Discourse IX — On the Sorrows of Mary

Mary was the Queen of Martyrs, because her martyrdom was the longest and the greatest of that of all the martyrs.

Who could ever have a heart so hard as not to be moved to tenderness upon hearing the case, all too lamentable, that once occurred in the world? There was a noble and holy mother who had but a single son; and he was the most lovable that can be imagined — innocent, virtuous, beautiful, and most loving toward his mother, so much so that he had never caused her the slightest displeasure, but had always shown her every respect, every obedience, and every affection. Hence this mother had placed in this son all her love on earth. Now what happened? It happened that this son, out of envy, was falsely accused by his enemies, and the judge — although he himself had recognized and confessed the son's innocence — nevertheless, so as not to displease the enemies, condemned him to an infamous death, precisely the death they had demanded. And this poor mother had to suffer the sorrow of seeing that lovable and beloved son taken from her so unjustly in the flower of his youth by a barbarous death; for they made him die, drained of blood, by force of torments, before her eyes, in public, upon an infamous gibbet.

Devout souls, what do you say? Is this case worthy of compassion, and is this mother worthy of pity? You already understand of whom I speak. This son, so cruelly executed, was our loving Redeemer Jesus, and this mother was the Blessed Virgin Mary, who for our love consented to see him sacrificed to divine justice by the barbarity of men. This great sorrow, then, endured by Mary for us — a sorrow that cost her more than a thousand deaths — deserves from us compassion and gratitude. And if we can render nothing else for so great a love, let us at least pause today to consider the bitterness of this sorrow by which Mary became the Queen of Martyrs; for her great martyrdom surpassed in grief that of all the martyrs, it being: first, the longest martyrdom; and second, the greatest martyrdom.

Point I

Just as Jesus is called the King of Sorrows and the King of Martyrs — because he suffered in his life more than all other martyrs — so also Mary is justly called the Queen of Martyrs, having merited this title by suffering a martyrdom the greatest that can be endured after that of her Son. Hence she was rightly called by Richard of St. Lawrence Martyr martyrum. And of her may be said what Isaiah said: Coronans coronabit te tribulatione (ch. XXII, 18) — that the crown by which she was declared Queen of Martyrs was her very sorrow, which utterly desolated her and surpassed the suffering of all other martyrs united together. That Mary was a true martyr cannot be doubted, as the Carthusian, Pelbartus, Catarino, and others prove; for it is an undoubted teaching that it suffices for martyrdom that there be a pain sufficient to cause death, even though death does not actually follow. St. John the Evangelist is venerated as a martyr, although in the cauldron of boiling oil he did not die, but came out more vigorous than he went in: vegetior exiverit, quam intraverit. It suffices for the glory of martyrdom, says St. Thomas, that one obey by offering oneself even unto death: Martyrium amplectitur id quod in obedientia summum esse potest, ut scilicet aliquis sit obediens usque ad mortem. Mary was a martyr, says St. Bernard, not by the sword of the executioner, but by the bitter sorrow of her heart: non ferro carnificis, sed acerbo dolore cordis. If her body was not wounded by the hand of the executioner, her blessed heart was pierced through by the grief of her Son's Passion — grief that was in itself sufficient to give her not one but a thousand deaths. And from this we shall see that Mary was not only a true martyr, but that her martyrdom surpassed all others, since it was a longer martyrdom; and so to speak, her entire life was one long death.

