Sattvrdaie Morninge

THIS daie(after thou hast made the signe of the Crosse, and prepared thy selfe herevnto:) thou hast to meditate vpon the pearcinge of our Sauiours syde with a speare. Of his takinge downe from the Crosse. And withall of the pittiefull bewaylinge, and lamentation of our blessed Ladie. And of our Sauiours buriall.

Christogram I H S

Factus est omnibus obtemperantibus sibi causa salutis aeternae. Hebr. 5.9.

Meditations Vpon These Poyntes of the Text

HETHERTO (ô my soule) thou hast celebrated the death and grieuous paines of the sonne: It is now tyme for thee to beginne to celebrate, and bewaile the grieuous sorrowes of the mother. Wherefore sit downe a while at the feete of the prophet Ieremie,¹ and takinge the wordes out of his mowthe, and sighinge deeplie with a bitter, and sorrowfull harte, saie thus vnto her. How happeneth it (ô most innocent virgin) that thou arte now alone? How is it (ô ladie of the worlde) that thou arte become a widowe? What? haue they set so sore a penaltie vpon thee, without hauinge committed anie offence at all? O most holie virgin, I woulde gladly comfort thee, and I knowe not how? I woulde gladly ease some parte of thy great greifes, and anguishes, and I knowe not which waie? O Quene of heauen, if the cause of thy sorrowes, were the sorrowes of thy blessed sonne, and not thine owne, (for that thou diddest loue him more then thy selfe,) his sorrowes are now ended, forsomuch as his bodie suffereth no more, and his soule is now altogether glorious. Cease therefore (I beseach thee) the multitude of thy sorrowfull sighes, and bewailinges, seinge the cause of thy sorowe is alreadie ceased, and gonne. When he wepte, thou diddest weepe also: reason it is therefore, that thou shouldest reioyce with him, now that he reioyceth.² Shut vp the springes of thy most pure eies, more cleare than the waters of Esebon, and now sore troubled, and dymmed with the showers of so manie teares.³ The wrath and anger of almightie God, is now pacified with the sacrifice of the true Noe. Cease therefore the floude of thy most holie eies, and let the earthe be cleared agayne with new brightnes.

The doue is now departed out of the arke, and when she retourneth, she will bringe with her signes of the mercie, and clemencie of almightie God. Reioyce therefore ô blessed virgin, and comforte thy selfe with this hope, and cease now I praie thee, these thy mournefull sobbinges and sighes. Thy owne deerelie beloued sonne him selfe putteth thy dolefull mourninge, and teares, to sylence, and inuiteth thee to a newe ioye in his Canticles: sayeinge:⁴ The winter is now past, the showers and tempesteous stormes are ceased, the flowers do appeare in our lande. Rise vp therefore my welbeloued, my darlinge, and my turtle done, that abidest in the holes of the rocke, and in the cleiftes of the walle. That is to saie, in the strookes and woundes of my bodie. Leaue now this habitation, and come and dwell with me.

I see well ô blessed Ladie, that none of all these thinges are able to comforte thee: because thy sorrowe, and greife is not hereby taken awaie, but onely changed. One martirdome I see is ended, and an other now beginneth. The tormentes of thy harte are renewed continuallie, and thowgh some goe awaie, yet others do succede with newe kindes of tormentes: that by such changes, the torment of the Passion maie be dowbled vnto thee. Hetherto thou hast lamented his paines, and sorrowes: now thou lamentest his death. Hetherto thou hast lamented his passion: now thou lamentest thyne owne solitarines. Hetherto thou hast lamented his greifes, and troubles: and now thou mournest for his absence. One waue is past, and an other commeth on to ouerwhelme thee. So that the ende of his paine, is a beginninge of thyne.

