On the Lament of the Dove by St. Robert Bellarmine

St. Robert Bellarmine, was not only a great hammer of the Protestant revolutionaries, but one of the great spiritual authors of the Counter-Reformation. In the hitherto untranslated: On the Lament of the Dove, (De Gemitu Columbae) St. Robert sets out to make every member of the Church, from the humble housewife to men, clergy, religious and even bishops, aware of the need to weep for their sins, and rejoice with Christ and the saints. He lays out the foundations of penance in Scripture, and the explores the sources for tears in twelve chapters, covering the fall of the angels, the failures of clergy, the failures of laity, the pains of hell and the suffering in purgatory, then explores the fruits of meditating on these matters, the happiness of the faithful, the release of souls from purgatory, and the glory of God. St. Robert lays out his considerable learning but focuses it very simply, in commentating on liturgical hymns, scriptural exegesis, and the writings of the fathers and lives of the saints to adorn the work.

This is truly a book to save your soul, and can be read again and again in meditation. We provide here a sample chapter:

Chapter III

On the third font of tears, which is the consideration of the Passion of Christ

The third font of tears is the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ. But before we open this fountain and draw the tears from the fountain of the Savior, we must remove an obstacle which seems to hinder the opening of the fountain. For a doubt of this kind could perhaps come into someone’s mind, namely whether the Passion ought to be bewailed now, since it has passed away; not only has it passed, but has turned into the greatest glory. Compassion does not seem suitable any further for a past Passion: the Passion of Christ already transpired many ears ago; so why have compassion when it is not transpiring at the same time?

Certainly, when a woman is in travail, which example the Savior uses in John, she has sadness when her hour of pain has come; and if her relatives or friends are present, at the same time they have sadness, because they pity her who is suffering; but when she has brought forth the child, and the pain has passed, she herself rejoices, and her friends and neighbors also rejoice together with her. And the Church herself keeps this very thing in the sufferings of the Martyrs: while the Martyrs were suffering, the faithful who were present sympathized; but now, the martyrdom having been accomplished, the Church sings and says: “Let us rejoice in the Lord, celebrating the feast day in honor of the Martyr, in whose passion the Angels rejoice.” Finally, Pope Saint Leo says: “The most beloved and universally desirable feast of the Lord’s Passion is at hand for the world which does not allow us to remain silent amid the exultations of spiritual joys.” And a little further on: “But what among all the works of God, in which human admiration is wearied in intent, so occupies and surpasses the contemplation of the mind as the Passion of the Savior?”[1]

St. Leo, therefore, finds in the Lord’s passion festive joys, spiritual exultation, and the contemplation of the mind delighting the soul, not sadness and tears of a troubled conscience. But we shall easily remove this obstacle obstructing the fountain of tears, if we consider in the Lords’s passion that both joy and sorrow, as well as exultation and weeping are found. For the passion of the Lord can be considered in three ways: as it is in itself, as a cause, and as an effect. If the passion of the Lord were considered as it is in itself, and especially if it is represented as if it were present to the contemplative mind, it will without doubt cause the fountains of tears to spring even from a stony heart. If it is considered as the cause of the redemption of the human race, and as the key opening the kingdoms of heaven to believers, and as the triumph over the prince of this world, then it will truly stir up in the hearts of those who contemplate not sorrow and tears, but joy and exultation. Finally, if it is considered as the effect of our sins, again it will make sorrow and tears flow in abundance. What therefore was said at the beginning about compassion, that it does not last longer than the Passion, is true when the Passion is considered as past, and as the cause of glory. And since the passions of the Saints are recalled only as things past, inasmuch as they were the cause of their merits and of their triumph, therefore they are recalled with joy and exultation, not with sorrow and tears. But of Christ alone does the Church celebrate the sadness of the passion in the triddum before Easter; and the glory of his rising on the third day after Easter.

