Thvrsdaie Morninge

THIS daie, (when thou hast made the signe of the Crosse, and prepared thy selfe hereunto) thou hast to meditate, and consider: How our Sauiour was crowned with thornes: how Pilate said of him to the people, ECCE HOMO: Beholde the man: and how he bare the Crosse vpon his shoulders.

Christus passus est pro nobis, vobis relinquens exemplum, vt sequamini vestigia eius: 1 pet. 2.21.

Meditations Vpon These Poyntes of the Text

COME forthe O yee dawghters of Sion, and beholde kinge Salomon with the crowne, wherewith his mother crowned him at the daie of his espousels, and vpon the daie of the ioyefulnes of his harte. O my sowle, what doest thou? O my harte, what thinkest thou? O my tounge, how is it, that thou arte become domme? What harte is not broken? What hardnes is not mollified? What eies can absteine from teares, and lamentation, beholdinge such a pittiefull and dolefull sight, as this is? O my most sweere sauiour, and redeemer, when I open myne eies, and doe beholde this dolorous Image, which is here set before me, how is it, that my harte doth not euen cleaue and rente in sunder, for verie anguishe and griefe? I see the most tender head of my Lorde, and sauiour, pearced with crewell thornes, at whose presence the powers of heauen do tremble, and quake: I see his diuine face spitted vpon, and buffeted: I see the lighte of his goodlie brighte forehead, obscured: I see his cleare eies dimmed, or rather blinded with showers of bloude: I see the streames of bloude, tricklinge downe from his head: which faulle ouer ouer his eies, and stayne the bewtie of his diuine face. How happeneth it (o Lord,) that the cruell whippinges, thou diddest suffer before, and the death that ensueth, and the great quantitie of bloude that was so cruellie shed, did not suffice, but that the sharpe thornes also shoulde now perforce let out the bloude of thy head, which the whippes and scourges before had pardoned? If thou diddest receaue those reproches, and buffettes, to make satisfaction by them for such blowes, and buffettes, as I through my sinnes haue laid vpō thee, haddest thou not receaued enowghe of them all the nighte before? If thy death alone was sufficiente to redeeme vs, what neded so manie kindes of most shamefull villanies, and reproches? To what ende were all these newe inuentions, and strange deuises of contemptes and mockeries? Who hath euer harde, or red of such a kinde of crowne? or of such maner of tormentes? Out of what harte came this newe inuention into the worlde, that one punnishement shoulde serue in such wise as both to tormente a man, and withall to dishonor him? Were not those cruell tormentes sufficiente, that had bene vsed in all former ages, but that they must also inuent these newe and strange punnishementes at the time of thy most bitter passion? I see well (ô Lorde) that these so manifolde iniuries were not necessarie for my redemption, (for euen one onelye droppe of thy most pretious bloude was sufficient for the same,)¹ howbeit it was verie conueniente, that they shoulde be so manie, and so greate, that thou mightest thereby declare vnto me, the greatnes of thy loue, and by meanes of them lincke me vnto thee with chaynes, and fetters of perpetuall bonde, and dewtie, and confounde the gaye braueries, and fonde showes of my pride, and vanities, and teache me thereby to despise the pompe, and glorie of the worlde.

Wherefore ô my soule, that thou maist conceaue, and haue somme feelinge of this so dolefull passage, set first before thyne eies, the former shape of this Lorde, and withall the excellencie of his vertues: and then incontinentlie tourne thy selfe, and beholde him in such pitiefull forte, as he is here represented vnto vs. Consider therefore the greatnes of his former beawtie: the modestie of his eies, the sweetenes of his wordes, his awthoritie, his meeknes, his mylde behauiour, and that goodlie countenance of his, so full of grauitie, and reuerence. Beholde how humble he was towardes his disciples: how faire spoken towardes his ennemies: How stowte towardes the prowde: How sweete towardes the meike: and how mercifull towardes all sortes of persons. Consider how mylde he hath alwaies bene in sufferinge, how wise in answeringe, how pittiefull in his iudgemētes, how mercifull in receauinge sinners, and how free, and bountiefull in perdoninge theire offences.

