Jesus, my love! Stripped of your clothes, you stand there with a mangled body, but with the meekness of a lamb being led to the slaughter. Your whole body trembles. My heart squeezes with pain as I realize that the blood is oozing from every part of Your Most Holy Body.

Jesus is crowned with thorns a third time

Your enemies, already tired, have not yet had enough of torturing You and tear the crown of thorns from Your head again with their clothes. By putting the crown back on Your head, they make You endure unheard-of torment, for to the first wounds they now add others that are even more painful. In this way you atone for man's unfaithfulness and his persistence in sin.

Jesus, if love had not wanted You to endure even greater pain than this, You would surely have died of the agony of this repeated crowning with thorns. But now I see that You can no longer withstand the pain. With bloodshot eyes, You look around to see if someone will come and hold You up in such suffering and abuse.

But, my sweet goodness, You are not alone here as in the past night. Your sorrowful mother is here. Her heart is pierced with great sorrow. St. Magdalene and Your faithful John are also here, mute with pain in the face of Your suffering. Tell me, my love, who is to sustain You in Your agony? O allow me to do so, who feels the irrefutable need to be close to You in this hour.

Your mother and other faithful ones grant me the right. I approach You, embrace You and ask You to lay Your head on my shoulder and make me feel the pricks of Your thorns, to make satisfaction for all the sins of thought committed by men. My love, lean towards me! I want to wipe away every single drop of Your precious Blood that runs from Your Most Holy Face. I beg You that each of these drops may be light for every created spirit and that no one may offend You with evil thoughts.

Meanwhile You look at the cross that Your executioners are preparing and hear the hammer blows with which they are making holes to drive through the nails that are to fasten You to the cross. Your heart beats mightily and strongly. You rejoice and long to stretch Yourself out on this bed of pain in order to seal the salvation of our souls with Your death. I can already hear You speaking:

"Holy Cross, take Me in your arms, I am tired of waiting. Holy Cross, on you I will give fulfillment to everything. Come and quench without delay the ardent longing that consumes Me to give life to all souls. Do not delay any longer, for great is My desire to rest upon you to open Heaven for all My children.

O Cross, it is true, you are My martyrdom, but in a little while you will also be My victory and most perfect triumph. Through you I will give My children rich inheritance, victories, triumphs and crowns."

Behold, as Jesus is speaking, the executioner's servants order Him to stretch out on the wood of the cross. He obeys them immediately to atone for our disobedience. My love! Before You lie down on the cross, allow me to venerate the bleeding wounds that Love has inflicted on You.

Crucifixion of Jesus

Now, my sweet good, You stretch Yourself out on the cross and wait with great love and gentleness for the executioner's servants, who already have hammer and nails ready to nail You. And You lovingly invite them to hasten the crucifixion. In fact, they now grab Your arms with inhuman brutality, place the nail on the inside palm and drive it in with hammer blows so that it emerges on the opposite side. The pain You endure is so great that You tremble. The light in Your beautiful eyes darkens and Your face turns deathly pale.

Blessed right hand of my Jesus! I kiss You, have pity on You, adore You and thank You for myself and all the others. As many blows of the hammer You receive, as many souls I ask You to deliver from eternal damnation at this moment. As many drops of blood as You shed, may You wash as many souls in Your precious blood. My Jesus, for the sake of this bitter pain I implore You to open heaven to all men and to bless all creatures. May Your Heart have the power to call all sinners to conversion and all false teachers and unbelievers to the light of faith.

Jesus, my sweet life! The agony of crucifixion has only just begun. Barely have Your executioners finished nailing Your right hand when they seize Your left hand with unheard-of cruelty and pull it violently until it reaches the designated nail hole. Your arms and shoulders are torn from their joints, and as a result of the pain, the legs also contract convulsively. With the same crudeness with which they nailed Your right hand, they also nail Your left hand.

Blessed left hand of my Jesus, I kiss You, have pity on You, adore You and ask You, for the sake of the hammer blows and the bitter pain You endure while being nailed, to free all souls from the place of purification at this moment. By the power of the blood shed by Your left hand, I ask You, O Jesus, to extinguish the flames in which these souls burn. May this blood serve as refreshment for all and be a healing bath for them, cleansing them from every stain, so that they may attain to Your blissful contemplation.

