for how many ages have You hung upon Your cross
and still men pass You by and regard You not
except to pierce anew Your Sacred Heart.
How often have I passed You by,
heedless of Your great sorrow, Your many wounds, Your infinite love!
How often have I stood before You not to comfort and console You,
but to add to Your sorrow, to deepen Your wounds, to scorn Your love!
You have stretched forth Your hands to comfort me, to raise me up,
and I have taken those hands that might have struck me into hell,
and have bent them back on the cross and nailed them there rigid and helpless.
Yet I have but succeeded in engraving my name in Your palms forever!
You have loved me with an infinite love, and I have taken advantage of that love
to sin the more against You;
yet my ingratitude has but pierced Your Sacred Heart
and forth upon me has flowed Your Precious Blood.
O Jesus! Let Your Blood be upon me not for a curse but for a blessing.
Lamb of God, You take away the
sins of the world: have mercy on me!