At the first time she considers the Passion in itself and as it were present; in the second time she considers it as the cause of the triumph, and also as truly past, for a Passion set before us as present cannot be joined with the Resurrection. Nor is the reasoning the same for Christ and for the holy Martyrs. For Christ did not merit for Himself alone the glory of exultation; He merited for us also redemption: and even now the Passion of Christ works as present in the Sacraments; therefore His Passion ought to be celebrated both as present and as past; but the Passion of the holy Martyrs produced for them alone their crowns. Thus speaks St Leo in Sermon 12 On Lord’s Passion: “The just have received, they have not given, their crowns; and the examples of the faithful are born of patience, not of the gifts of justice. There are therefore joys on each martyr’s feast; but a man by his death pays what is owed, since among the sons of men our Lord Jesus Christ alone has existed, in whom all were crucified, all died, all were buried, all have risen, all have been lifted up.” I another sermon St. Leo indicates that the Passion of the Lord is to be celebrated with exultation and that minds are to be delighted in its contemplation, he speaks of an exultation and delight which bring with them holy tears. St Bonaventure also, who everywhere exhorts men to pour forth tears while meditating on the Lord’s Passion, joins great joy with like tears; for thus he speaks in the Goad of Divine Love: “Fixing one’s gaze upon Christ crucified, one is watered most abundantly with the tears of devotion and compassion, and is most sweetly delighted with tears.”[2]

Passing over these, we shall briefly explain two points: one about pleading for the Passion of Christ when it is set before the mind of the one who meditates as though present; the other, about pleading likewise for the Passion of Christ when the effect of our sins is seriously considered.

And for the first point we have the example of the Seraphic Father St Francis, who, as St Bonaventure testifies in his Life, often withdrew into woods or other solitary places, most often by night, and there with loud cries bewailed the Lord’s Passion as though set before his eyes.[3] The same St Bonaventure, a little before the beginning of the second book of the Goad of Divine Love, teaches that we ought to do the same; and in the Meditations on the Life and Passion of Christ he writes this also, adding that for this task we should bring with us a great store of tears. And this very thing he commends to anyone who wishes further to contemplate or to treat of the Passion of Christ, whether by reading books or by using the written meditations he has left us. But if anyone would seek the reason for this matter, let him read and hear what follows.

We must seek the love of God before all other things, both because God requires this in His first and greatest commandment, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart,” and because the love of God is the queen of virtues; which when present we live for God, but when it departs, we die. It alone does not suffer mortal sin to be with it; it itself begets merits; it itself so joins us to God that we are one spirit with God. Finally, in it the perfection of the Christian life is placed. Moreover in this time love is kindled most of all by the consideration of benefits; and the highest benefit of God toward men is the Passion of Christ, as the Lord Himself says: “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only‑begotten Son;” (John 3:16) and as the Apostle attests, writing to the Romans: “But God commends His charity toward us, because when as yet we were sinners, Christ died for us.” (Rom. 5:8)

But how can it come about that from so singular a benefit of God we should conceive a strong and burning love of God, if we look upon the Lord’s Passion as a simple history of a past event, and gaze upon it as though it were another’s affair? Therefore it is necessary, if anyone wishes to find the treasure of the love of God in the field of the Lord’s Passion, that with the most attentive consideration he might perceive the Lord as though He were present: now in the garden agonizing, and sweating blood, sorrowful and heavy; and not tears only, but even a bloody sweat pouring from His whole body; now in the assembly of the priests and Pharisees, struck on the cheeks, and with spittle cast in His face, shamefully mocked; now bound and dragged with utmost indignity to Pilate, and from him sent to Herod, and again from Herod remitted to Pilate; but after He had been mocked, and clothed in a white garment for derision; now bound to the column, lashed with servile scourges; and a little after, with a crown of thorns, a purple robe, and a reed for a scepter, shown to the people as a pretender to the kingdom; now condemned to death, carrying His cross upon His shoulders, going forth with thieves as companions; now at last nailed to the cross, and with most bitter pain pouring forth blood from His hands and feet, and, with a loud cry and with tears, dying. And in each of these spectacles, let him not make a brief pause, but consider carefully Who it is that suffers, what the things are that He suffers, by whom He suffers them, and for what cause; and straightway the four fountains will be opened to him for drawing the waters of tears from the wounds of the Savior.

Now, besides these considerations, which everywhere are set forth by those who write books for the contemplation of the Lord’s Passion, there occurs to me that saying of the blessed Apostle Paul, which, in contemplating the divine mysteries, bids us consider length and breadth and height and depth (Eph. 3:18). In another of our little books[4] we explained, as far as we could, the kinds of these magnitudes as attributes of the divine essence. But since those words quite plainly designate the cross, it will not be a wonder if by these terms we understand four prerogatives by which Christ’s Passion surpasses all the passions of the Martyrs, and four principal virtues which shine wondrously in the Passion of Christ. Therefore the Passion of Christ was long, broad, high, and deep; and to its length, breadth, height, and depth no passion of the Martyrs could attain. For what is length in a passion but duration? and breadth but variety and amplitude? and height but eminence? and depth but profundity? Let us explain these one by one, and first let us speak of length.