And as though this thy paine were to litle, I see that these cruell tormentors prepare yet an other paine for thee, no lesse then this, Close vp thine eies therefore ô blessed Ladie: close them vp out of hande I beseach thee: and loke not vpon that longe terrible speare, which goeth with greate violence in the aier, to strike the place wherevnto it is leuelled, Now hast thou ô holie virgin thy desire fulfilled. For now arte thou become a buckler to thy sonne, forsomuch as this blowe striketh not him, but thee. Thou diddest desire the nailes, and thornes, and they were ordeyned for his bodie: but the pearcinge speare was reserued for thee. O yee cruell ministers? O yee hartes of iron? Were the paines, and tormentes to litle (trowe yee) which his bodie suffered beinge aliue; that yee woulde not pardon it euen after it was dead? What furie and rancor of enmitie is there so outragious, but that it is pacified when it seeth his enemie dead before him? Lifte vp your cruell eies a litle ô you vnmercifull and cruell ministers, and beholde our sauiour? Beholde I saie his deadlie face, his dymme eies, his fallinge countenance, his pale and wanne colour, and shadow of death. For though you be more harde, than either iron, or the Adamante stone: yea though ye be more hard, than your owne selues, yet it maie be, that in beholdinge him, your furie and malice wilbe appeased. Wherefore are ye not contented with the woundes yee haue geuen to the sonne, but that ye will wounde his blessed mother also? Her ye doe wounde with that speare: vnto her ye geue the strooke: and against her sorowfull hart threateneth the sharpe poynt of that cruell lawnce.

Now commeth the wicked minister with a longe sharpe speare in his hande, and pearceth the verie naked syde of our sauiour with great furie. The crosse shaked in the aier with the mightie force of the strooke: and from thence issued water, and bloude, wherewith are wasshed the sinnes of the worlde. O riuer that ronnest out of paradise, and waterest with thy streames all the face of the earthe! O wounde of the pretious syde of my sweete Sauiour, made rather with his feruent loue towardes mankinde, than with the sharpe iron of the cruell speare! O gate of heauen! ô windowe of paradise! ô place of refuge! ô tower of strength! ô sanctuarie of iust persons: ô sepulchre of pilgrimes! ô neist of cleane doues! ô florishinge bed of the spouse of Salomon! Alhaile ô wounde of the pretious syde of our Sauiour, that woundest the hartes of deuout persons? O strooke that strikest the soules of the iust? O rose of inspekeable bewtie? O rubie of inestimable price! O entrance into the harte of my sweete Sauiour Iesus Christ! O witnes of his loue, and pledge of euerlastinge life! Throwghe thee doe all liuinge thinges enter into the Arcke of the true Noë, to be preserued from the floude. Vnto thee doe all such as are tempted repair: In thee doe all those that are heauie, and sad finde comforte:⁵ by thee are the sicke persons cured: throwgh thee doe sinners enter into heauen: and in thee doe all banished persones, and pilgrimes, sleepe sweetelie, and take theire rest. O furnace of loue? O howse of peace? O treasure of the Catholicke Church? O veyne of liuely water, that springest vp euen vnto life euerlastinge. Open ô most louinge Lorde, I beseache thee, this gate vnto me: receaue my harte into this most delitefull habitation: geue me passadge through the same vnto the tender bowells of thy loue: let me drinke of this sweite fountaine: let me be wasshed with this holie water: let me be made dronke with this most pretious licour. Let my soule sleepe in this sacred breste. Here let it forget all the cares of the worlde: here let it sleepe: here let it eate: here let it singe sweitly with the Prophet: sayeinge:⁶ This is my resting place for euer, and euer: here will I dwell: for this place haue I chosen for my habitation.

HOW OVR SAVIOVR CHRIST WAS TAKEN DOWNE from the Crosse: and of the pittiefull lamentation and…

AFTER this, consider how the holie bodie of our Sauiour was taken downe from the crosse: and how the blessed virgin receaued it in her armes.

