Station II.
Christ takes the Cross on his shoulder.
V. We adore Thee, O Lord Jesus Christ, and bless Thee.
R. Because by Thy holy Cross Thou has redeemed the world.
The Mystery
HIS second Station represents the place where your most amiable Redeemer is
clad in his usual attire, after His inhuman executioners had stripped Him of
the purple garment of derision with which He was clothed, when as a visionary
king they crowned Him with plaited thorns. The heavy burthen of the Cross
Is violently placed on His mangled shoulders.
Behold your gracious Saviour, though torn with wounds, covered with blood, a man of griefs, abandoned by all — with what silent patience He bears the taunts and injuries with which the Jews insult Him. He stretches out His bleeding arms, and tenderly embraces the Cross. Reflect with confusion on that sensitive pride which is fired with impatience at the very shadow of contempt — on your discontented murmurs in your lightest afflictions — and your obstinate resistance to the will of Heaven in the crosses of life, which are calculated to conduct you not to a Calvary of Crucifixion, but to joys of eternal glory; and from your heart unite in the following
Prayer.
EEK AND HUMBLE Jesus! my iniquity and perverseness loaded Thy shoulders
with the heavy burthen of the Cross. Yet I, a vile worm of the earth, O
shameful ingratitude! fly even the appearance of mortification, and everything which would check the violence of my passions; and if I suffered, it
was with a murmuring reluctance. I now, O Saviour of the world! detest my past life,
and by Thy grace am determined no more to offend Thee mortally. Let me only glory in
the Cross of my Lord, by whom the world is crucified to me, and I to the world. Lay
then on my stubborn neck the cross of true penance; let me, for the love of Thee, bear
the adversities of this life, and cleave inseparably to Thee in the bonds of perpetual
charity. Amen. Jesus.
Our Father, &c. Hail Mary, &c. Glory, &c.
Jesus Christ crucified, have mercy on us!
No pity for the Lamb was to be found;
As a mock King my loving Lord they crown'd.
To bear the heavy cross He does not tire,
To save my soul from everlasting fire.