My love and my all! For the sake of the bitter pain You endure, I implore You to close hell to all souls and to hold back the flashes of Your justice, however much they may have been provoked by our guilt of sin. Grant, O Jesus, that divine justice may be appeased, that the scourges of its wrath may spare the earth. Also cause the treasures of divine mercy to open up for the welfare of all.

Jesus, into Your arms I place the whole world and all the generations of the earth and with the voice of Your Blood I ask You to deny forgiveness to no one and, for the sake of the merits of this precious Blood, to grant salvation to all souls and to exclude no one from it.

My Jesus! Your enemies, not yet satisfied, seize Your feet with devilish ferocity and pull at them until Your bones come out of their joints. My heart wants to stand still. I see Your eyes darkened with pain and filled with blood, Your lips pale and quivering, Your cheeks sunken, while Your chest rises and falls faster and faster. My love! How I would like to take Your place to spare You this pain. Since this is impossible for me, I would like to put a soothing agent on all Your aching limbs, caress You and give You comfort and atonement for all of them.

My Jesus, now place one foot over the other and drive a blunt nail through it. O blessed feet of my Jesus! I kiss, I adore, I thank and I beg You for the most bitter pains You endure, and by virtue of the Blood You shed, seal all souls in Your sacred wounds. Jesus, do not reject anyone!

May Your nails also give us a foothold, so that we no longer depart from You; may our heart be nailed down, so that it always finds its foothold in You alone; may our inclinations be held fast, so that they find favor in no one but You alone.

My crucified Jesus, I see You as if immersed in a bloodbath in which You ceaselessly plead for souls. By the power of this blood, I beg You, let no more souls escape You.

Jesus, I now approach Your heart torn by pain. I see that You have reached the end of Your strength. Only Your love cries out ever stronger:

“Suffer, suffer, suffer even more!”

Jesus, I embrace You, have compassion on You, adore You and thank You for me and for everyone else. Oh I want to lay my head on Your heart to feel what You are enduring in this agonizing crucifixion. I feel that every blow of the hammer resonates in Your heart. All pain is united here. Oh, if it were not for the counsel of God that a lance should pierce this heart, then the flames of Your body would make their way and cause Your heart to burst. These flames invite Your lovers to take up blissful residence in Your heart. I beseech You for the sake of Your precious blood, sanctify these souls. O never let them depart from Your heart and increase with Your grace the vocations to atonement, so that they may continue Your life on earth. You want to give the preferred place in Your heart to souls who love You. O grant that they may not be deprived of this privilege. Jesus, the flames of Your Heart burn and consume me, Your blood gives beauty to my soul, Your love always keeps me nailed to Your Heart through pain and atonement.

My Jesus! Now Your executioner's servants have nailed Your hands and feet to the cross. Now they turn it over to drive back the tips of the nails. So Your adorable face must touch the earth, reddened by Your blood, and You also touch the earth with Your lips. With this kiss, You, my Love, wish to give all souls the kiss of love, to hold them with Your love and thus seal their salvation. O Jesus, let me take Your soul. While Your tormentors drive back the nails, let their hammer blows strike me and fasten me forever with Your love.

While the thorns penetrate deeper and deeper into Your head, I want to offer You, my sweet good, all my thoughts as a sacrifice. They shall comfort you and soften the intensity of the pain that the thorns inflict on You.

Jesus, I perceive that the executioners cannot do enough to insult and mock You. That is why I want to comfort Your gaze with the gaze of my love.

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth because of Your burning thirst. To quench Your thirst, You want all hearts to overflow with love for You. Since this is not the case, Your thirst for them becomes even greater. My sweet love! I want to channel streams of love towards You in order to quench Your ardent thirst to some extent.

I see that with every movement You make, the wonders of Your hands expand and the pain becomes more and more intense and bitter. In order to offer You refreshment for this pain and to alleviate it, I offer You the sacred works of all men.