Just as the Passion of Jesus began from his birth — A nativitatis exordio, says St. Bernard, passio crucis simul exorta — so also Mary, in all things like her Son, suffered her martyrdom throughout her entire life. The name of Mary, among the other meanings it bears, signifies, as Blessed Albert the Great asserts, mare amarum — a bitter sea. Hence there is applied to her the passage of Jeremiah: Magna est enim velut mare contritio tua (Lam. II, 13). Yes, for just as the sea is all bitter and salt, so was the life of Mary always full of bitterness at the sight of the Passion of the Redeemer, which was always present before her. It cannot be doubted that she, enlightened by the Holy Spirit more than all the prophets, understood better than all the prophets the predictions of the Messiah that they had recorded in the Sacred Scriptures. So indeed the angel said to St. Bridget: Procul dubio est credendum, quod ipsa ex inspiratione Spiritus Sancti perfectius intellexit quidquid prophetarum eloquia figurabant. Hence, as the same angel declared, the Virgin — understanding how much the Incarnate Word was to suffer for the salvation of men — even before being made his Mother, already compassionating this innocent Savior who was to be executed by a death so atrocious for crimes not his own, began to suffer her great martyrdom: Ex Scripturis Deum incarnari intelligens, et quod tam diversis poenis deberet cruciari, tribulationem non modicam sustinuit.

This sorrow then grew beyond measure when she was made the Mother of this Savior. So that, at the grievous sight of all the sufferings the poor Son was to endure, she indeed suffered a long martyrdom — a martyrdom continued throughout her entire life. Tu longum, Abbot Rupert says to her, praescia futurae Passionis Filii tui, pertulisti martyrium. And this was precisely what was signified by the vision St. Bridget had in Rome in the church of Santa Maria Maggiore, where the Blessed Virgin appeared to her with St. Simeon and an angel carrying a very long sword all reddened with blood, signifying the bitter and prolonged sorrow that pierced Mary throughout her whole life. Hence the above-named Rupert thus makes Mary speak: Redeemed souls and my beloved daughters, do not only have compassion for me in that hour when I saw my dear Jesus die before me; for the sword of sorrow foretold me by Simeon pierced my soul throughout my entire life. While I nursed my Son, while I warmed him in my arms, I already foresaw the bitter death that awaited him — consider what a long and harsh sorrow I had to endure. Nolite solum attendere horam illam qua dilectum meum vidi mori; nam Simeonis gladius, antequam pertransiret, longum per me transitum fecit. Cum igitur eum lactarem, foverem, et prospicerem eius mortem, quam prolixam me putatis pertulisse passionem?

Hence Mary, through the words of David, could well say: Defecit in dolore vita mea, et anni mei in gemitibus (Ps. XXX, 11). Et dolor meus in conspectu meo semper (Ps. XXXVII, 18): My life was spent entirely in sorrow and tears, for my grief — which was compassion for my beloved Son — never departed from before my eyes, as I always saw all the sufferings and the death that he would one day endure. The divine Mother herself revealed to St. Bridget that even after the death and ascension of her Son to heaven, the memory of the Passion — whether she ate or worked — was always fixed and fresh in her tender heart: Tempore quo post Ascensionem Filii mei vixi, Passio sua in corde meo fixa erat, ut sive comedebam, sive laborabam, quasi recens erat in memoria mea. Hence Tauler wrote that Mary spent her entire life in a perpetual sorrow, for nothing but sadness and suffering filled her heart: Beatissima Virgo pro tota vita fecit professionem doloris.

So the passage of time, which usually mitigates sorrow for the afflicted, was of no help to Mary; rather, time increased her anguish. For as Jesus grew, he showed himself on the one hand ever more beautiful and lovable, while on the other the time of his death drew ever nearer, and the grief in Mary's heart over having to lose him on this earth ever increased. As the rose grows among thorns, the angel said to St. Bridget, so the Mother of God advanced in years amid sufferings; and just as the thorns grow with the rose, so this chosen rose of the Lord, Mary, the more she grew in age, the more the thorns of her sorrows increased to torment her: Sicut rosa crescere solet inter spinas, ita B. Virgo in hoc mundo crevit inter tribulationes: et sicut, crescente rosa, crescunt spinae, sic haec electissima rosa Maria quanto crescebat aetate, tanto tribulationum spinis pungebatur. Having thus considered the length of this sorrow, let us pass to the second point, to see how great it was.