When thou hast thus beholden our Sauiour and delighted thy selfe with beholdinge such a perfect forme: tourne thyne eies and beholde him in this pitiefull plighte, wherein he is here set out to the worlde, clad in most scornefull wise with an olde purple garmente, holdinge a reede in his hande in steede of a royall scepter. Beholde that horrible and paynefull diademe of thorne on his head, those hollowe and wanne eies, and that dead countenance. Beholde that strange forme of his, wholie disfigured, and begored with bloude, and defyled with the spittle, which they had besmered all ouer his face. Beholde him in all partes, both inwardelie, and outwardelie, his harte pearced with sorrowes: his bodie full of woundes: forsaken of his owne disciples: persecuted of the Iewes: scorned of the souldiers: contemned of the Busshoppes: baselie reiected of the wicked kinge: accused vniustely: and vtterlie destitute of the fauour of all men.

And thinke vpon this, not as a thinge past, but as a thinge presente: not as thowghe it were an other mans payne, but as thowghe it were thyne owne. Imagine thy selfe to be in the place of him, that suffereth, and thinke with thy selfe what a terrible paine it woulde be vnto thee, if in so sensible and tender a parte as the head is, they shoulde fasten a nō ber of thornes (yea and those verie sharpe) which shoulde pearce euen to the sculle. But what speake I of thornes? If it were but one onelie pricke of a pynne, thou couldest hardlie abyde the paine of it. And therefore thou maist well thinke what a sore greuous paine that most tender, and delicate head of our sauiour felte at that time, with this strange kinde of tormente.

Wherefore o brightnes of the glorie of the father, who hath thus cruelly delte with thee? O vnspotted glasse of the maiestie of almightie God, who hath thus wholie bespotted thee? O Riuer that flowest out of the paradice of delightes, and with thy streames reioycest the Citie of God, who hath troubled these so cleare, and sweete waters? It is my sinnes (o Lorde) that haue so troubled them,² and my iniquities haue made them so muddie. Alas poore wretche and miserable caityffe, that I am. Woo is me, how haue my sinnes bespotted myne owne soule, seinge the sinnes of others haue here so fowlye bespotted and troubled the verie cleare fountaine of all bewtie? My sinnes ô Lorde, are the thornes that pricke thee: my folies are the purple, that scorne thee: my hipochresie ād fayned holines are the ceremonies, wherewith they despise thee: my gaie garmentes, and vanities, are the crowne, wherewith they crowne thee. So that I ô Lorde am thy tormentor, and I am the verie cause of thy paines, and greiffes.³ The kinge Ezechias, purified the temple, that had bene prophaned by wicked persons, and commaunded that all the filthe, that was therein, shoulde be cast into the riuer of Cedron. I O Lorde am this liuely temple, that is prophaned by the diuells, and defyled with infinite sinnes: and thou art the cleare riuer of Cedron, that doest with thy ronninge streames susteine all the bewtie of heauen. In this riuer o Lorde are all my sinnes drowned: In this riuer are my iniquities washed awaie, in somuch as by the merite of that vnspekeable charitie, and humilitie, with which thou hast humbled thy selfe, to take vpon thee all my sinnes, thou hast not onelie deliuered me from them: but also made me partaker of thy graces and treasures. For in takinge vpon thee my deathe, thou hast geuen me thy life, in takinge vpon thee my fleshe, thou hast geuen me thy spirite, and in takinge vpon thee my sinnes, thou hast geuen me thy grace. So that (ô my mercifull redeemer) all thy paines,⁴ are my treasures, and riches: thy purple clotheth me: thy crowne honoreth me: thy strookes bewtifie me: thy sorowes comforte me: thy angwishes susteine me: thy woundes heale me: thy bloude enricheth me: and thy loue makethe me dronke. And what wonder is it, if thy loue make me dronke, seinge the loue thou barest towardes me, was able to make thee also dronken, and to leaue thee like an other Noe to appeare dishonored, and naked,⁵ to the open sighte of the worlde The purple of bourninge loue causeth thee to susteyne the purple of shame, and reproche: the earnest zeale thou hast of my profit, and furtherance, causeth thee, to be contente to holde this reede in thy hande: And the compassion thou hast of my losse, and damnation, moueth thee to beare this dolorous crowne of ignominie vpon thy head.