Now the verie same daie in the eueninge, there came those two holie men, Ioseph, and Nicodemus, who reared vp theire ladders vnto the crosse, and tooke downe the blessed bodie of our Sauiour into theire armes. The holie virgin then perceiuinge that the torment of the crosse was now ended, and that the sacred bodie of our Sauiour was comminge towardes the earthe, she settethe her selfe in a readines to geue him a secure hauen in her lappe, and to receyue him from the armes of the crosse, into her owne armes. And so she wryngeth her handes verie pittiefullie, and requesteth of those noble men with great humilitie, and instancie, that forsomuch as she had taken no leaue of her deerelie beloued sonne, nor receaued those last embracinges of him vpon the crosse at the tyme of his departure, they woulde now suffer her to come vnto him, and not encrase her discomforte on euerie syde. She beseacheth them, that they woulde not deale so straitly with her, as the enemies had done, takinge her sweete sonne from her beinge now dead, as the enemies did, whiles he was yet aliue. O blessed Ladie, how voide of comforte arre thou on euerie syde? For if they denie thee thy request, thou wilt be sore discomforted: and if they graunte thee thy petition (accordinge to thy earnest desire) yet shall thy discomfort be neuer a whit diminished. Thy miseries haue no comfort at all, but onely in thy patience. If thou goe about on the one side to diminishe thy sorrowe, on the other side it increaseth dowble. Now ye holie men, what will yee doe in this case? What is your best aduice, and counsell, in this matter? To geue a flat deniall vnto such lamentable teares, and to so blessed a Ladie, in so iust and reasonable a request, were certainlie an vnseemlie acte: and to graunt her the thinge she demaundeth, were to ende her life. You are afrayd on the one syde to discomfort her: and on th'other syde you feare also least perhappes you shoulde be murderers of the mother, as the enemies were of the sonne. In conclusion the pittiefull earnestnes of the holie virgin ouercōmeth them, and those noble men thought best, that consideringe her great dolefull bewailinge, and lamentation, it shoulde be a greater crueltie to take her owne deare sonne frō her, than to bereiue her of her life. And so they were enforced to graunte her request.

Now when the blessed virgin had by her pittiefull intercession gotten the bodie of her deare sonne into her armes, what tonge is able to expresse the greate inwarde anguishe and sorrowe which then she felte? O ye angells of peace, weepe with this holie virgin. O ye heauens, lament with her. O ye sterres of heauen, and all creatures of the worlde, accompanie the blessed virgin Marie in her great heauines and dolefull lamētation. The blessed mother embraceth the torne, and rent bodie of her sweete sonne. She huggeth, and clippeth him fast to her brest, (her strengthe seruinge her to this thinge onely:) She putteth downe her face betwene the thornes of his sacred head. She ioyneth countenāce with countenance. The face of the mother is embrued with the bloude of the sonne: and the face of the sonne is bathed with the teares of the mother. O sweete mother, is this happly thy sweete sonne? Is this he, whom thou conceauedst with so great glorie, and broughtest fourthe with so great ioye? Where are now thy former ioyes become? Whither is thy wonted gladnes gone? Where is now that mirrour of beawtie, wherein thou diddest so often times beholde thy selfe? Now thou takest no pleasure to beholde him in the face, because his eies haue lost their light? Now it auayleth thee not to speake, and talke with him, because his eares haue lost their hearinge? Now that tonge moueth not, which was wont to vtter the wordes of heauen. Now are those eies dimmed, which were wont with theire sighte to reioyce the whole worlde. How is it, that thou speakest not now (ô Quene of heauen?) How happeneth it, that verie sorrowe, and heauines, hath thus tyed vp thy tōge? Trew it is, that the tonge of the blessed virgin was as it were domme for a tyme: but her harte might secretly with inward greife speake vnto her sweete, and dearelie beloued sonne, and saie vnto him.

The Pittiefvll Lamentation of the Blessed Virgin Marie

O life dead, ô light obscured, ô bewtie defyled.⁷ What blouddie handes were those, that haue so disfigured thy diuine shape? What crowne is this, that my handes do feele vpon thy head? What wounde is this, that I see in thy syde? O highe preist of the worlde? What dolefull markes, and signes, are these, that my eies doe see in thy bodie? Who hath bespotted the cleare glasse, and bewtie of heauen? Who hath disfigured the face of all graces? Are these the eies, that were wont to dymme the sonne with theire bewtie? Are these the handes, that raised vp the dead, whom they towched? Is this the mowthe, out of which the fower Riuers of paradice issued? Haue the handes of men such power against God? O my sweete sonne, and bloude of my bodie, from whence arose this terrible tempest? What raginge storme hath this bene, that hath so bereued thee from me? O my deere sonne, what shall I doe now without thee? Whither shall I goe? Who shalbe able to helpe me? Manie fathers, and brothers, when they were afflicted, came to entreat thee for theire children, and brethen that were dead, and thou with thy infinit vertue, and clemencie, diddest comforte, and helpe them: But I (alas,) that see myne owne deere sonne, my father, my brother, and my Lorde, here dead before me, to whom shall I make sure for him? Who shall comfort me? Where is the good Iesus of Nazareth, the sonne of almightie God, which cōforteth the liuinge, and restoreth life vnto the dead? Where is that great Prophet, so mightie both in wordes and worckes.

