof, show in me how far thy mercy is above my sins.

IV. I neither doubt of the love thou hast for me, O thou salvation of my soul! nor of the goodness with which thou art willing to pardon me, and to receive me into thy friendship. But I am diffident of myself, and of the inclination which induces me to evil: I am always afraid lest it should separate me from thee, and render me unworthy of thy grace. But since thou hast left me penance as a remedy for my evils, and a plank in my shipwreck, I conjure thee, O my Saviour! by the chains wherewith thou art loaded, to break mine, and to hear the sorrowful confession I make thee of my misery.

Pardon me, O Lord! the share I have in thy bonds and prison. I know I am the cause thereof, and that the captivity thou sufferest is the effect of my criminal liberty. Pardon me the too free thoughts to which I have let my mind give way. Pardon me the liberty of my tongue, which has made so many wounds in my soul. Pardon me the liberty of my senses, which has so often separated me from thee. Pardon me the lukewarmness wherewith I have loved thee, the negligence with which I have served thee, and the licentiousness of a heart always divided by a thousand affections contrary to thy law.

I condemn before thee, O my God! all the disorders of my life; and I confess, in the sight of heaven and earth, that I have abused, in offending thee, the free will which thou hadst given me, in order to serve thee. Have mercy on me, O Father of mercy! grant that those tormentors of thine may seize me, bind me, and imprison me, since thou seest I destroy myself when I am free, O that I were free only for doing good! May I be rather a captive for thee, and with thee, O my God! than free at a distance from thee.

V. But since the bad use I have made of my liberty, has occasioned thee such great pains, suffer me at least to bear a part of them.

I return my liberty into thy hands; it is thine, since thou gavest it to me; and it is reasonable that I should be deprived of it, since I have abused it so long. I restore it therefore to thee, O Lord! receive it through thy mercy; give it not to me again, even though I should beg it of thee; and confide no longer in a perfidious person, that has so often betrayed thee. But do thou, O my Jesus! who art the way, the truth, and the life, speak by my tongue; see by my eyes; hear by my ears; and govern my interior and exterior senses; be the principle of my motions; draw all my thoughts to thee; establish thy abode in my heart; attach me for ever to thy service. I cast myself at thy feet like Magdalen; I embrace them with all my heart; I joyously salute those chains with which thou art loaded; and I adore the affronts which thou endurest for my salvation.

O that thou wouldst chain me, and wouldst draw me after thee, by the bonds of thy charity! O that in the midst of the profound silence which thou observest, thou wouldst make me hear the sweetness of thy voice! O that thou wouldst say to my soul: many sins are forgiven thee, because thou hast loved much. Luke vii. 47. When will the moment come, wherein I shall hear those so comfortable words? Thou canst now pronounce them, O my Jesus! Speak then, O Lord! for thy servant hears. And though thou art silent in regard of those impious persons who surround thee, be not silent in regard of me; say to my heart this single word, I am thy salvation. I firmly believe thou art so, O my God! But my interior would gladly hear thee say it, because there is a charm in thy voice capable of elevating all the powers of my soul.

It is true all thy actions are instructive, O my Saviour! Thy reproaches are persuasive, and everything speaks in thee, even thy silence. But I cannot be satisfied, unless thou thyself speakest to me. Remember, O Lord! that thou hast said, by one of thy prophets, that thou wilt draw us to thee, in the cords of Adam, in the bands of charity.—Osee xi. 4. I see already the bands of Adam, thy sacred humanity, those blows, those affronts, and that prison. The sins of Adam, and of his posterity, which thou hast vouchsafed to take upon thee, art truly the bands of Adam; but where are those chains of charity, wherewith I ought to be bound? Why am I still free? Why do I commit, with so much freedom, what evil I will? What hinders those chains from binding me? Draw me, O Lord! with those chains of love, bind me fast, and fix me to thee in such a manner, that I may never separate myself from thee. Grant that I may feel thy pains, imitate thy patience, and that thou mayest not suffer unprofitably for me. I beg this favour of thee, by the chains wherewith thou art loaded, and by the love with which thou bearest them.