Therefore Christ’s chief Passion, which can be called the punishment of the cross, lasted three hours, namely from the sixth hour until the ninth. And so Christ’s Passion was the longest: for it was not finished by a single blow, as happens to those who are punished by beheading; nor did it extend only a little longer, as usually happens to those who die by hanging, or by fire, or by drowning in water, or by the bites of wild animals, or by other customary punishments. But Christ’s Passion was placed not merely in the crucifixion; it began in the hour of Gethsemani, where first, from the immense distress and sadness of His heart, He sweated a most copious bloody sweat; and it lasted until the ninth hour of the following day. Therefore the Passion of Christ, without any interruption, comprised eighteen hours: namely, nine from the third hour of the night to the twelfth; and nine from the first hour of the day to the ninth. And not even in those nine night‑hours and nine day‑hours was Christ’s whole Passion completed; for His whole life, so to say, was a perpetual Passion. And the Passion of the cross could be said to have begun earlier. For from the very hour of His conception He knew that the cross was prepared for Him; and He most willingly accepted it, both for the honor of the Father and for the salvation of men; and He always had it before the eyes of His mind; so that it could truly be said, that His whole life He spent upon the cross. Hence He spoke so often either about the cross, or about His Passion; as in Matthew: “He who does not take up his cross and follow me, is not worthy of me” (Matt. 10:38); and again: “If anyone will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross” (Matt. 16:24); and again: “Can you drink the chalice which I am about to drink?” (Matt. 20:22); and in Luke: “Whoever does not carry his cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:27). Therefore, Christian soul, from this continual bearing the burden of the cross gather this: that thy Lord had no hour of rest, but was always occupied day and night in working for thy salvation. Can you think without tears that, having forgotten your salvation, you have often spent many hours in empty recreations and idle games, while the Lord was always laboring to procure thy salvation? But let us go on to the rest.

Not only was the passion of the Savior the longest, it was also broadest: for, not content with one or another kind of pains, it comprised an innumerable array of torments. Let us not omit the bonds with which He was most tightly bound; and the blows; and the buffets; and the spittings; and the scourge; and the thorns; and the curses; and the false testimonies; and the mockeries; and the jeerings and sportings, which cannot be counted in number. Consider only how many crosses your Lord endured within one cross. The first was the most bitter pain of the nails driven into His hands and feet. Next there followed the lifting of the cross on high, from which it came about that, by the weight of the whole body, the wounds, being widened shed rivers of the sacred blood, and more and more they toiled in holding the body up.

Thirdly, it is added the nakedness of a body drained of breath and of blood; in cold air, and with the sun strangely covered by an eclipse throughout that time, not sending forth its rays. Fourth comes to be counted: incredible exhaustion. Since from the end of the very late supper up to the hour of the crucifixion the Lord had made many journeys, and those very long, on foot, and without food. First, after supper, He set out to the garden of Gethsemani, situated outside the city on the Mount of Olives; then from that garden, bound with chains, He was led back into Jerusalem, as far as the house of Annas; thence to the house of Caiphas; afterward to Pilate’s praetorium, which was set rather far away; again from Pilate’s house to Herod’s house; and from Herod’s house again to Pilate’s; finally, burdened with the cross, outside the city to the mount of Calvary; all which journeys contain many miles.

O good Jesus, once, when seeking one single soul, wearied by the journey You sat upon a spring of water; but now, when seeking me together with the rest, wearied by a longer journey, and the cruelest scourging, and carrying of your own cross, You sat not upon a spring, but upon the wood, which could not lessen Your weariness but only increase it. And would it not be just that at least I should weary myself continual toil, or certainly I should labor in my lament, until I win back the fruit of Your weariness by true penance and by the gift of pardon. But the number of torments is not yet ended.