Point II

Ah, not only was Mary the Queen of Martyrs because her martyrdom was the longest of all, but also because it was of all the greatest. But who can ever measure its magnitude? Jeremiah seems unable to find anyone to whom he might compare this mother of sorrows, considering the greatness of her grief at the death of her Son: Cui comparabo te? he says, vel cui assimilabo te, filia Ierusalem?... Magna est enim velut mare contritio tua. Quis medebitur tui? (Lam. II, 13). Hence, commenting on the aforesaid words, Hugh Cardinal said: O blessed Virgin, just as the bitterness of the sea surpasses all other bitterness, so your sorrow surpasses all other sorrows: Quemadmodum mare est in amaritudine excellens, ita tuae contritioni nulla calamitas aequari potest. St. Anselm then asserted that if God had not by a singular miracle preserved Mary's life, her sorrow would have been sufficient to cause her death at every moment she lived: Utique, Domina, non crediderim te potuisse stimulos tanti cruciatus quin vitam amitteres sustinere; nisi ipse Spiritus tui Filii te confortaret. And St. Bernardine of Siena went so far as to say that the sorrow of Mary was so great that if it were divided among all people, it would suffice to make them all die instantly: Tantus fuit dolor Virginis, quod si inter omnes creaturas, quae dolorem pati possunt, divideretur, omnes subito interirent.

But let us consider the reasons why the martyrdom of Mary was greater than that of all the martyrs. In the first place, let us reflect that the martyrs suffered their martyrdom in the body, by means of fire or iron; Mary suffered her martyrdom in the soul, as St. Simeon had already foretold to her: Et tuam ipsius animam doloris gladius pertransibit (Lk. 2). As if the holy old man had said: O most holy Virgin, the other martyrs will be torn by iron in the body, but you will be pierced and martyrized in the soul by the Passion of your own Son. Now, as the soul is more noble than the body, so much the greater was the sorrow of Mary than that of all the martyrs, as Jesus Christ himself said to St. Catherine of Siena: Inter dolorem animae et corporis nulla est comparatio.

Hence the holy abbot Arnold of Chartres says that whoever had been present on Calvary to witness the great sacrifice of the immaculate Lamb when he died on the cross would have seen there two great altars — one in the body of Jesus, the other in the heart of Mary — where at the same time that the Son sacrificed his body in death, Mary sacrificed her soul in compassion: Nimirum in tabernaculo illo duo videres altaria, aliud in pectore Matris, aliud in corpore Christi: Christus carnem, Maria immolabat animam.

Moreover, says St. Antoninus, the other martyrs suffered by sacrificing their own lives, but the Blessed Virgin suffered by sacrificing the life of her Son, whom she loved far more than her own life. So that she not only suffered in her spirit all that the Son suffered in his body, but the sight of the Son's sufferings caused greater sorrow to her heart than if she had endured all those sufferings in her own person. That Mary suffered in her heart all the torments by which she saw her beloved Jesus tormented cannot be doubted. Everyone understands that the sufferings of children are sufferings also for their mothers, when they are present to see them suffer. St. Augustine, considering the torment endured by the mother of the Maccabees in the tortures she saw her sons undergo, says: Illa videndo in omnibus passa est; quia amabat omnes, ferebat in oculis quod in carne omnes. So it was also with Mary: all those torments — the scourges, the thorns, the nails, the cross — that afflicted the innocent flesh of Jesus, entered at the same time into the heart of Mary to complete her martyrdom. Ille carne, illa corde passa est, wrote St. Amadeus. So that, says St. Lawrence Justinian, the heart of Mary became as a mirror of the Son's sufferings, in which were seen the spittings, the blows, the wounds, and all that Jesus endured: Passionis Christi speculum effectum erat cor Virginis; in illo agnoscebantur sputa, convicia, verbera, vulnera. And St. Bonaventure reflects that those wounds which were scattered over the whole body of Jesus were all united in the one heart of Mary: Singula vulnera per eius corpus dispersa, in uno corde sunt unita.