Jesus, how You suffer with Your feet! All movements of Your most holy body cause burning pain in them. There is no one near You to offer You support and to ease Your pain a little. My life, I want to set the steps of people of all past, present and future generations in motion and direct them towards You in order to comfort You in Your hard sufferings.

My Jesus, how Your poor heart is martyred! How can I comfort You in this pain? I want to spread myself out in You, to place my heart in Yours, my ardent desires in Yours, so that every evil desire may be destroyed. I want to let my love merge with Yours, so that every human heart may be set ablaze with the fire of Your love and every sinful love may be extinguished. How comforted Your most sacred heart would then be! I promise You to always keep me nailed to Your loving heart with the nails of Your holy desires, Your love and Your truth. My Jesus, You are crucified, then I too am crucified with You. Do not allow me to let go of You in the slightest. I want to remain nailed to You forever. I want to love You and atone for all, so that the pain that people cause You through their guilt of sin may be alleviated.

My Jesus, now Your enemies pick up the heavy beam of the cross and drop it into the hollow they have prepared. Now You, my love, hang between heaven and earth, turn to the Father in this solemn moment and speak in a weak, quiet voice:

"Holy Father! See Me here, laden with the sins of the world! Let there be no guilt that is not shifted to Me, so that in future You will no longer discharge the lightning of Your divine justice on mankind, but on Me, Your Son. Father, allow Me to pin all souls to this cross and beg their forgiveness with the voice of My blood and My wounds. Do You not see how I have been maltreated? By virtue of this Cross and the merits of My Sorrows, grant all men the grace of true conversion, peace, forgiveness and holiness. Restrain Your wrath against poor humanity, against My children. They are blind men who do not know what they are doing. Therefore, look at the state I have fallen into because of them. If you are not moved to compassion by them, at least let Yourself be moved by this face of Mine, stained with saliva, covered in blood, pale and swollen as a result of the many strokes and blows that have been dealt to Me. Mercy, My Father! I was the most beautiful of all human children, now I am so disfigured that I am no longer known. 'I have become the reject of all'¹ That is why I want the poor human race to be saved."

My Jesus, is it possible that You love us to such a degree? Your love crushes my poor heart. Oh, I want to go into the midst of all people and show them Your face, which is so distorted because of them, to move them to compassion for their own souls and for Your love. With the light that shines on Your features and with the ravishing power of Your love, I want to make them understand what You are and what they are, so that they may prostrate themselves before You to adore and glorify You.

My Jesus, adorable Crucified One! The human race constantly provokes Your divine righteousness and always echoes from its mouth the shuddering blasphemies, imprecations, curses and evil speeches. All these voices make the earth roar and rise up to heaven. They also come to the ears of God and cry out for vengeance and justice against men. Oh, how divine justice feels compelled to hurl its lightning bolts at them, and how their blasphemies provoke their wrath.

But You, my Jesus, who love us with supreme love, meet these fatal voices with Your almighty and creative voice and implore mercy, grace and love for mankind. To appease the Father's wrath, You speak to him in love:

"My Father, look to Me and do not listen to the voice of men, but to My voice. It is I who make satisfaction for all. That is why I ask you to see people in Me. Otherwise, what will become of them? They are so weak, so ignorant and full of all kinds of misery, only capable of doing evil. Have pity on these poor people! I stand up for them with My tongue, parched with thirst, burning with love."

My Jesus, immersed in bitterness! My voice, united with Yours, wants to confront all insults, all blasphemies, to be able to transform all human voices into voices of blessings and praises of God.

However, my crucified Savior, even now man does not surrender to such love and pain. On the contrary, he despises You, heaps guilt upon guilt, commits horrible sacrileges, murders, perpetrates deceit, fraud, cruelty and betrayal. All these nefarious works weigh heavily on the arms of Your heavenly Father, who, unable to bear this burden of sin, is about to unleash His wrath and send disaster and destruction upon the earth. You, my Jesus, who want to snatch man from divine wrath because you fear that he will perish, spread out your arms against the Father and prevent Him from giving free rein to His justice.

