Contemplation: The Passion of Our Lord.

The Blessed Virgin Speaks to Saint Bridget:
    When the time of my Son's Passion arrived, his enemies seized Him, Striking Him on His cheek and neck; and spitting upon Him, they mocked Him. Then, led to the pillar, he stripped Himself, and himself stretched his hands to the pillar, which His enemies, pitiless, bound. . . . Then His enemies rose up, for they stood on all sides, His body pure from all spot or sin. At the first blow, I, who stood nearest, fell as if dead, and on recovering my senses I beheld His body bruised and beaten to the very ribs, so that His ribs could be seen; and what was still more bitter, when the scourge was raised, His very flesh was furrowed by the thongs. And when my Son stood thus, all bloody, all torn, so that no soundness could be found in Him nor any spot to scourge, then one, his spirit roused within him, asked: "Will you slay Him thus unjudged?" and he immediately cut His bonds. Then my Son put on His clothes, and I beheld the spot where my Son's feet stood all full of blood, and I knew my Son's course by His footprints, for wherever He went, the earth seemed stained with blood; nor did they suffer Him to clothe Himself, but they compelled and urged Him to hasten.
    Now, as my Son was led away like a robber, He wiped away the blood from His eyes. And when He was condemned, they gave Him His cross to bear. When He had carried it a short way, one came up and assumed it. Meanwhile, as my Son was going to the place of His Passion, some smote Him on the back, others struck Him in the face. And so violently and rudely was He struck that though I did not see the person striking, I distinctly heard the sound of the blow. And when I came with Him to the place of the Passion, I beheld all the instruments prepared for His death. And my Son Himself, coming thither, divested Himself of His clothes, the attendants saying to each other: "These vestments are ours, nor can He have them again, that is condemned to death." Now, . . . someone, running up, handed Him a cloth with which, exulting inwardly, He covered Himself. Then His cruel executioners seized Him, and stretched Him on the cross. First they fixed His right hand to the beam, which was pierced for nails, and they transfixed His hand in the part where the bone was firmest. Then drawing His other hand with a rope, they affixed it in like manner to the cross. Then they crucified His right foot, and over it the left, with two nails, so that all the nerves and veins were extended and broken. This done, they again fitted the crown of thorns to His Head, which so acutely wounded the venerable head of my Son that His eyes were filled, His ears stopped up, with the blood that streamed down, and His whole beard matted with the gore. And as He stood thus pierced and bloody, condoling with me as I stood mourning, He looked with blood-stained eyes to John, my kinsman, and commended me to him. At that time I heard some saying that my Son was a robber, others that He was a liar, others that none better deserved death than my Son, and these words renewed my grief. But, as has been said, when the first nail was driven into Him, horrified at the first blow, I fell as though dead, my eyes darkened, my hands trembling, my feet quivering, nor for the bitterness could I look again before He was nailed fast.