The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ
Translated from the Polish
“GORZKIE ŻALE” (Gawsh’ka Zhah’la)
into English Verse by The Rev. J. P. Wachowski
Diocese of Toledo
CLEVELAND, OHIO
Nihil obstat:
ANTHONY N. FUERST, S. T. D.
Censor Librorum
Imprimatur:
f EDWARD F. HOBAN
Bishop of Cleveland
Cleveland, Ohio, January 22, 1945
Copyright 1945
by
MARYMOUNT PUBLICATIONS
6804 Lansing Avenue,
Cleveland, Ohio
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FOREWORD
In their literal English translation the meditations on the Passion of Our Lord which follow are called “Bitter Sorrows”. Their name was derived from the desire to express that natural salutary reaction which is inevitably produced in us, whenever, in the spirit of piety, we strive to meditate upon the agonies Christ suffered prior to His cruel death upon the Cross.
Though these lamentations, like any other prayer, may be read or recited, their true medium is the traditional chant. Only when they are chanted by the entire congregation, with or without the accompaniment of the organ, can their real value and effect upon our soul be fully appreciated. Through the use of plain chant they beautifully and devoutly unfold the heart-rending story of Our Saviour’s Passion. By this direct appeal to our hearts and to our compassion a deep love for the suffering Christ is kindled. And because of this very chant, in centuries past, there was engendered within an entire nation an abiding and ardent love for Christ in His Passion.
Solemn
Liquefy our eyes, repenting,
And shed streams of tears, lamenting.
Lo, the sun and stars are swooning,
As in grief they are communing.
Angel-choirs are sadly wailing,
And from painful anguish paling.
Hardened rocks disintegrating,
And the dead their tombs vacating.
Why this sorrow and vexation —
Overwhelming all creation?
‘Tis the Saviour’s sacred passion,
Which evokes such great compassion.
Touch our hearts, O Lord most Holy,
With compunction deep and lowly.
In Thy precious life-blood lave me,
And from my transgressions save me.
When I contemplate Thine anguish,
I find solace — though I languish.
PART 1.
MEDITATION
With the aid of God’s grace, we will awaken in our hearts a sincere sorrow for our sins. Then with contrite heart we will in the spirit of devotion offer this meditation on the bitter passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, to Our Heavenly Father for His greater honor and glory. For we are ever mindful of God’s immense love for us, His most unworthy creatures. Out of pure love of us He has seen fit to send us His only – begotten Son Jesus Christ, who assumed our human nature so that He might satisfy Divine Justice not only by suffering cruel torments, but also by dying on the Cross.
We will also offer it as an act of veneration to the Most Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother most sorrowful, and to all the Saints of God, but especially to those who have distinguished themselves by their ardent devotion to the passion of Christ.
In the first part of our meditation, we shall consider Our Lord’s sufferings, beginning with His prayer and bloody sweat in the Garden of Gethsemane and ending with His unjust accusation before the tribunal of the Jews, the Sanhedrin. These insults and indignities we shall offer to Our suffering Lord for the exaltation of Holy Mother the Church, and for all the clergy, beseeching Him to soften the hearts of the enemies of His cross, to bring back all unbelievers to the true fold.
The cruel soldier with stout rone belays Him,
And treacherous Judas with a kiss betrays Him,
The Lord weeps inly, bitter tears effusing,
His face suffusing.
Derided, jostled by the Jewish rabble,
Journeys to judgment amid sinful babble,
His hair disheveled, and His head all gory,
Our King of glory!
His pallid features are with blood bespattered,
His stainless flesh by soldier’s mailed fist tattered.
The Victim’s sobbing soon gives place to wailing,
His stout Heart’s quailing.
Vile heart of mine, why art with grief not rended ?
O dearest Lord, Thee have I sore offended!
My sinfulness to reparation moves me,
My God, I love Thee!