O my sweete sonne, which heretofore hast bene my comfort, and rest, but now a verie sharpe knyfe to my sorowfull and heauie harte. What hast thou done, why the Iewes shoulde thus crucifie thee on the crosse? What cause had they to put thee to so cruell and shamefull a death? Is this the thankes for so manie good workes, as thou hast wrought emonge them? Is this the rewarde, that is giuen vnto vertue? Is this the recompence, for such diuine doctrine? Hath the wickednes of the worlde extended it selfe so farre? Hath the malice of the deuill bene so furiouslie bent? Hath the goodnes, and clemencie of almightie God yealded so farre forthe? Is the horror, and hatred, which almightie God beareth against synne so passinge great? What? was so great a satisfaction requisite, to satisfie for the synne of one? Is the rigour of godes iustice so streit? Doth almightie God make so great accompt of the saluation of men?

O my sweete sonne, what shall I doe with out thee? Thou arte my sonne, my father, my spouse, my maister, and all my companie? I am now become, as it were an Orphan without a father: a widowe without a husbande: I am now alone, and depriued of such a maister, and of such a sweete companion. Now shall I not see thee anie more to enter in at my gates, wearied with the discources, and preachinge of the gospell. Now shall I no more wype of the sweate from thy face, which was so oftentymes sonneburned, and tyred with painfull trauels, and Iourneis. Now shall I see thee no more sittinge, and eatinge at my table, and ministringe foode to my soule with thy diuine presence. Now Alas, this glorie is finished: this daye is this ioye ended, and my solitarines beginneth presently.

O My deare sonne, why speakest thou not vnto me? O tonge of heauen, that hast comforted so manie with thy wordes, and geuen speache, and life, to so manie persons: who hath put thee to such a great silence, that thou speakest not to thy louinge mother? How is it, that thou hast not at the least left me some legacie, wherewithall I might comfort my selfe? Well, I will take it by thy licence. This Royall crowne shalbe my legacie. Of these nayles, and of this speare will I be thy heyre. These so pretious Iewells will I kepe alwaies in my harte. There shall thy nailes be knocked in. There shall thy crowne, thy scourges, and thy crosse, be kepte, and preserued. This is the inheritance which I haue chosen to enioye all the daies of my life.

O how litle while doe the ioyes of the earthe endure? And how soore doth that greife smarte, which commethe after muche prosperitie? O Bethelem, ô Ierusalem, how farre doe these daies differ from those, which I haue had in you? What a cleare night was that, and what an obscure daie is this? What a great ioye, and riches and I then: and what a greate greife and penurie haue I now? The losse of so great a treasure, can not be litle. O blessed Angell, where are now those great praises of thy olde salutation? It was not in vayne, that I was in such a great trouble, and feare, at that tyme. For after great praises, there must needes followe, either some great faulle, or some greate crosse, and tribulation. Our Lorde will not haue his giftes to be in vaine, Idle, and without exercise. He neuer geueth honor without charge: nor superioritie without seruitude: nor great abondance of grace, but to make vs able to suffer great trouble, and persecution. Then thou diddest calle me, Full of grace: ⁸ and now am I full of sorrowe. Then thou diddest calle me, Blessed emonge all women: and now am I the most afflicted of all women. Then thou diddest saie, our Lorde is with thee: now he is also with me, howbeit not aliue, but dead, as I now holde him here in myne armes.

O my sweete redeemer and sauiour, was it anie offence in me, to holde thee in my armes, with so great ioye, when thou wast but newely borne, that I shoulde now come to holde thee in them so soore tormented? Was it anie faulte in me, to take so great pleasure in geuinge thee the sweete milke of my brestes, that now thou shouldest geue me to drinke of such a bitter cuppe? Was it anie fault in me, to beholde my selfe in thy face, as in a bright glasse: that thou hast thus ordeined that I shoulde now see thee thus cruellie rente, and tormented? Was it anie offence in me to loue thee so entierly, that thou shouldest now cause my loue to become my tormentor? And that I shoulde now suffer so much the greater greife, be how much I loued thee more entierlie?