So the Virgin, through compassion for her Son, was in her loving heart scourged, crowned with thorns, despised, and nailed to the cross. Hence the same saint, contemplating Mary on Mount Calvary while she assisted her dying Son, asks her: My Lady, tell me, where were you then? Only at the foot of the cross, perhaps? No, I shall say better: you were on the very cross, crucified together with your Son: O Domina mea, ubi stabas? Numquid tantum iuxta crucem? Imo in cruce cum Filio crucifixa eras.

And Richard, on the words of the Redeemer spoken through Isaiah — Torcular calcavi solus, et de gentibus non est vir mecum (Is. LXIII, 3) — adds: Verum est, Domine, quod non est vir tecum, sed mulier una est tecum, quae omnia vulnera quae tu suscepisti in corpore, suscepit in corde: Lord, you are right to say that in the work of human Redemption you are alone in suffering, and that no man at least compassionates you enough; but you have a woman who is your Mother, and whatever you suffer in the body she suffers in the heart.

But all this says too little of the sorrows of Mary; for she, as I have said, suffered more in seeing her beloved Jesus suffer than if she had herself endured all the torments and the death of her Son. Erasmus already wrote, speaking generally of parents, that they feel the sufferings of their children more keenly than any pain of their own: Parentes atrocius torquentur in liberis, quam in seipsis. But this may not always be true. In Mary it was certainly true, since she loved her Son and his life immeasurably more than herself and a thousand of her own lives. Hence St. Amadeus well attests that the afflicted Mother, at the grievous sight of the sufferings of her beloved Jesus, suffered far more than if she herself had endured his entire Passion: Maria torquebatur magis quam si torqueretur in se: quia super se incomparabiliter diligebat id unde dolebat. The reason is clear, for as St. Bernard says: Anima magis est ubi amat quam ubi animat. And before him the Savior himself said that our heart is where the good we love is found: Ubi thesaurus vester est, ibi et cor vestrum erit (Lk. XII, 34). If then Mary, by reason of love, lived more in her Son than in herself, she must have suffered far greater sorrow in the death of her Son than if the most cruel death in the world had been inflicted on her.

And here enters another reflection that made the martyrdom of Mary immensely greater than the torment of all the martyrs: for in the Passion of Jesus she suffered much and suffered without relief. The martyrs suffered in the torments inflicted on them by tyrants, but their love of Jesus made their sufferings sweet and lovable. St. Vincent suffered in his martyrdom; he was tortured on the rack, torn by hooks, burned by red-hot plates; but what happened? says St. Augustine: Alius videbatur pati, alius loqui. He spoke with such courage to the tyrant and such contempt for the torments that it seemed one Vincent was suffering and another Vincent speaking — so much did his God with the sweetness of his love comfort him amid those sufferings. St. Boniface suffered; his body was torn by iron, sharp reeds were driven under his fingernails, molten lead was poured into his mouth — and yet all the while he never tired of saying: Gratias tibi ago, Domine Iesu Christe. Sts. Mark and Marcellian suffered, bound to a post with their feet pierced by nails; and when the tyrant said to them: "Wretches, come to your senses and free yourselves from these torments," they replied: "What torments do you speak of? What torments? Never have we feasted more joyfully than in this time, when we suffer gladly for the love of Jesus Christ: Numquam tam iucunde epulati sumus, quam cum haec libenter Iesu Christi amore perferimus." St. Lawrence suffered; but while he was burning on the gridiron, the interior flame of love was more powerful to console his soul, says St. Leo, than the exterior fire to torment his body: Segnior fuit ignis qui foris ussit, quam qui intus accendit. Hence love made him so bold that he taunted the tyrant, saying: Assatum est iam, versa et manduca: Tyrant, if you wish to feed on my flesh, one side is already done; turn it and eat! But how, in such torments, in such a slow death, could the saint so rejoice? Ah, it was because — as St. Augustine replies — inebriated with the wine of divine love, he felt neither torments nor death: In illa longa morte, in illis tormentis, illo calice ebrius tormenta non sentit.