Jesu, whom the greedy Judas sold
For thirty shining pieces of silver,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, pressed with sorrow and with pain
By thoughts of cruel death approaching,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, shedding drops of bloody sweat
While praying prostrate in the Garden,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, with a treacherous kiss betrayed
By most ungrateful of disciples,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, bound and held with stoutest cords
By rude, unsympathetic soldiers,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, jeered at by the howling mob
Before the mock-court of the High-priest Annas,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, rudely dragged by sinful hands
Along the street unto the house of Caiphas,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, struck upon Thy sacred face
By the mailed hand of cruel Malchus,
My beloved Jesus!
Why, O Mother, art thou troubled?
Why should worries be redoubled?
Why does thy brave heart recoil?
Ask me not. — I’m faint with anguish,
I am speechless — and I languish
With the pain that grips my heart.
Tell me, tell me, Blessed Maiden,
Why so pale and heavy-laden?
Why so bitterly dost weep?
Lo, I see my Son prostrated
In the Garden — desolated,
Sweating blood from all His pores.
Mother, source of love eternal,
Let me feel thy grief maternal,
Would that I could weep with thee!
PART II.
MEDITATION
In the second part of our meditation we shall ponder on the sufferings of Our Lord Jesus Christ, from the time He was accused before the Sanhedrin up to the moment when His persecutors crowned His Head with a royal crown of thorns.
These wounds, indignities and insults we shall offer to Our suffering Lord for the whole of Christendom, in the hope that they may move God to grant that all nations may live in peace and harmony with one anoth¬er, that Christian charity may rule all hearts and that true unity and a lasting and loving peace may reign in the world.
We shall offer them that we ourselves may obtain the remission of our sins and of the punishment due to them, and that God may grant us protection against pestilence and famine, misfortune and war.
HYMN
Behold, my soul, how thy God doth love thee!
To scorn and pain, He offered Himself for thee.
In truth, thy misdeeds, more than Jewish malice,
Fill bitter chalice.
See, how He stands there, Lord of all creation,
In face of stern judge, waiting condemnation,
In white robe clad, the gentle Lamb is chided,
As fool derided.
For my transgressions scourged He was severely,
With precious life-blood, bought I were most dearly,
Incarnate God, O Love all overwhelming,
My sin redeeming.
While man’s vainglory foolish pride discloses,
And wordly splendors deck his brow with roses,
His thorn-crowned King in purple robe must languish,
O cruel anguish!
Vile heart of mine, why art with grief not rended ?
O dearest Lord, Thee have I sore offended!
My sinfulness to grief and sorrow moves me.
My God, I love Thee!
THE SOUL’S LAMENT OVER THE SUFFERING JESUS
Jesu, for whose death the jeering mob
As if Thou were a malefactor, — clamored!
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, whose fair countenance was marred
By spittle foul of contumelious ruffians,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, whom through cowardice and fear
Peter thrice denied, repudiated,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, dragged by executioners
Before the unjust court of Pilate,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, whom King Herod and his court
Mocked and hailed as “King of Glory”,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, clothed in white robes and exposed
To public scorn, to sheer derision,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, to the pillar firmly bound
And lashed with scourges most severely,
My beloved Jesu
Jesu, on whose bruised and bleeding head
A crown of thorns was placed to disgrace Him,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, robed in purple by the Jews,
And subjected to scornful derision,
My beloved Jesus!
All hail, O Jesus! — Honor to Jesus!
For us derided, — Reviled and chided:
To Thee, All Holy — Praises and glory,
To Thee, God eternal!
SORROWFUL DISCOURSE OF THE SOUL WITH THE MOURNFUL MOTHER
Ah, I see a sight most loathing:
My dear Son stripped of His clothing,
At the post — scourged cruelly.
Holy Virgin, thy Son’s passion
Let me ponder with compassion
In my heart forevermore.
Ah, I see the sharp thorns boring
His fair head, the blood outpouring,
While my heart is racked with pain.
Blessed- Lady, let me share in
Thy Son’s passion, finding therein
For all troubles prompt relief.
Oh that I, a Mother saddened,
And with grief and anguish maddened,
Could for Thee Thy huge cross bear.
I implore thee, Mother Mary:
May through life I with thee carry
Thy Son’s cross forevermore?
PART III.
MEDITATION
Finally, in the last part of our meditation, we shall consider the sufferings which Our Lord underwent in His Passion from the hour He was nailed to the cross to the moment He breathed forth His last breath on that infamous gibbet.