VI. O that I were so happy as to see what passes in thee! 0

that I could know what the occupation of thy heart is, during so unworthy a treatment! Those barbarians think on nothing but tormenting thee, and thou thinkest on nothing but suffering for them. Whilst their minds are studying new means of affronting thee, thine is labouring for their reconciliation; and it is in that profound contemplation that thou receivest strength for accomplishing the remainder of thy sacrifice. How great a truth hast thou said, O my Lord and my God! when thou affirmest, that thou wilt refresh all those that come to thee.-Matt. xi. 28. I never repented of having come to thee; and I was never satisfied when I departed from thee; because there is nothing good without thee. When my mind is far from thee, the least pain overwhelms it; and when it is near thee, the greatest labours do not terrify it. How can I be strong without thee, O thou support and strength of my soul!

VII. I am not so weak, so sad, or so dejected in the evils which befal me, but because I seek the remedy without thee; or, because I only begin to have recourse to thee when I find myself oppressed. With thee, O my God! the bitterest things become sweet, and the heaviest burden weighs light; because thy presence dissipates our darkness, and enriches our poverty. Teach me to have recourse to thee in all my necessities, and to suffer with thee all my pains. I shall always find thee ready to help me; for lo! he shall not slumber nor sleep, that keepeth Israel.-Ps. cxx. 4. Grant then, O Lord! that in the troubles of this life my heart may repose in thee, and seek no other consolation but from thee, who art my true comforter, and who alone knowest my evils, as thou alone canst remedy them.

O most holy Virgin! the refuge and protection of those who invoke you, represent my poverty to the Lord, who wrought such great things in you; and since the liberty of my heart is the source of all my evils, I beg by your means, obtain me those bonds of love, that I may remain fastened to Christ all my life. Blessed spirits! who, free from the miseries of this life, enjoy an infinite happiness, without fear of losing it; be mindful of these poor banished souls, and lift up our hearts by your intercession to the desires of those goods which ye possess, that we may one day possess them with you in a happy eternity. Amen.

THIRTY-FOURTH SUFFERING OF CHRIST.-He is ignominiously dragged through the streets of Jerusalem.

I. Friday, the happiest day that ever enlightened the world, being come, men were in very different dispositions. Christ could not behold a more sorrowful day for him, nor one more desired at the same time; since it was that whereon his love, restrained for so many years out of obedience, was at last to satisfy itself by the consummation of its sacrifice.

He had ardently wished for that day all his life, and he saw it come with joy; because he was just upon the point of triumphing over hell, of uniting heaven and earth together, of submitting the hearts of his elect to his will, of redeeming sinners, and of opening to all men the treasures of his infinite mercy. But the world looked upon that day with indifference, because it was ignorant of the immense goods which were prepared for it. And our Saviour's enemies, blinded by their own malice, abandoned of God, and become at the same time the ministers of the devil, and the executioners of the eternal design which they knew not, imagined that they ought to lose no moment of a day so proper to satisfy their hatred, though it was to be to them a source of miseries, and a subject of immortal glory to Christ.

II. Thus, without it being necessary to send for them, they came to Caiphas's house at the dawning of the day. They agreed together about those points upon which they should condemn our Saviour. They resolved to insist thereon, whatever might be said in his favour, to oppress him by their clamours and number, if he undertook to defend himself, and to bring Pilate into their opinion, either by consent or by force. They were so afraid lest this affair should not succeed, that they imparted it to no one. They would lead him away by themselves, being persuaded, that since they were masters of the people, priests of the temple, doctors of the law, and having with them the Pharisees, who made profession of a holy life, nothing could be capable of resisting their authority.

But before Pilate, who, being governor of the province, was engaged in other affairs, and the people, who a few days before had received Christ with such great acclamations, could have time to excite any commotion for saving him, they ordered him to be ignominiously dragged through the streets of the city, that they might render him odious and contemptible to the people, who judge of things only by appearances, and pass so easily from love to hatred. They took him therefore out of prison, saying a thousand injurious things to him, treating him as an accursed, a seducer, and magician. They called him no longer by his holy name, which they were unworthy to pronounce; and they were not touched with all the evils that he had suffered during the night.

Some asked him, 'out of a cruel raillery, whether he would not work some miracle? others blessed God, who had discovered such dangerous impostures; then pulled him to one side, pushed him to another, and continually pressed him to walk on, though he was overwhelmed with weariness, after a night wherein he had suffered so much. If he happened to fall or stumble, they loaded him with strokes and injuries, as the most contemptible of all men. The more he deserved veneration for his modesty and sanctity, the more unworthily was he treated.