So the holy martyrs, the more they loved Jesus, the less they felt their torments and death; and the mere sight of the sufferings of a crucified God was enough to console them. But was our sorrowful Mother likewise consoled by her love for her Son and by the sight of his sufferings? No; on the contrary, the very Son who suffered was the entire cause of her sorrow, and the love she bore him was the one and all too harsh executioner; for Mary's entire martyrdom consisted in nothing other than seeing and compassionating the innocent and beloved Son who suffered so greatly. Hence the more she loved him, the more bitter and devoid of relief was her sorrow. Magna est velut mare contritio tua: quis medebitur tui? Ah, Queen of Heaven, for the other martyrs love mitigated their pain and healed their wounds; but for you, who ever softened your great anguish? Who ever healed the all-too-painful wounds of your heart? Quis medebitur tui? — when that very Son, who alone could have given you relief, was by his suffering the sole cause of your sorrow, and the love you bore him composed your entire martyrdom? Indeed, as Diez reflects, the other martyrs are each depicted with the instrument of their passion — St. Paul with the sword, St. Andrew with the cross, St. Lawrence with the gridiron — but Mary is depicted with her dead Son in her arms, because none other than Jesus himself was the instrument of her martyrdom, by reason of the love she bore him. In a few words St. Bernard confirms all that I have said: In aliis martyribus magnitudo amoris dolorem lenivit passionis; sed B. Virgo quanto plus amavit, tanto plus doluit, tantoque ipsius martyrium gravius fuit.

It is certain that the more one loves a thing, the more one feels the pain of losing it. The death of a brother certainly afflicts more than the death of a beast; the death of a son more than that of a friend. Now Cornelius a Lapide says that to comprehend how great was the sorrow of Mary at the death of her Son, one would need to comprehend how great was the love she bore him: Ut scias quantus fuerit dolor B. Virginis, cogita quantus fuerit amor. But who can ever measure this love? Blessed Amadeus says that in the heart of Mary both loves for her Jesus were conjoined — the supernatural love by which she loved him as her God, and the natural love by which she loved him as her son: Duae dilectiones in unum connexae erant, et ex duobus amoribus factus est amor unus, cum Virgo Filio divinitatis amorem impenderet, et in Deo amorem nato exhiberet. So that of these two loves there was made a single one, but one so immense that William of Paris went so far as to say that the Blessed Virgin loved Jesus quantum capere potuit puri hominis modus — to the utmost capacity that a pure creature could attain. Unde, says Richard of St. Lawrence, sicut non fuit amor sicut amor eius, ita non fuit dolor sicut dolor eius. And if the love of Mary for her Son was immense, immense too must have been her grief in losing him by death: Ubi summus amor, says Blessed Albert the Great, ibi summus dolor.

Let us then imagine that the divine Mother, standing in sight of her Son dying on the cross, justly applying to herself the words of Jeremiah, says to us: O vos omnes qui transitis per viam, attendite, et videte si est dolor sicut dolor meus (Lam. I, 12): O you who pass through life on this earth and do not pity me at all — pause a moment to look at me now that I see my beloved Son die before my eyes; and then see whether among all the afflicted and tormented there can be found a sorrow like mine. Yes indeed, there cannot be found, O sorrowful Mother — St. Bonaventure answers her — a sorrow more bitter than yours, since there cannot be found a son dearer than yours: Nullus dolor amarior, quia nulla proles carior. Ah, there has never been in the world, adds St. Lawrence Justinian, a son more lovable than Jesus, nor a mother more loving of a son than Mary. If, then, there has been no love in the world like the love of Mary, how can there be found a sorrow like the sorrow of Mary? Non fuit talis filius, non fuit talis mater: non fuit tanta caritas, non fuit dolor tantus. Ideo quanto dilexit tenerius, tanto vulnerata est profundius.