OF THOSE WORDES OF THE GOSPELL, ECCE HOMO: Beholde the man. Opprobrium hominum, et abiecti

VHEN they had thus crowned, and scorned our Sauiour: the Iudge tooke him by the hande, in such euill plight, as he was, and leadinge him out to the sighte of the furious people, said these wordes vnto them: ECCE HOMO, Beholde the man. Whiche is as much as if he had saied. If for enuie yee seeke his deathe, beholde him here in what a pitiefull, and dolefull case he is. A man vndowtedlye not to be enuied, but to be pittied. If you were afrayed least he shoulde haue become a kinge, beholde him here so wholie disfigured, that scarcelye he seemeth to be a man? Of these handes so faste, and stronglie bounde, what cause is there, why ye shoulde feare? Of a man in this wise so sore whipped, and scourged, what woulde ye require more?

By this maist thou vnderstande (ô my soule) in what a lamentable case our Sauiour was at his goinge out of the iudgement haulle, seinge that euen the Iudge himselfe verelie belieued that the pittiefull case in which he was, mighte haue suffised to mollifie, and breake the vnmercifull cruell hartes of his ennemies, Whereby thou maist well perceaue, what a dangerous, and vnseemelie thinge it is, for a Christian, not to haue compassion of the most grieuous, and bitter paines, and sorowes, of our sauiour:⁶ seinge they were so great, that they were able (as the Iudge was perswaded) to mollifie those most sauage and cruell stonye hartes of the Iewes. Where loue is, there is also sorrowe. How can he then saie, that he loueth our Sauiour Christe: that beholdinge him tormēted in this most pittiefull, and dolefull plighte, hath no cōpassion of him?

And if it be so wicked a thinge not to haue compassion of our Sauiour Christ, what a heynous matter is it to encrease his paines, and martirdomes, and to adde thereunto sorowe, vpon sorowe? Suerlie there coulde not be anie greater crueltie in all the worlde, than after that the Iudge had shewed our sauiour Christ vnto them so pittiefullye berayed, for his ennemies to answere with such cruell wordes: Crucifige: Crucifige: Crucifie him: Crucifie him: Now if this was so great a crueltie in the Iewes, what a crueltie is that in a Christian, who in his deedes and workes saieth euen as much as the Iewes did, althowgh he expresse it not in wordes.⁷ For dothe not S. Pawle saie? That he that sinneth, crucifieth the sonne of God againe. Forsomuch as towchinge his parte, he doth a thinge whereby he woulde binde him to dye againe, if his former death had not bene sufficient. How is it then (ô Christian) that thou hast thy harte, and handes, readie bent, to crucifie our Lorde and redeemer, so often tymes in this wise with thy sinnes? Thou owghtest to consider, that like as the Iudge presented that so pittiefull forme to the Iewes, supposinge there was none other more effectuall meane, to withdrawe them from theire furie, than that dolefull sight: euen so the heauenlye father presenteth that same dolefull sighte daily vnto all sinners: meaninge thereby, that in verie dede there is none other more effectuall meane, to withdrawe them from sinne, than to set before them this so pittiefull a forme. Make acompte therefore, that euen now the heauenlie father laieth also the same pittiefull forme of his most deere, and onelie begotten sonne before thy face, and that he saieth vnto thee: ECCE HOMO: Beholde the man: As thowghe he shoulde saie: Beholde this man, in what a dolorous case he standeth, and remember withall, that he is God almightie, and that he standeth in this most dolefull, and lamentable plighte, as here thou seest him, not for anie other cause, but for the verie sinnes of the worlde. See into what plighte God is browght by the sinnes of man. Consider, how necessarie it was to satisfie for sinne. And consider also,⁸ how abhominable and horrible a thinge sinne is in the sight of almightie God: seinge it so disfigured his owne onelie sonne, to destroye it. Consider moreouer, what a sore reuenge almightie God will take of a sinner, for such sinnes as he himselfe committeth, sithe he hath so sharpelie punnished his owne most dearlie beloued and innocent sonne, for the sinnes of others. Last of all consider the rigour of the iustice of almightie God, and the fowle stayninge malice of sinne, which appeareth so dreadfullie euen in the verie face of Christ the sonne of God. Now what thinge coulde possiblie be done of greater efficacie, both to cause men to feare God, and also to abhorre synne?

It seemeth hereby, that almightie God hath showed him selfe towardes man, as a good louinge mother is wont to doe towardes her wicked dawghter, that seeketh lewde meanes to plaie the harlot. For when neither wordes, nor punnishement be able to diswade her from her wicked diuelish purpose, she tourneth her rage against her owne selfe, she beateth her owne face, and teareth her heare, and when she is thus disfigured, she setteth her self before her dawghter, that thereby she maie vnderstande the greatnes of her offence, and that at the least for verie pittie, and compassion of her mother, she maie be moued to leaue her wicked purpose.