To move Him to compassion for poor humanity and to stir Him, you speak to Him with an imploring voice:

"My Father, see these hands, how they are torn, and these nails that pierce them and nail them, as it were, to all works of wickedness. How I feel in these hands all the torment that the actions of the wicked cause Me. Are You, My Father, not yet satisfied with My pain? Or am I not able to give You satisfaction? Truly, these arms torn from their joints will always be the chains that bind the poor children of mankind so that they do not escape from Me, except those who want to tear themselves away from Me by force. But these arms of Mine will also be chains of love that bind You, My Father, to prevent You from destroying poor people. Rather, I want to draw You ever closer to them so that You may pour out upon them the streams of Your grace and mercy."

My Jesus! Your love is sweet magic for me and inspires me to do what You do. That is why, at the cost of all suffering, I want to prevent divine justice from taking its course against poor humanity. With the blood that flows from Your hands, I want to extinguish the fire of their guilt, from which they burn, and tame its fury. Allow me to place in Your arms the pain and torment of all people. Give me permission to go to all people and lead them into Your arms so that they may take refuge in Your heart. Do not object if, with the power of Your creative hands, I stem the flow of so many works of wickedness and stop all men from continuing to do evil.

But alas, not content with offending You, men want to drink the cup of guilt to the brim and madly tread the path of vice. They rush from guilt to guilt and transgress Your commandments. Because they do not know You, they rebel against You and take the road to hell in defiance of You. How angry the highest, divine majesty is at this! And You, my Jesus, who triumph over everything, even over the rebelliousness of men, to reconcile the heavenly Father, let them see Your shattered humanity, Your body torn from its joints, maltreated in a terrible way; You show them Your pierced feet, how they are drawn together by the bitterness of torment. I hear Your voice, touching like that of a dying man, which nevertheless wants to conquer human malice through the power of love and pain and triumph over the heart of the Father:

"My Father, look at Me from My head to My feet. There is no healed spot on Me and no place where another wound could be opened, where another pain could be inflicted on Me. If I cannot soften you in this spectacle of love and pain, who else could do it? O children of men, if you do not surrender to this excess of love, what hope is there of converting yourselves? These wounds of Mine and this Blood of Mine will always call down from Heaven to earth graces of repentance, pardon and mercy upon you."

Jesus, my dearest crucified one! The burning thirst that consumes You, Your inner sufferings, which want to suffocate You with bitterness, pain and love and are still connected with other torments, the ingratitude of men, which is so disgraceful to You, all the unspeakable suffering, which, like a storm-tossed wave, penetrates into the innermost part of Your heart, depresses You to such an extent that Your humanity, which can no longer withstand the weight of such torments, is at the end of its tether and begs for help and mercy in an excess of pain and love. My crucified Jesus! Is it possible that You, who rule the universe and give life to all, are now calling for help?

Oh, how I would like to penetrate every drop of Your precious Blood and shed mine to soothe the pain of every wound and make the pricks of Your crown of thorns less agonizing. I want to penetrate every inner suffering of Your heart to take away the bitterness and I want to give You life for life. If it were possible, I would like to take You down from the cross and put myself in Your place. But I see that I am nothing and can do nothing, because I am too poor. So give me Yourself, and I will accept life in You and give Yourself to You. So my wishes would be fulfilled.

My tormented Jesus, I see that it is coming to an end with Your most holy humanity, not for You, no, only to complete our redemption. You are in need of divine assistance, that is why You place Yourself in the hands of Your Father and ask Him for support and help. Oh, how the Father must be moved when He sees the terrible agony of Your humanity, the terrible work that the guilt of sin has done to Your limbs! To satisfy Your longing for love, He presses You to His fatherly heart and gives You the necessary support to complete the work of redemption. But while You rest against the paternal heart, You feel in Your heart to a greater degree the blows of the hammer, the scourging blows, the pain of Your stigmata and the pricks of Your crown of thorns. Oh, how the Father himself feels stricken! How angry He is that these pains, which reach Your Heart, are caused even by the souls consecrated to You! And You, my Jesus, triumphant over everything, also defend the souls consecrated to God and, with the immeasurable love of Your Heart, make reparation for the sea of bitterness and pain they cause You and the Father. To appease Him, You speak to Him:

"My Father, look at this Heart of Mine! May all His sufferings give You satisfaction. The more agonizing they are, the more effective they may be for Your Paternal Heart to implore grace, light and forgiveness for the souls consecrated to You. My Father, do not cast them away from You, for they will be My defenders and those who continue My life on earth."²

Jesus, my crucified life! I see how Your agony begins on the cross. For Your love is not satisfied until Your work is fulfilled. I too suffer the agony with You. All of you, angels and saints, come and see the excess of the love of a God. Let us kiss his bleeding wounds, let us adore them, let us offer support to the torn body, let us thank Jesus for the work of redemption. Let us give a look of love to His mother, pierced with pain, the mother who endures so much pain and so often death in Her Immaculate Heart, as She sees wounds in Her Son, who is also Her God. His clothes are soaked with blood, the calvary is wet with blood.

O let us all take this blood. Let us ask the Sorrowful Mother to unite with us, and then let us spread throughout the world. Let us come to the aid of those in danger, that they may not perish, of those who have fallen, that they may rise again, of those who are about to fall, that their fall may be prevented. Let us give this precious blood to the spiritually blind, that the light of truth may shine in them, but especially to the poor soldiers who are in battle.³ Let us be a shield guard for them! If they are doomed to be hit by an enemy bullet, let us take them in our arms to comfort them. If they lie on the battlefield, abandoned by all, and want to despair of their sad fate, then let us give them this precious blood so that they may resign themselves to their fate and the bitterness of their pain may be soothed. And when we perceive that souls are in danger of falling into hell, let us also give them the blood of the Son of God, which is the price of salvation, and snatch them from Satan.

While I press Jesus to my heart to defend Him against His enemies and to make atonement to Him for all His troubles, I will lay all the children of men to His heart, that all may obtain effective grace of conversion, strength and salvation.

Meanwhile, I see, my Jesus, that abundant blood gushes from Your hands and feet. “The angels of peace, weeping bitterly”, form a crown around You and admire the great deeds of Your infinite love. I see Your Mother at the foot of the cross, pierced with pain, I see the faithful Mary Magdalene, I see Your favorite disciple John, all enraptured by amazement, pain and love.

O Jesus, I unite myself to You, take all the drops of Your precious Blood and pour them into my heart. If I see Your righteousness enraged against sinners, I hold this Your blood before You to appease them. If I ask You for the conversion of souls hardened in sin, then I show You this Your blood. By virtue of this blood You will not reject my prayer, for I carry the pledge of our salvation in my hands.

Now, my crucified good, in the name of all the generations of the world, past, present and future, together with Your Mother and all the holy angels, I prostrate myself before You and say: “We worship You, Lord Jesus Christ, and praise You, for through Your holy cross You have redeemed the world.”

Reflections and Practices

by St. Fr. Annibale Di Francia

Crucified Jesus obeys His executioners. He accepts with Love all the insults and pains which they give Him. Jesus found in the Cross His bed of rest for the great Love that He felt for our poor soul. And we—do we rest in Him in all our pains? Can we say that we prepare a bed for Jesus in our heart with our patience and with our love?

While Jesus is being crucified, there is not one interior or exterior part of Him that does not feel a special suffering. And we, do we remain completely crucified to Him, at least with our main senses? When we find our enjoyment in a futile conversation or in some other similar amusement, then it is Jesus who remains nailed to the Cross. But if we sacrifice that same taste for love of Him, then we remove the nails from Jesus, and we nail ourselves.

Do we always keep our mind, our heart and all of our being nailed with the nails of His Most Holy Will? While being crucified, Jesus looks at His executioners with Love. And we, do we look with love at those who offend us, for love of Him?

All: My Crucified Jesus, may Your Nails be driven into my heart, so that there may be no heartbeat, affection or desire that does not feel their pricking; and may the blood which this heart of mine will shed, be the balm that soothes all of Your Wounds.

¹ I am a worm and not a man, the scorn of men and the sputum of the people."

² By faithful observance of the evangelical counsels in the religious and priestly orders.

³ “The Hours of Christ's Passion” was written for the most part during the First World War.

Sacrifice and Thanksgiving

Sources:

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