O heauenly father, ô louer of men, which art mercifull towardes them, and rigorous towardes thyne onelie and deerlie beloued sonne. Thou knowest how great the waues, and tempesteous sourges are, which lye beatinge at this presente against my dolefull harte. Thou knowest that this harte of myne hath abidden so manie deathes, as there haue bene whippes, and strookes, geauen vnto this holie bodie of thy sweete sonne. Howbeit, althoughe I be the most afflicted of all creatures, yet doe I geue thee infinite thankes for this greate sorrowe, and greife, that I sustaine. It is a sufficient comfort vnto me, to vnderstande that it is thy blessed will that it shoulde so be. Anie thinge that commeth from thy handes I must needes take in good worth, thoughe it were a sharpe knyfe, and woulde thrust it euen into my bowells. I geue thee most humble, and hartie thankes, both for my prosperitie, and aduersitie: and as well and euen in as equall wise for the one, as for the other. And for the vse, and commoditie of thy benefittes, which I haue hitherto enioyed, I blesse thee: And I am nothinge discontented, that thou doest now take them awaye from me. I mislyke not of that, but I doe rather restore to thee the thinge againe, that was committed to my custodie, and doe yeelde vnto thee most humble and hartie thankes. Both for the one, and the other, the angelles blesse thee, and with them my teares also blesse thee for euermore. Howbeit I beseach thee ô my most louinge and mercifull father (if it maye stande with thy blessed will, and pleasure) that the martirdome which I haue alreadie suffered for these thirtie and three yeares maie content thee.⁹ Thou knowest ô Lorde, that from the daie, that holie Simeon signefied this martirdome vnto me, all my pleasures haue bene mingled with bitter gaule. And from that tyme hitherto, I haue had that sorrowfull daie euer lyenge ouerth-warte my heauye harte. In the middest of my Ioyes, I haue bene alwaies assaulted with the remembrance of this dolorous sorrowe: and I neuer had anie Ioye so pure, but that it was myngled with the terrible sorrowes, and feares of this daie. I knowe well, that all this was directed by thy diuine prouidence, and that it was thy blessed will, that from that tyme I shoulde haue knowledge of this misterie, to the ende, that as the sonne caried the crosse euermore before his eies, (euen from the verie daie of his conception:) so shoulde his mother carie it also.¹⁰ For thy will, and pleasure is, that those that be thyne shoulde alwaies suffer, and be afflicted in this transitorie life: And thou wilt not that our ioyes shoulde be great or perpetuall in this vale of teares, though they be such as we take in thee.

Wherefore ô my kinge, vouchsaffe now I beseach thee, if it maie so stande with thy blessed will, that this maie be the verie last of my martirdomes: if not, thy holie will be fulfilled both in this, and in all other thinges. If thou thinke one martirdome be to litle for a poore seelie woman, thou knowest verie well ô Lorde, that I haue bene so oftentimes a Martir, as there haue bene woundes, and strookes, geuen to the most blessed bodie of my sauiour. His martirdomes are now al ended, but myne in beholdinge him thus cruellie tormented doe beginne a freshe. Commaunde deathe to retourne againe, to take the spoyle, which he hath left behinde him: and let him carie the mother also with the sonne to the graue. O happie sepulchre, that succiedest me in myne office. The crowne that they take from me, they geue vnto thee, forsomuch as thou enclosest him within thee, whom I haue had enclosed in my bowelles. My verie bones woulde reioyce, if they might see them selues laied vp there, and certainly there shoulde my life be laied also. My harte, and my soule, will I burie there, (for that maie I doe) but as for my bodie, burie thou it there also (ô Lorde) I beseeche thee, for that I maie not doe without thee. O death, why arte thou so cruell, as to seperate me from him, in whose life my whole life consisteth? Thou arte sometimes more cruel in pardoninge, thā in killinge. Suerly thou haddest shewed thy selfe verie pittiefull towardes me, if thou haddest taken vs both together: But now alas, thou hast bene cruell in killinge the sonne, but farre more cruell in sparinge the mother.