Fifth, therefore, is to be counted the thirst, which on the cross tormented the Lord most vehemently. For not without cause, after many torments had already preceded, the Lord complained of this one, saying, “I thirst.” For thirst without doubt vexed the Lord with burning heat, both from long weariness and from the most copious outpouring of blood. For they who pour out a great quantity of blood become so dried up that they experience no pain more grievous than thirst. But you, my soul, if you are wise, will not offer vinegar to the thirsty Lord, but tears of the heart, pressed forth from sorrow for sins and from love of the Bridegroom. For such is the water which the Lord thirsts for most vehemently.

Now the sixth punishment in the crucified Lord was the lack of the use of hands and feet, on account of which He was forced to remain motionless upon the wood of the cross, so that He could neither shift to ease His thirst, nor wipe away the blood, nor prevent any of its flow. How great this punishment is will seem lighter only to those who have not experienced it; for they who cannot move hand or foot, whether by paralysis, or by gout in the feet and in the hands, or by the constraint of bonds, cannot drive flies from their faces, nor brush away what annoys them.

The seventh torment came from the sight of the Virgin Mother and of the disciple whom He loved; whose grief and tears brought no small sorrow to the Lord. The eighth pain arose from the insulting words and blasphemies which the Pharisees and Scribes and priests hurled against Him; for this punishment is wont to be more grievous to honorable men than bodily punishments, since the latter torture the flesh, the former the soul. The last was the bitter death, which as the utmost of terrors our Lord willed to taste, that He might slay it in His own body and set us all free from its dominion. Since these things are so, no one can doubt that the Lord’s Passion, in its breadth, embraced within its bosom a great multitude of pains and torments.

But not greater than the length and breadth of the Lord’s cross is its height and depth. And to speak first of height: that passion may be called “high” which stands above other passions, so as to be greater, more intense, more bitter and more harsh than the rest. Now that the Lord’s Passion was of this sort can easily be understood from this, that the Passion was not unforeseen by the Lord, but had long before been foreseen and expected. For that saying, “Darts foreseen wound less,” is true of those darts which last a short time, or which in some part cannot altogether be avoided; not, however, of those darts which can be long and altogether avoided; such as the heavenly thunderbolts. Surely, if a man is struck by lightning unawares, he will feel less pain than he to whom it has been foretold that at such an hour he will perish by a lightning‑stroke, and who for that reason awaits the blow with great horror and fear. Therefore, since our Lord through the whole time of His life knew most certainly His cross and each torment and their bitterness, without doubt in this respect they had the highest degree of bitterness and vehemence. Next, there was added to the weight of the pains His most perfect health and the temperament of His body; for it had been formed and tempered by the Holy Spirit, through whose work it had been composed. Now the more delicate a temperament is, the more lively are all the senses; and by this they usually not only perceive greater pleasure from suitable objects, but also a keener pain from contrary objects. Finally there was added this, that Christ, the lover of men, that the redemption might be abundant, did not will that His strength and power for suffering should be so diminished little by little that none should remain at the end of his life; rather, even to the departure of the soul from the body He retained so much strength that even the pain itself might be felt whole and entire, even to the end. That this is true is witnessed by that great cry, whereby he gave up the ghost. For St. Luke speaks in this way: “And crying with a loud voice, Jesus said: Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit. And saying this, he gave up the ghost.” (Luke 23:46) Now the dying do not usually cry out; for gradually they lose their strength and their voice. But Christ, to show that He had power to die and not to die, and to die when He willed, and not to die when He willed not, breathed His last crying with a loud voice. And because the Centurion noticed this unusual thing, the Evangelist says: “Seeing that he so crying out had expired, he said: Truly this man was the Son of God.” (Mark 15:39)

Therefore O Lord Jesus, Your work was perfect, and You offered to God the Father Your fat and marrowy sacrifice since even to the end You willed to drain the chalice of the Passion with unimpaired senses and strength, so that no part of bitterness should be lacking. Would that we His servants also, with so great an example set before us, might so discharge the works that pertain to Thy honor and to the salvation of souls, as perfectly to complete them; or at least, when we do imperfectly, to bewail them with copious tears, that what was lacking in our work might be supplied by penance, and the defect of devotion might be compensated by humility.