Now it seemeth that almightie God hath vsed the verie same remedie here, for the chastesinge of men, settinge before them his own diuine Image, to witt: the face of his own most deerelie beloued sonne, so euill vsed, and disfigured, to the end, that where as they had bene so manie tymes admonished and rebuked by the mowthes of his Prophettes, and yet woulde not forsake theire wickednes, they might at the least be moued for verie compassion to forsake the same, beholdinge that diuine forme of our Sauiour Christ in such pittiefull wise disfigured for theire synnes. So that before, he laid his handes vpon men, but now he came, to laie them vpon him selfe: which trulie was the last refuge that coulde be deuised, to withdrawe men from sinne. And therefore as it hath bene at all times accompted a verie great wickednes to offende almightie God, so now after that he hath taken such a shape vpon him to destroye sinne, it is not onelye a great wickednes, but also a verie great ingratitude and horrible crueltie to offende him with anie deadlye sinne.

If thou wilt continewe in the contemplatiō of this pointe, (besides that thou mayst learne hereby to abhorre sinne) thou mayst also take great cowrage to put thy whole trust and affyance in almightie God, by consideringe this verie dolefull forme of our sauiour Christ, the which as it is of great sorce, to moue the hartes of men, euen so hath it no lesse force, but rather farre greater, to moue the harte of almightie God. And therefore thou must thinke, that what dolefull forme our Sauiour toke at that tyme vpon him, in the sight of the furious people, the verie same he presenteth now before the diuine eyes, of his most pittiefull and mercifull louinge father, so freshe, and in such bleadinge wise, as it was that verie same daie. Now what image and forme can there be of greater efficacie to pacifie the eies of the heauenlie father, than the pale, and wanne countenance (so pittiefullie disfigured) of his onelie begotten sonne. This is the golden propiciatorie: this is the rainbowe of diuers colours, placed emonge the clowdes of heauen, with the sight whereof almightie God is pacified. With this, were his eies fed, with this, was his iustice satisfied, here was his honor restored. Here was such seruice done vnto him, as was answerable, and seemlie vnto his diuine maiestie.

Tell me now then, ô thou weake, and mistrustfull man, if the shape, and forme, of our sauiour Christ, was such at that tyme, that it was able, as the Iudge verelie beleued to mitigate the cruell eies of such ennemies, how much more able is it to pacifie the eies of the most mercifull heauenlie father? espetiallie consideringe that whatsoeuer our sauiour there suffered, was for his honor, and vnder his obedience. Compare then eies, with eies: person, with person: and thou shalt see, how much thou art more assured of the mercie of the heauenlye father, by presentinge vnto him this dolefull forme of our Sauiour Christ, than Pilate was of the mercie of the Iewes, when he showed our Sauiour thus pittiefully disfigured vnto them. Wherefore, in all thy praiers and temptations, take this Lorde for thy sheilde, and buckeler: set him betweene thee, and almightie God: and presente him before his diuine maiestie, sayenge: ECCE HOMO: Beholde the man: I haue here (o almightie God) the man, whom thou hast so manie yeares sowght for, to be a meane betwene thee, and sinners. I haue here the man, whose iustice is such, that it answereth thy godnes in euerie poynte. I haue here the man, who is so much punnished, as our sinnes and offences required. Wherefore o most mercifull louinge Lorde, looke mercifully vpon vs, I most humblie beseach thee. And that thou mayst so doe, fixe thyne eies vpon the face of thy Christ. And thou (o our sweete Sauiour, and mediator) cease not to presente thy selfe before the eies of thy father for vs. And forsomuch as thy loue towardes vs was so great, that thou wouldest offer vp thy bodie to the tormentors to be tormented for our sakes: vouchsaffe (o Lorde) with the same loue, to present it vnto the heauenlie father, beseachinge him, that it maie please him, for thy sake, to pardon vs all our sinnes, and offences.