Such wordes as these, woulde the blessed virgin speake priuelie in her harte: and the like might those holie Maries, that accōpanied her speake also. All that were present wepte very tenderly with her. Those holie Matrones wepte: those noble Gentilmen wepte: heauen and earthe wepte: Yea all creatures accompanied the teares of the blessed virgin Marie.

The holie Euangelist also wepte verie lamentablie,¹¹ and embracinge the blessed bodie of his maister, sayd: O my good Lorde, and maister, who shall be my teacher from henceforthe? To whom shall I resorte to be resolued in my dowtes? Vpon whose brest shall I rest my selfe? Who shall imparte to me the secretes of heauen? O what a straenge chaunge, and alteration is this? The last eueninge thou sufferedst me to rest vpon thy holie brest, and gauest me the Ioyes of life: and now doe I recompence that great benefit, with holdinge thee dead on my brest. Is this the face, which I sawe transfigured vpon the mownte Thabor? Is this that figure, wich was more cleare, than the sonne at noone daie?

Lykewise that holie sinner, Marie Magdalen wepte full bitterlie also,¹² and embracinge the feete of our Sauiour said: O light of myne eies, and redeemer of my soule: if I shall see my selfe ouercharged with sinnes, who shall receaue me? Who shall cure my woundes? Who shall answere for me? Who shall defende me agaynste the Pharisees? O how farre otherwise helde I these feete, and washed them, whē thou receauedst me, lyinge prostrate at them? O my sweete hart roote, and most entierly beloued, who coulde bringe to passe, that I might now die with thee? O life of my soule, how can I saie, that I loue thee, seinge I see thee here dead before myne eies, and yet doe remaine aliue?

After the like maner did all that holie companie weepe, and lamente,¹³ wateringe and wasshinge his holie bodie with there teares. Now when the hower of his buriall was come, they wynde his holie bodie in a cleane lynnen clothe: They bynde his face with a napkin: And layinge his bodie vpon a beere, doe carie it to the place of his buriall, and there they laye in that most pretious treasure. The sepulchre was couered with a stone: and the harte of the blessed mother with a darke clowde of heauines, and sorowe. There is she once agayne bereued of her sonne. There beginneth she a freshe to lamente her solitarines. There she seeth her selfe dispossessed of all her treasure. And there her harte remainethe buried, where her treasure was left.

A DECLARATION, WHY THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARIE, AND all iust persones, are afflicted in this present…

O Heauenly father, sith of thy infinit goodnes, and mercie, thou wouldest that thy blessed sonne shoulde thus suffer for our synnes: why wouldest thou that this holie virgin his blessed mother shoulde suffer also, who neither deserued death for the sinnes of others (forsomuche as thy sonnes death suffised for thē:) neither yet for her owne, seinge she neuer committed anie maner of synne in all her whole life? How easelie might this her tribulation haue bene tempered, if at that time she had bene forthe of the cittie of Ierusalem, where if she had bene absent, she shoulde not haue seene with her eies the cruell death of her onelie and dearlie beloued sonne, neither haue so greatelie augmented her sorrowe, and griefe, with the sighte of the present obiecte, and with beholdinge him sufferinge his so manifolde, and cruell tormentes vpon the crosse. O wonderfull dispensation, and counsell of almightie God! Thy will was ô Lorde, that the blessed virgin shoulde suffer, not for the redemption of the worlde, but because there is nothinge in the worlde more acceptable vnto thee, than to suffer for the loue of thee. Emonge all thinges created there is nothinge more pretious than in heauen the glorious loue of the blessed Sainctes,¹⁴ and in earthe the troubled and afflicted loue of iust persons. I meane: than the loue of iust persons, that is tried with aduersitie, affliction, and tribulation. In the howse of almightie God, there is no greater honor, than to suffer for the loue of God. Emonge all the good workes, and seruices, that our Sauiour did vnto thee in this worlde, this was that which thou hast appoynted, and accepted, for the most cheefe, and principal worke, to be the meane of our reparatiō ād redēption. This was the iewel, and pretious stone, that emonge all the riches of vertues, which that riche marchant laide before thee, liked thee best: for the which thou gauest vnto him whatsoeuer he demaunded, which was the redemption of the worlde. Now then, if this iewell be of so great valewe, and estimation, in the sighte of almightie God, it were not meete, that such a riche piece, as this is, shoulde be wantinge in our blessed Ladie, who was of all perfect women, the most perfecte, and most acceptable in the sight of almightie God.