There remains the depth of the Passion: which can be placed in this, that the Passion of Christ was full and whole, and unmixed with any consolation. It is rare here on earth for consolation to be found that is not mixed with desolation, and sorrow unmixed with solace. But the Lord’s Passion was pure; and therefore deep and whole. In adversity one great consolation is usually the presence of friends; but at the very beginning of the Passion Christ was deserted by His disciples and household. For thus it is written: “Then all his disciples, leaving him, fled.” (Matt. 26:56) One of them was a traitor: he found Him and betrayed Him; another denied with an oath that he knew Him; and when He was falsely accused before many, out of such a crowd of disciples and friends there was found no one who dared to speak a word in His defense. And therefore the Prophet complains most justly, saying: “I looked about, and there was none to help; I sought, and there was none to give aid.” (Isa. 63:5) Indeed, an Angel of the Lord did appear to Him in the garden, strengthening Him (Luke 22:43); but that appearance of the Angel was done before the Passion, so that He might bravely approach it. But in the Passion itself He had no comforter, nor any helper at all. And so, in very truth, He Himself on the cross cried out: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Matt. 27:46) For when did the Father forsake Him, except when He Himself asked: was He then not forsaken? But by this very forsaking is signified that the Son was forsaken by the Father; not as to union of the divine nature, but as to consolation of the senses. In that sense alone the Father forsook the Son in that He allowed Him to suffer intolerable pains without any consolation. But the Lord willed at that time to express this, lest He be thought to bear those punishments without feeling of pain. For those who stood by had seen Him endure all things with such evenness of soul and peace, that He did not utter even a groan or a sigh. Therefore, that we might understand that He truly suffered, and suffered most bitterly, He sent forth that voice full of pain and of wonder. As if He wished to say: Can it be done, O my God, that You have permitted Your most beloved Son to come down into this abyss of pain? We render thanks to You, O Lord, not so great as we owe but as great as we are able, that by so great labor and pain You hast willed to prepare for us rest and everlasting joy. But add to Your benefits that You would give us the illumined eyes of the heart whereby knowing this grace, we may magnify it and keep it most carefully. Engrave upon our souls a perpetual remembrance of Your pains, that it may be to us a most strong bridle from every evil, and a most sharp spur to every good.

But now let us come to the other consideration of the dimensions of the cross. The length of the cross is patience; the breadth, charity; the height, obedience; the depth, humility. These four virtues, after the fashion of shining stars, flashed forth in the Passion of Christ.

Length is patience; for long‑suffering belongs to patience. And patience shone out in the Passion of Christ: for in so many injuries received from Judas, from the Jews, from Pilate, from Herod, from the soldiers, from the crowds by night and almost through the whole day, no voice was heard of Him either in anger, or threatening, or reviling; but plainly, as an innocent lamb that is led to the victim, He opened not His mouth. Most truly St. Peter says: “Christ also suffered for us, leaving you an example that you should follow His footsteps; who when He was reviled, did not revile; when He suffered, He did not threaten; but He gave Himself over to Him that judged Him unjustly.”

Breadth is charity; for “broad is Thy commandment exceedingly” (Ps. 118[119]:96), as the Prophet sings; and truly it is the broadest commandment which is extended even to enemies. How brightly this shone in the Passion of Christ is witnessed by those words: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” What greater charity can be imagined than not only to forgive enemies while their crime is fresh, but to excuse them, and to commend them to His own Father as Judge, and to pray pardon for them? Who ever heard of such an excess of charity?

The crucified one, while the wounds are fresh, while the most bitter pain is present, as if forgetful of Himself, He remembers His enemies; and He strives to appease the Judge for them, while they, in the presence of the crucified Lord himself, divide among themselves his garments. This deed surely is of such a kind that it is a wonder if all who have been hurt by enemies do not, after the example of their Lord, immediately grow gentle and resolve in earnest to forgive the injuries received.

Moreover, height is obedience; for obedience always looks upon God most high, of whom it is right to command, and by whose authority all rulers command their subjects. And this virtue in the passion of Christ gave a splendor no less than the others. For the Son obeyed the Father in a matter most difficult of all, as the Apostle says: “He humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.” (Phil. 2:8) And although in the garden of Gethsemani the horror of the most cruel passion so assailed Christ’s humanity that he besought the Father and said: “Father, if thou wilt, remove this chalice from me;” yet, mindful of obedience, he immediately added: “Nevertheless not my will, but thine be done.” O what a singular lesson of obedience is in the Lord’s words! For this is truly to deny His very self, this is to mortify His own will, this is to immolate the most noble and pleasing sacrifice of all to God.