How Ovr Saviovr Caried the Crosse Vpon His Shovlders. Christo Ig ••• Ur Pas • a in Carna

NOW when Pilate sawe that all those extreme punnishementes that had bene so cruelly executed vpon that most innocent lambe, were not able to asswage the furie of his ennemies, he entered forthwith into the iudgemēt hall, and sat him downe in his tribunall seate, to geue finall sentence in that cause. The Crosse was in the meane tyme prepared, and made redie at the gate, and that dreadfull banner was hoysed vp on highe in the aier, whiche threatened the terror of a most cruell death to our Sauiour. Now when that sentence was geuen, and published, althowghe it was of it selfe both vniust, and cruell, yet did his ennemies adde an other further crueltie vnto it. to wit: they laid vpon those tender shoulders, that were so pittiefullie rent, and torne, with vnmercifull whippes, and scourges, the heauie tree of the crosse. All which notwithstandinge, our most mercifull Lorde, and sauiour, refused not to carrie that heauie burthen, (where vpon were laied all our sinnes,) but embraced the same with an vnspekeable great charitie, and obedience, for the verie loue he bare vnto vs. And so went on his waie, as an other true Isaac,⁹ with the crosse on his shoulders, to the place of his sacrifice. The cariadge was deuided betwene two. The sonne caried the woode, and the bodie, that shoulde be sacrificed:¹⁰ and the father caried the fier, and the knife, wherewith the sacrifice shoulde be made. For truelie it was the fier of loue, which he bare towardes mankynde, and the sharpe knyfe of the diuine iustice, that put the sonne of God vpon the crosse. These two vertues contended together within the heauenlie fathers breste, each one demaundinge his right. Loue requested him to pardon mankinde, and iustice required that sinners might be punnished. Wherevpon, to the ende that men might be pardoned, and sinne punnished, a mean was founde, that an innocent (to witt the sonne of God) shoulde die for all mankynde. This was the fier, and knife, that the Patriarke Abraham caried in his handes, to sacrifice his sonne. For it was the loue of our saluation, and the zeale of iustice, that cause the heauenlie father, to offer his owne most deerlie beloued sonne to the crosse.

Now goeth the sweete innocent Iesus forwardes on his waie, with that so heauie dolorous burthen vpon his weake, and torne shoulders, great multitudes of people folowinge after him, and manie a pittiefull, and sorowfull womā accompanienge him with grieuous teares, and lamentations. What stonie harte had bene able to abstaine from most bitter weepinge, beholdinge the kinge of angells, to goe thus faintlie, with such a great, and weightie burthen: his knees tremblinge vnder him: his bodie crowchinge vnder the crosse: his modest eies, and face, all blouddye: with that dolorous garlande of thorne vpon his heade: and besides all this, annoyed with those most shamefull opprobrious exclamations, and outcries, which they gaue out in the waye against him?

But now in the meane tyme (o my soule) withdrawe thyne eies a little while from this cruell sight,¹¹ and hye thee with quicke speede, with heauines of harte, and greate store of teares trickelinge downe by thy checkes, towardes the howse of the blessed virgine Marie. And when thou art come thither, cast thy selfe downe at her feete, and speake these wordes in most dolefull, and lamentable wise vnto her. O Ladye of angells, and Quene of heauen? O gate of paradice, and aduocate of the worlde? O refuge of sinners, and health of the iust? O ioye of the Sainctes, and teacher of vertues? O mirrour of cleannes? O patterne of patience, and example of all perfection? Woe is me (O blessed ladie) woe is me, why am I preserued aliue, to see this present howre? How can I liue, hauinge now seene with myne eies, that dolefull sight, which I haue seene? What neede more wordes? Alas deere virgine, and most blessed mother: I haue left thy onely begotten sonne, my sweete Lorde and Sauiour in the cruell handes of his malitious ennemies, with a crosse vpon his shoulders, where vpon he shalbe crucified.

Now what vnderstandinge is able to comprehende how deepely these sorowfull newes pearced the most tender harte of that most blessed virgin? Here her sowle beganne to waxe fainte. Her face, and all the partes of her vnspotted maydenlie bodie were couered all ouer with a deadlie sweate, which might haue sufficed to ende her life, sauinge that by diuine dispensation, she was reserued for greater angwishes: and so consequentlie for a greater crowne, and rewarde, in the kingdome of heauen.