Moreouer,¹⁵ there is no worke in this worlde that maketh a more manifest, and perfect[…] shewe of true vertue, than to suffer for the loue of God. For the proufe, and tryall of true loue is to haue true patience for the beloued. And there is no triall, and proufe, so farre from all suspition, as this is, And like as almightie God him selfe did neuer discouer the greatnes of his loue vnto men so clearelie, and perfectly, (thoughe his other benefittes which he bestowed vpon thē were verie great) vntill he came to suffer for thē: euen so shall they neuer discouer their loue towardes him fully, and perfectly, (be there other seruices they doe vnto him neuer so manie, and great,) vntill they come to suffer tribulations for his sake.¹⁶ Tribulation (as S. Paule saith) is the occasion, and matter of patience: And patience is the proufe, and triall of true vertue. And this proufe geueth vs a hope of glorie. For this cause therefore, a man ought alwayes to suspecte all vertue, and holines, which he perceaueth in him selfe, vntill it be tryed and prooued with the testimonie of tribulation. For as the Wise man saith: The vessels of claye are tried in the furnace: but the hartes of the iust, in the furnace of tribulation.

Almightie God in all the workes of nature hath not made anie one thinge that shoulde be idle, or in vaine: muche lesse woulde he, that in the workes of grace, his giftes shoulde be idle, and in vaine, And therefore he deuideth to euerie one of his electe, the burthen, and charge, which he must beare, accordinge to the forces, and talente of the grace, he hath receaued. So that here in this short transitorie life, it is not to be esteemed for the greater loue, and frendship, if almightie God doe geue vs greater pleasure and ease: but rather, if he geue vs greater tribulation, and aduersitie. Thow shalt geue vs ô Lorde, ¹⁷ (saieth the Prophet) to drinke teares by measure. And the measure is this, that he that is most ād greatest in thy grace, and fauour, is commōly most afflicted, and troubled in this transitorie life. When Moyses made that peace and accorde, betwene almightie God, and his people, the holie scripture sayth, that he sprinckeled all the people with an Isope dipped in bloude, and this beinge done, the rest of the bloude that remained, he sprinckeled vpon the aulter. Wherefore let all those, that determine to be the friendes of almightie God vnderstande hereby, that theire loue,¹⁸ and friendship with him, must be celebrated, and dedicated with bloude: and not onelie with the bloude of Christ, but euen also with the proper bloude of euerie one: to wit: with patience, and sufferinge of troubles, and aduersities. Our Sauiour Christ at that last supper which he made with his disciples, dranke first him selfe of the Cuppe, but after he had drōcke him selfe thereof, he gaue the remnant vnto his ghestes, which he had inuited, and cō maunded them, to deuide the same emonge them, and that euerie one of them shoulde also drinke his drawght of that cuppe. So that it apperteineth to all persons to haue theire parte of this cuppe:¹⁹ and it is also requisite, that they all, as members of Christ, doe conforme them selues with our sauiour Christ in sufferinge. Howbeit herein standeth the difference, that as concerninge the common sorte of people, and those, that are Imperfecte, it is sufficient if they be sprinckled with bloude: but those deuout godlie persons, that are more nearly approched, and ioyned vnto almightie God, and be such, as are worthie to be called his aulters, these must not onelie be sprinckeled with bloude, but they must also be dyed,²⁰ and bathed in bloude: forsomuche as to the stronge are reserued the strongest battells, and so consequentlie a greater rewarde and a greater crowne in the kingdome of heauen.

Our sauiour Christ, and his blessed mother, were the two persons, that of all others in this worlde, were most entierly beloued of almightie God. Now these two, as they farre passed, and excelled all creatures in vertue: so did they likewise in sufferinge. And vndowtedlie there were neuer in the worlde two better persons, nor more tossed, and turmoyled with aduersities, afflictions, and tribulations, than these two were.

