(NOTE: The electronic text obtained from The Electronic Bible Society was
not completely corrected. EWTN has corrected all discovered errors.)
A POEM ON THE PASSION OF THE LORD
FORMERLY ASCRIBED TO LACTANTIUS.
[Translated by the Reverend William Fletcher, D.D.]
WHOEVER you are who approach, and are entering the precincts[1] of the
middle of the temple, stop a little and look upon me, who, though innocent,
suffered for your crime; lay me up in your mind, keep me in your breast. I
am He who, pitying the bitter misfortunes of men, came hither as a
messenger[2] of offered peace, and as a full atonement[3] for the fault of
men.[4] Here the brightest light from above is restored to the earth; here
is the merciful image of safety; here I am a rest to you, the right way,
the true redemption, the banner[5] of God, and a memorable sign of fate. It
was on account of you and your life that I entered the Virgin's womb, was
made man, and suffered a dreadful death; nor did I find rest anywhere in
the regions of the earth, but everywhere threats, everywhere labours. First
of all a wretched dwelling[6] in the land of Judged was a shelter for me at
my birth, and for my mother with me: here first, amidst the outstretched
sluggish cattle, dry grass gave me a bed in a narrow stall. I passed my
earliest years in the Pharian[7] regions, being an exile in the reign of
Herod; and after my return to Judaea I spent the rest of my years, always
engaged[8] in fastings, and the extremity of poverty itself, and the lowest
circumstances; always by healthful admonitions applying the minds of men to
the pursuit of genial uprightness, uniting with wholesome teaching many
evident miracles: on which account impious Jerusalem, harassed by the
raging cares of envy and cruel hatred, and blinded by madness, dared to
seek for me, though innocent, by deadly punishment, a cruel death on the
dreadful cross. And if you yourself wish to discriminate these things more
fully,[9] and if it delights you to go through all my groans, and to
experience griefs with me, put together[10] the designs and plots, and the
impious price of my innocent blood; and the pretended kisses of a
disciple,[11] and the insults and strivings of the cruel multitude; and,
moreover, the blows, and tongues prepared[12] for accusations. Picture to
your mind both the witnesses, and the accursed[13] judgment of the blinded
Pilate, and the immense cross pressing my shoulders and wearied back, and
my painful steps to a dreadful death. Now survey me from head to foot,
deserted as I am, and lifted up afar from my beloved mother. Behold and see
my locks clotted with blood, and my blood-stained neck under my very hair,
and my head drained[14] with cruel thorns, and pouring down like rain[15]
from all sides a stream[16] of blood over my divine face. Survey my
compressed and sightless eyes, and my afflicted cheeks; see my parched
tongue poisoned with gall, and my countenance pale with death. Behold my
hands pierced with nails, and my arms drawn out, and the great wound in my
side; see the blood streaming from it, and my perforated[17] feet, and
blood-stained limbs. Bend your knee, and with lamentation adore the
venerable wood of the cross, and with lowly countenance stooping[18] to the
earth, which is wet with innocent blood, sprinkle it with rising tears, and
at times[19] bear me and my admonitions in your devoted heart. Follow the
footsteps of my life, and while you look upon my torments and cruel death,
remembering my innumerable pangs of body and soul, learn to endure
hardships,[20] and to watch over your own safety. These memorials,[21] if
at any time you find pleasure in thinking over them, if in your mind there
is any confidence to bear anything like my sufferings),[1] if the piety
due, and gratitude worthy of my labours shall arise, will be incitements
[2] to true virtue, and they will be shields against the snares of an
enemy, aroused[3] by which you will be safe, and as a conqueror bear off
the palm in every contest. If these memorials shall turn away your senses,
which are devoted to a perishable[4] world, from the fleeting shadow of
earthly beauty, the result will be, that you will not venture,[5] enticed
by empty hope, to trust the frail[6] enjoyments of fickle fortune, and to
place your hope in the fleeting years of life. But, truly, if you thus
regard this perishable world,[7] and through your love of a better country
deprive yourself[8] of earthly riches and the enjoyment of present
things,[9] the prayers of the pious will bring you up[10] in sacred habits,
and in the hope of a happy life, amidst severe punishments, will cherish
you with heavenly dew, and feed you with the sweetness of the promised
good. Until the great favour of God shall recall your happy" soul to the
heavenly regions,[12] your body being left after the fates of death. Then
freed from all labour, then joyfully beholding the angelic choirs, and the
blessed companies of saints in perpetual bliss, it shall reign with me in
the happy abode of perpetual peace.
Taken from "The Early Church Fathers and Other Works" originally published
by Wm. B. Eerdmans Pub. Co. in English in Edinburgh, Scotland beginning in
1867. (ANF 7, Roberts and Donaldson). The digital version is by The
Electronic Bible Society, P.O. Box 701356, Dallas, TX 75370, 214-407-WORD.
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