Tractatus Alter, Pars Prior, Cap. 17. De armatura Christi, cruce, clavis, lancea et corona spinea.

Tractatus Alter, Pars Prior, Cap. 17. De armatura Christi, cruce, clavis, lancea et corona spinea.

I bless you and give thanks to you, Lord Jesus Christ, King of all kings, for your triumphant and royal arms, namely the cross, the nails, the spear, the crown of thorns, the rod, the staff, and the pillar, to which you were bound naked and severely scourged, and for all the other parts and torments of your sacred passion, for us worthless sinners, to conquer the devil and the lovers of the world with all their pomp and wickedness, to grant mercy and forgiveness of sins to all who believe in you and truly repent, to attain the hope of eternal salvation and the glory of heavenly beatitude with your holy angels in heaven after the future and general resurrection of the dead according to the merits of each individual, both good and evil. Then many signs will appear in heaven and on earth, and the wounds of your sacred passion will be displayed with the banner of the cross and the other weapons of your triumph, bringing joy and confidence to the elect, and terror and sorrow to the damned. Then all the chosen ones will rejoice: the humble, the innocent, the devoted, the pure, the simple, the obedient, the meek, and those who have often suffered injury for your name, reflecting sorrowfully on your passion and your sacred wounds as if they were their own, and giving you their greatest thanks. Then the proud, greedy, envious, gluttonous, and self-serving will greatly fear and mourn for themselves, rarely or never reflecting compassionately on your passion and your wounds, but rather weighing their own gains and comforts more than your benefits and bitter wounds. So, Lord, protect me from these wicked and ungrateful people, and always unite me with the pure and innocent sheep of your flock, for whom you deemed it fitting to be crucified, to die, and to be wounded by many blows out of love. O most gentle Jesus, clothe me now with the strength of your power and surround me on all sides with the sacred arms of your most bitter passion, in every place and at all times, because of the many snares and temptations of the evil spirit attacking me from the right and from the left, in a thousand ways and arts, always with wicked and vain intentions. Therefore, Lord, I humbly flee to your passion and I ask to be comforted by you and powerfully aided. O loving Jesus, helper and defender in every temptation and tribulation of this life, raise before my face on high the royal banner of your holy cross, the eternal sign of salvation, the standard of divinity, the bow of humanity, and the shield, the strongest fortress, the terrible sword against the devil's fury and battle, against the clamor of the world and the sting of the flesh, against every vice and perverse thought, against the spirit of blasphemy and the abyss of despair that seeks to drown me, and often turn me away from the invocation of your sweetest name, Jesus, and of your holy mother, Mary, and from your holy service, to ruin my life and reputation, and what is worse, to draw me away from the true faith and the veneration and love of the holy Church, which is well-pleasing to you. O Jesus, most powerful King, may your holy cross be my salvation, peace, and life; my shield, sword, and spear; a tower of strength against the enemy, a firm wall against the deceit of the ancient serpent, light in my home, a guide on my way, and a good guard both inside and out, above and below, against many obstacles and dangers. May the sweet and beloved cross be my rest in labor, comfort in sorrow, healing in weakness, and anointing in pain; may it be my protection in solitude, my caution in crowds, my light in darkness, my joy at noon, and my praise, honor, virtue, and glory in the evening. Let the cross, which is beautiful and precious to me, be sweetness in bitterness, health in sickness, faithfulness in struggle, my only hope at the moment of death, assistance in judgment, protection from hell, liberation from all punishment, and a welcome from the holy angels into heaven with glory. Lord Jesus, still apply to me your holy nails, which were harshly driven into you while hanging on the cross, to guard my heart, my mouth, and all my senses, and against the terrors of demons, both by day and night, so that, seeing the marks of your nails, they may flee from me as if from sharp arrows and allow me to rest in your peace or to pray and seriously reflect on the sufferings of your nails in the body of my Lord Jesus Christ, and may they not dare to disturb me with wicked fantasies while I contemplate your holy wounds, which you bore in your hands and