Be of good comfort therefore all ye Catholickes that are in tribulation, assuringe your selues, that the more troubles, afflictions, emprisonmentes, and crosses you susteine, the more like you are vnto our Sauiour Christ, and his holie mother. Be of good cōfort, all ye Catholikes that are troubled. For you are not therefore the more forsaken of almightie God, but rather (if you haue patience in your troubles,) you are certainlie the more in his grace, and fauour, and more singulerlie, and dearlie, beloued of him. Be of good comfort, againe, and againe, I saie,²¹ all ye Catholickes that are afflicted, and troubled: For there is no sacrifice more acceptable vnto almightie God, than a troubled and afflicted harte: neither is there anie signe more certaine of his loue, and friendshippe, then patience in tribulation. Let no man therefore sclaunder tribulation, for that were to sclaunder our sauiour Christe, and his blessed mother: yea it were to bringe a sclaunder vpon almightie God him selfe, who alwaies sendeth tribulations and afflictions to his friendes.

What thinge is tribulation, but onely a crosse? And therefore what other thinge is it, to defame tribulation,²² but to defame the crosse? Againe what is it els to flie from tribulation, but to flie from the crosse? Now if we worshippe the dead Crosse, which is the figure of the Crosse, why flie we than from the liuelie crosse, which is, to suffer by the crosse of tribulation? This is to Imitate, and followe the Iewes, of whom our sauiour sayth,²³ that when they had persecuted the Prophettes, they made for them afterwardes verie great, and sumptuouse sepulchers: honoringe them after they were dead, and persecutinge them, whilest they were aliue. And euen so it siemeth that those wicked Christians doe likewise in a sorte imitate them, which on the one side doe worshippe the dead Crosse, and on the other side doe denye, and spit at the liuelie Crosse: Which is the sufferinge by the crosse of tribulation.

And let no man be discomforted, and saie, that he suffereth for his synnes, or without synne: for howsoeuer thou suffer, all is finallye in effect to suffer vpon the crosse. For if thou suffer for thy synnes, (and doe hartelie repent them) thou sufferest vpon the crosse of the good theiffe: But if thou suffer without sinne, and without deserte, thou oughtest to take the more comfort thereof, because this is to suffer euen vpon our Sauiours owne Crosse.

Footnotes

1. Ierem. 1. ↩

2. Cantic. 7. ↩

3. Genes. 8. ↩

4. Cant. 2. ↩

5. Ioan. 4. ↩

6. Psalm. 131. ↩

7. Note, that the intention of the awthor is not to represent here exactly and precisely the affections of the blessed virgin: but onelie by expressinge her doleful griefes, to moue the readers to deuotion, and pietie. ↩

8. Luc. 1. ↩

9. Luc. 2. ↩

10. Our Lorde will haue them that be his seruātes, euer to suffer, and be afflicted in this life. ↩

11. The lamē tation of S. Iohn the Euangelist. ↩

12. The lamē tation of S. Marie Magdalene. ↩

13. The buriall of our Sauiours bodie in the sepulchre. ↩

14. Note that nothinge is more precious in earthe, thā the loue of God, tryed in iust persons with sufferinge affliction, and tribulation, for Gods sake. ↩

15. The most manifest, and perfect shewe, and proufe, of trewe vertue, is to suffer tribulatiōs for the loue of God. ↩

16. Rom. 5. Patience is the proufe of trewe vertue, if it be exercised it sufferinge for defence of a iust, and godlie cause: and not for herese, or other vniust causes. Eccles. 27. ↩

17. Psalm. 79. He that is greatest and most singular in the loue, and fauour of God, is comonlie most afflicted with tribulatiōs in this life. Exod. 24. ↩

18. Note, how our loue, and frendeship, with almightie God, must be celebrated, and dedicated with bloude. ↩

19. All Christians must drinke theire parte of Christes cuppe, and as mē bers of Christ conforme thē selues with Christ theire head in sufferinge. ↩

20. A notable comfort for all Catholickes that be persecuted by heretickes. There were neuer anie persons more tossed with aduersities, and tribulatiōs in this worlde: thā our sauiour Christ and his blessed mother. ↩

21. Psalm. 50. There is no signe more certayne of the loue, and fauor of God, than to haue patience in tribulatiō. ↩

22. To flie frō tribulatiō, is to flie from the crosse. ↩

23. Luc. 11. ↩