Lastly, depth is humility; for it always remains at the bottom, and lies down in the last place, and yields to all, and of its own accord goes before none. Now this virtue was always so dear to Christ that he himself wished to be held properly as the doctor of humility: “Learn of me, for I am meek and humble of heart.” But in the passion He not only did not take it hard that He was set after Barabbas, a robber and murderer, by the people of the Jews; but he humbled himself, made obedient even unto death. What will you say here, Christian soul? Will it please you, with so great an example of humility set before you, to be proud against any man, or to quarrel with anyone about precedence? But these two words, “He humbled himself”, because in fact no one could compel him to endure the death of the cross unless he had willed to humble himself; These considerations admonish me to pass to the second heading of the proposed discussion.

We proposed two headings, whereby it was to be proved that we are to weep for the passion of Christ. One heading was the consideration of Christ’s passion, not as past, but as present. The other was the consideration of the same passion, not as it is in itself, but as the effect of our crimes. And because more than enough has been said about the previous heading, let us come to the second heading; and let it be briefly shown that there was no power among men that could subject Christ to the passion unless he had willed it. And this indeed is not difficult to show. For who was ever of such power that he could subject the Son of the most high God to so many torments and even to death itself? Was it the cohort of soldiers and the servants of the Jews? But when they heard the voice of the Son of God, “I am he,” they went backward and fell to the ground. Was it Pilate, the governor of Judaea? But he is dust and ashes, if he be compared with Christ, who is the power of God. Was it the Roman Emperor? But he too was a worm of the earth. Was it the power of the devil? But Christ used to cast those out by a word. Was it the justice of God? But Christ was innocent, holy, undefiled, set apart from sinners, higher than the heavens, and purer than the angels. What then scourged the Son of God, fastened him to the cross, slew him? My impiety, the Father’s charity, and the Son’s obedience. “For the iniquity of my people have I struck him,” said the Father through Isaiah; (Isa. 53:8) and the Apostle added: “The Son humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.” (Phil. 2:8) Therefore my sins, your sins, the sin of Adam, and of all his children were the cause of the passion and death of the Son of God. Not even the thorns, although very sharp, could not that tremendous head of the powers of heaven, unless my pride had added strength to them. Not even the scourges, though very many, could have worn down that flesh, unless my carnal appetites had helped them. Not even the iron nails, though very hard, could have pierced those hands and feet, unless my avarice and my wanderings had driven them on. Finally, not even death itself would have dared to come near and oppress life, unless my iniquity had opened an entrance to it. So then, do the sins of men have such strength as to have prevailed over the Son of God? Not the sins themselves, but the hatred of God against sins, and the love of God the Father toward the human race, and the obedience of the Son of God toward the Father, did this. Yet we attribute this to sins; and rightly we attribute it. If they had not existed, the Lord’s passion would not have been. Accordingly, the Son of God could truly impute his passion to our sins; but because he is gentle and merciful, He imputes his passion not to our sins, but to His own charity and mercy. For thus He himself speaks in the Gospel: “No one takes my life from me, but I lay it down of myself.” (Jn. 10:18) And the Apostle, for himself and for all of us, says: “Christ hath loved us, and hath delivered himself for us, an oblation and a sacrifice to God for an odour of sweetness.” (Eph. 5:2)

What will you render, oh my soul, to the Lord for all which He has rendered unto you? Lest he you would offered nothing to such a benefactor, who, that He might blot out your sins and cleanse you, delivered Himself into death, that His death might be a sacrifice to God for you, for an odor of sweetness. I will indeed offer a heart contrite and humbled; I will offer the tears of penance, a testimony of hatred for sin; finally, I will offer a ready will for whatever he shall have deigned to ask of me. Ask then, O Lord, for now we will be able to deny you nothing, [unclear phrase], our heart by thy exceeding charity. And what do you think, O soul, that the Lord will ask, but the salvation of your soul? For this he asked when on the Cross he said: “I thirst.” So may it be, good Lord: may thy charity so abound, that thou, who for us didst toil even unto death, and the death of the cross, shouldst seek no other reward than that we too cooperate for the salvation of our souls. This surely is the pattern of truest charity. Therefore, O Lord, give what thou askest, and ask what thou wilt. Thus will thy will be fulfilled, and our obedience, for our salvation and thy glory.

 

[1] Serm. Pass. Dom. XI.

[2] Stimulus Divini Amoris, 1, 1.

[3] Vita S. Francesci, c. 10.