feet, so great and profound. Please place your sharp lance at my side at all times, whether I'm awake or asleep, to guard my heart. Let it be firmly fixed in you while you are dead, so that I may be united with you on the cross, mourning within, rejecting all worldly distractions outside, and excluding all vanity, focusing only on what is divine and remembering your holy wounds. Let your wounds, my God, remain in my heart so that nothing impure stays in me any longer. O most high and loving Jesus Christ, firm hope of believers, strength of those who fight, crown of victors, wisdom of the contemplative, light of the ignorant, show me also in the prison of this exiled body your holy and blessed crown of thorns, which was harshly inflicted upon your sacred head with derision and a severe blow, and impressed with your most holy blood, flowing from many wounds on all sides. Let there be, I pray, a great outpouring from this holy and most bitter crown, a full cleansing of all my sins, a flood of tears, and a sudden softening of my dry heart. Let the frequent remembrance of this holy and blessed crown be mine, along with a strong imagination of your great wounds, an inspection of all evil things, and the expulsion of all unclean thoughts, as well as the removal of all tribulations. For intense pain in the head extinguishes desire in the other members of the body. Let the fresh pain of this thorny and bloody crown enter deeply into my heart, stirring all the members of my body, filling me with bitterness to cleanse away all the filth of my soul, which I have accumulated over a long time in my foolishness. May every high desire within me be crushed to nothing, every beautiful thing turned to dust, every precious thing to mud, every flower to rot, every delight to the bitterest wormwood, every pleasant thing to lamentation, and every ridiculous and playful thing to derision and contempt. O how beautiful and splendid will be the crown of a devoted and pure soul in heavenly glory, which so often and sorrowfully thinks about the crown of thorns of Jesus and carries all its bitter wounds with grief in its memory. I believe that such a soul, dying and departing from this troubled life, will have hope for forgiveness and confidence in your great mercy at the end, remembering your sacred passion, Lord. Therefore, because of each of your wounds, forgive me all my daily and ancient sins, just as you did for the holy Mary Magdalene out of your pure mercy and grace, who wept greatly for her sins and especially for the holy wounds inflicted on you because of our serious sins, which are truly very many. But your mercy and compassion have triumphed, most merciful Jesus, over all our new and old evils, because of the bowels of your mercy and the countless wounds of your body, which you patiently endured at the hands of the wicked, and which were witnessed by many tears from your holy mother and beloved Mary Magdalene. Therefore, even more, cleanse me, Lord, from within in your scourging and strict binding with ropes to the hardest column before many who stand by, laughing and mocking you, with no one feeling compassion for you or blushing in shame, but like furious dogs wanting to tear apart an innocent lamb with their teeth, they added blows to blows and inflicted pains upon you, with you saying nothing in protest and not crying out: O woe, O woe, why are you beating me so harshly? O how great and ineffable is your patience, Lord Jesus, in such great affliction and the bloody wounds of yours for the expiation of my sins. I have sinned, Lord, and you are being punished for me. I have acted unjustly and often sinned in many ways, yet you are unjustly condemned by the wicked in no way. I often laugh foolishly, while you are shamefully mocked. I want to be well-dressed and pleasing to people, but you hang naked with the criminals. I feast on good food and drink, while you are given vinegar and the bitterest gall on the altar of the cross. I sleep on a soft bed, while you are buried in a hard tomb, like one cast aside in the world. I often pass before the cross with dry eyes, but Mary Magdalene and the other holy women did not stop weeping until they saw you risen from the dead and held your holy feet in adoration. Give me, gentle Jesus, to think on these things and to weep like your holy and most devoted lover Mary Magdalene and your other disciples, so that I may reach the glory of the resurrection on the last day, when the trumpet sounds, and enter with all your chosen ones into the kingdom of eternal blessedness. Amen. Let your most noble armor, Lord Jesus Christ, be my firm protection both within and without against all the arrows of the enemy and any worldly temptations and adversities. Amen.