LENT WITH OUR LADY
What words can ever describe the indescribable anguish that rent the sacred heart of Mary as she looked upon her divine Son hanging on the
cross! Was there ever such a spectacle? He is so torn and mangled, covered with a mantle of blood from head to foot, that one can scarcely
recognise in that unsightly figure the human form. Can it be He, the fairest among the children of men? My God, what can have transformed Him into this piteous, this ghastly object?
My Sorrowful Mother, by the merit of that grief which thou didst feel in seeing thy beloved Jesus led to death, obtain for me the grace that I also may bear with patience the crosses which God sends me. Happy indeed shall I be if I only know how to accompany thee with my cross until death. Thou hast carried a far heavier cross; and shall I, a sinner, refuse to carry mine? Ah, Immaculate Virgin, from thee do I hope for help to bear all crosses with patience. Amen.
Cultivate a childlike confidence in the maternal love and mercy of the Queen of heaven and earth.