[ Recite 1 Our Father - 10 Hail Marys - 1 Glory be to the Father ]

My Jesus, I often think my portion of the cross is more than I can bear. It seems to me that I am the recipient of superfluous suffering. My thoughts are empty of reasoning and my heart is cold. If I remembered that You were crowned with thorns after You were scourged, I would be silent in the Presence of Divine Wisdom.

My pride, stubbornness and lack of faith tagged each thorn as it pierced Your Sacred Head. My desire for the glory of this world to the exclusion of spiritual realities tightened the branches around Your Head.

My lack of confidence in Your Mercy and the lukewarmness of my love braided this instrument of torture into a wreath of unspeakable pain.

Were the tiny thorns that pricked Your Head the worries I permit to choke Your Word from my mind? Were the resentments I cherish in my
memory the reed that struck Your Head? And when the spittle randown Your Face, did my arrogance make You cry?

Oh, Jesus, let me never forget Your love for me and the reparation You offered the Father for my sake. Let my soul magnify the Lord by humility of heart, purity of mind, and a gentle spirit.


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