Hence St. Ildephonsus did not hesitate to assert that it is saying too little to say that the sorrows of the Virgin surpassed all the torments of the martyrs even taken together: Parum est Mariam in Passione Filii tam acerbos pertulisse dolores, ut omnium martyrum collective tormenta superaret. And St. Anselm added that the most cruel tortures inflicted on the holy martyrs were light — indeed nothing — in comparison with the martyrdom of Mary: Quidquid crudelitatis inflictum est corporibus martyrum, leve fuit aut potius nihil comparatione tuae passionis. And likewise St. Basil wrote that just as the sun surpasses in splendor all the other planets, so Mary, by her suffering, surpassed the sufferings of all other martyrs: Virgo universos martyres tantum excedit, quantum sol reliqua astra. A learned author concludes with a beautiful sentiment: he says that the sorrow this tender Mother suffered in the Passion of Jesus was so great that she alone could worthily compassionate the death of a God made man.

But here, turning to this blessed Virgin, St. Bonaventure says to her: My Lady, why did you wish to go yourself to be sacrificed on Calvary? Was not a crucified God enough to redeem us, without your being crucified too, his Mother? O Domina, cur ivisti immolari pro nobis? Non sufficiebat Filii Passio, nisi crucifigeretur et mater? Ah, the death of Jesus was indeed more than sufficient to save the world and even infinite worlds; but this good Mother wished, out of the love she bears us, that through the merits of her sorrows, which she offered for us on Calvary, she too might contribute to the cause of our salvation. And therefore Blessed Albert the Great says that just as we are indebted to Jesus for his Passion suffered for our love, so also we are indebted to Mary for the martyrdom she willingly endured in the death of her Son for our salvation: Sicut totus mundus obligatur Deo propter Passionem, sic obligatur Dominae propter compassionem. I said willingly, because, as the angel revealed to St. Bridget, this compassionate and kind Mother of ours was content to suffer every pain rather than see souls unredeemed and left in their ancient perdition: Sic pia et misericors est et fuit, quod maluit omnes tribulationes sufferre, quam quod animae non redimerentur. It may be said that this was Mary's only relief amid her great sorrow of the Passion of her Son: to see, through his death, the lost world redeemed and men, his enemies, reconciled with God: Laetabatur dolens, quod offerebatur sacrificium in redemptionem omnium, quo placabatur iratus.

So great a love of Mary deserves our gratitude; and let that gratitude at least take the form of meditating upon and compassionating her sorrows. But of this she complained to St. Bridget: that very few compassionated her, the greater part living forgetful of her; and therefore she so earnestly urged the saint to remember her sorrows: Respicio ad omnes qui in mundo sunt, si forte sint aliqui qui compatiantur mihi et recogitent dolorem meum, et valde paucos invenio. Ideo, filia mea, licet a multis oblita sim, tu tamen non obliviscaris mei; vide dolorem meum, et imitare quantum potes et dole. To understand how much the Virgin values our remembrance of her sorrows, it would suffice to know that in the year 1239 she appeared to seven of her devoted servants — who later became the founders of the religious Order of the Servants of Mary — holding in her hand a black garment, and she commanded them that if they wished to please her they should often meditate on her sorrows; and for this reason she wished that from then on they should wear that mournful habit in memory of them. And Jesus Christ himself revealed to Blessed Veronica of Binasco that he takes almost greater pleasure in seeing his Mother compassionated than himself; for thus he said to her: "Daughter, the tears shed over my Passion are dear to me; but since I love my Mother Mary with an immense love, the meditation on the sorrows she endured at my death is dearer to me still."