Now the holie virgin walkethe towardes her sweete sonne, and the great desire she hath to see him, restoreth vnto her againe the force, and strengthe, which sorrowe, and greife, had taken awaie. She hearethe a farre of the classhinge of armour, the trowpes of the people, and those most shamefull exclamations, and outcries, which in most dispitefull wise were thundered by his outragious cruell enemies against him. And incontinentlie she seethe the glisteringe speares, and halbardes, which were holden vp a loft. She fyndethe in the waye, the droppes and traces of bloude, whereby she might easelie tracke him, which waie he had gone, and she needeth none other gwide to conducte her vnto him. She approcheth nearer, and nearer, vnto her deerlie beloued sonne, she openeth her eies, which were verie sore dymmed with sorowfull weapinge, to proue whether she might see him, whom her soule so exceadinglie loued. O what a strange combatte was there now of feare, and loue, in the dolorous harte of the most blessed virgin Marie? In one respecte she had a desiere to see him, and in an other, she was vnwillinge to see him thus miserablie and most cruelly disfigured. At the lengthe, when she was come where she might see him indeede: then those two lightes of heauen, doe beholde one an other, and theire hartes embrace sweetly together by meanes of theire eies. How beit the sight of one an other in this dolefull wise was a verie great corsie to bothe theire afflicted soules. Theire tongues were dōme, so that neither of them both for a while spake one worde, but the naturall affection of that most sweete sonne, spake priuely to the heauie hart of the most blessed virgin, and saied vnto her. Why commest thou hither my doue, my beloued, and my deere mother? Thy sorowe increaseth myne, and thy tormentes do augment my paines, and be a great torment vnto me: Departe my deere mother, departe I beseach thee, and retourn home againe to thy howse. For it is not seemelie for thy virginall shamefastnes, and puretie, to be here in the companie of murderers, and theeues. And if it woulde please thee so to doe, it woulde certeinly asswage both thy sorrowe, and myne. And I will remaine here to be sacrificed for the worlde. For this office apperteineth not to thee, but vnto me, and thy innocencie deserueth not this torment.¹² Retourne therefore my doue to the arcke, vntill such time as the waters of the floude doe cease: forsomuch as here thou shalt finde no place, where thou mayst rest thy feete. There mayst thou attende to thy accustomed diuout praier, and contemplation. And there, by liftinge vp thy soule in godlie meditations aboue thy selfe, thou shalt passe ouer more easely this thy dolefull sorowe and greiffe.

Now this beinge saide, the sorowfull heauie harte of the holie mother made answere to her sonne, and saied vnto him. Why doest thou commaunde me to doe thus my deere sonne? Why wouldest thou haue me to depart awaie from this place? Thou knowest (o my Lord God) that in thy presence each thinge is lawfull vnto me, and that there is non other Oratorie but where thou arte. How can I then departe awaie from thee, vnles I shoulde departe from my selfe? This griefe and sorrowe so possesseth my harte, that trewlie I can not thinke vpon anie other thinge. I can goe no whither without thee; neither can I seeke, or receaue comfort of any other, but of thee. Vpon thee, is fixed all my whole harte. Within thee, haue I made my habitation. And my life whollie dependeth of thee. Seinge therefore thou hast vowchesaffed for the space of nine monethes to inhabite within my bowels, and to take my bodie for thy dwellinge place, why maye not I for these three daies, take thy bowels for my habitation? If thou wilt thus receaue me within thee, when thou art crucified, then shall I be crucified with thee: and when thou arte buried, then shall I be buried also together with thee. With thee woulde I drinke of the gaule, and vineger. With thee woulde I suffer vpon the crosse. And with thee woulde I yeelde vp my ghost.

Such wordes as these spake the blessed virgin in her dolefull harte as she went: And after this sort, she passed ouer that painfull and ircksome waie, vntill she came to the place of the Sacrifice.

Footnotes

1. The causes why out sauiour woulde suffer so manyfolde paynes, and iniuries, for our redemption. ↩

2. Our synnes were the onelie cause of all our sauiours paynes. ↩

3. 2. Pa[…]l. 29.
   ↩

4. Our sauiours paynes are our treasures, and riches. ↩

5. Geness. ↩

6. who so loueth Christ taketh greefe and compassiō of his bitter paynes and sorowes. ↩

7. Heb. 6. The wycked Christians doe as it were crucifie Christ againe, by theire euill and synnefull workes. ↩

8. How abhominable a thinge synne is, in the sighte of God. ↩

9. Genes. 22. ↩

10. These two vertues, loue, and iustice, did put the sonne of God vpon the crosse ↩

11. The sorowfull tydinges hereof, to the blessed virgin Marie. ↩

12. Genes. 8. ↩