For this reason, the graces promised by Jesus to those devoted to the sorrows of Mary are exceedingly great. Pelbartus relates that it was revealed to St. Elizabeth that St. John the Evangelist, after the Blessed Virgin was assumed into heaven, desired to see her again; he was granted the grace, and his dear Mother appeared to him, and with her Jesus Christ also appeared. He then heard Mary ask her Son for some special grace for those devoted to her sorrows, and Jesus promised her for them four principal graces: first, that whoever invokes the divine Mother on account of her sorrows will, before death, merit to make true repentance for all his sins; second, that he will protect such devout souls in their tribulations, especially at the time of death; third, that he will impress upon them the memory of his Passion and will afterward give them the reward in heaven; fourth, that he will place such devout souls in the hands of Mary, so that she may dispose of them as she pleases and obtain for them whatever graces she wills. In confirmation of this, let us see in the following example how much devotion to the sorrows of Mary avails for eternal salvation.

Example

We learn from the Revelations of St. Bridget (Bk. 6, ch. 97) that there was a lord as noble by birth as he was vile and wicked in his ways. He had given himself by an express pact as a slave to the devil and had served him for sixty continuous years, leading the life that anyone can imagine, always far from the sacraments. Now this prince came to be dying, and Jesus Christ, wishing to show him mercy, commanded St. Bridget to tell her confessor to go and visit him and exhort him to confess. The confessor went, and the man replied that he had no need of confession, since he had confessed often. The confessor went a second time, and that poor slave of hell persisted obstinately in refusing to confess. Jesus again told the saint to send the confessor. He returned, and on this third visit he told him of the revelation made to the saint, and that he had returned so many times because the Lord had so commanded, wishing to show him mercy. Upon hearing this, the wretched sick man was moved and began to weep. "But how," he then exclaimed, "can I be pardoned — I who for sixty years have served the devil, made myself his slave, and loaded my soul with innumerable sins?" "My son," replied the Father, encouraging him, "do not doubt: if you repent, I promise you pardon on God's behalf." Then he, beginning to take confidence, said to the confessor: "Father, I considered myself damned and had despaired of salvation; but now I feel such sorrow for my sins that it gives me courage to trust; and so, since God has not yet abandoned me, I wish to confess." And indeed on that very day he confessed four times with great sorrow; the following day he received Holy Communion; and on the sixth day, wholly contrite and resigned, he died. After his death, Jesus Christ again spoke to St. Bridget and told her that the sinner was saved and was already in purgatory; and that he had been saved through the intercession of the Virgin his Mother — for the deceased, although he had led so perverse a life, had nonetheless always preserved his devotion to her sorrows; whenever he recalled her sorrows, he had compassion on her.

Prayer

O my sorrowful Mother, Queen of Martyrs and of sorrows, you wept so much for your Son who died for my salvation; but what will your tears avail me if I am damned? Through the merits, then, of your sorrows, obtain for me a true sorrow for my sins and a true amendment of life, together with a perpetual and tender compassion for the Passion of Jesus and for your own sorrows. And if Jesus and you, being so innocent, suffered so much for me, obtain for me — who am guilty of hell — that I may suffer something for your love. O Domina — I will say to you with St. Bonaventure — si te offendi, pro iustitia cor meum vulnera; si tibi servivi, nunc pro mercede peto vulnera. Opprobriosum est videre Dominum meum Iesum vulneratum, te convulneratam, et me illaesum.

Finally, O my Mother, by the anguish you felt in seeing your Son bow his head amid so many sufferings and breathe his last upon the cross, I beg you to obtain for me a good death. Do not fail then, O advocate of sinners, to assist my afflicted and embattled soul in that great passage it must make to eternity. And since at that moment I shall easily have lost the power of speech and the voice to invoke your name and that of Jesus — who are all my hopes — I therefore now invoke your Son and you to help me in that last moment, and I say: Jesus and Mary, to you I commend my soul. Amen.