All these sufferings, blasphemies, insults, and indignities visited upon Our Innocent Saviour, we shall offer up to Our Heavenly Father. We shall offer them for the founders and benefactors of our parish, for all the faithful who are numbered in its fold, not only for the living and the dead, but also for all hardened sinners, particularly those who obstinately refuse to rid themselves of the evil habits of impurity and of drunkenness. Through this offering we earnestly beseech that by His passion, Our Saviour move their hearts to repent their wrongs and to amend their lives.
We also offer these sufferings, blasphemies, insults, and indignities for all the souls in Purgatory that the merciful Jesus alleviate their sufferings by His Most Precious Blood. Finally, moved by their efficacy, we entreat Him to intercede for us with His most merciful Father, that at the hour of our death, we may obtain the grace of a sincere sorrow for our sins and the reward of an eternal peace with Him in the possession of Heaven.
HYMN
Insensate soul, why art thou not burning?
Thou selfish heart, why art with love not yearning?
The Man of Sorrows loving thee most dearly,
Sheds His Blood freely.
Impelled by love His cross He meekly shoulders,
While deepest anguish in His bosom smoulders.
With lacerated limbs, exhausted, groaning,
He falls down moaning.
Forgiving, to His foes Himself surrenders,
His hands and feet in eager mercy tenders,
Stretched on redemptive cross, a clean oblation,
For my salvation.
O dear Cross, to us Christ’s Body surrender,
To Him love’s contrite homage we would tender.
All bruised and mangled, Him in tears adoring,
My heart conforming.
Oh, would my heart by sorest grief were rended,
O Lord, I have Thee shamefully offended,
My past transgressions to repentance move me,
My King, I love Thee!
My thorn-crowned Saviour, praise to Thee and glory!
For cruel insults, pains and stripes and worry,
Which Thy Heart suffered for our sins infernal.
Lord God eternal!
THE SOUL’S LAMENT OVER THE
SUFFERING JESUS
Jesu, whom the impious mob denounced
As malefactor, with vilest thieves and robbers,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, unto ignominious death
Unjustly sentenced by the wavering Pilate,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, forced to carry Thy own cross
Up the summit of Mount Calvary,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, fastened to disgraceful wood
With sharpest nails by savage executioners,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, by the Jews between two thieves
Upon the cross publicly suspended,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, by the passing mob reviled
And by the angry throng derided,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, for whose fiercely burning thirst
To quench, vinegar and gall was offered,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, whom the unrepenting thief
Regaled with blasphemy most vilely,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, who, when dying in agony,
Didst commend Thy Spirit to Thy Father,
My beloved Jesus!
Jesu, whose sacred body after death
Was by Joseph and by Nicodemus buried,
My beloved Jesus!
All hail, O Jesus! — Honor to Jesus!
For us derided, — Reviled and chided:
To Thee, All Holy — Praises and glory To Thee, God eternal!
SORROWFUL DISCOURSE OF THE SOUL WITH THE MOURNFUL MOTHER
Lo, I stand, a Mother weeping,
At the cross my station keeping,
While my heart is racked with pain.
As I stand here contemplating
Thy Son’s cross and meditating,
Grant that I may weep with Thee.
Ah, My sorrow now is growing
As my Son to death is going,
Would that I could die with Him!
Mother, may I share thy anguish,
And beneath thy Son’s cross languish,
Pondering my Saviour’s death?
Still sweet do His blessed words hover,
As He parts from thee, dear Mother,
Bowingr down His thorn-crowned Head.
Mother Mary, I implore thee,
May I ever have before me
Thy Son’s passion, cross and death?
THE CROSS O’ER THE ALTAR ****** ****** SUBMERGES MY TROUBLES
I turn my steps from the cares of the day
To the door of the church I make my way.
As I close that door on the pagan light
The enveloping shadows portray the contrite —
The shadows of sorrow for my every transgression
Surrounding Our Lord in His earthly descension
As He dwells through the hours, here and within,
Wondering why I so seldom come in.
But on the altar the sanctuary light
As the light of hope always burns bright,
Instilling confidence it draws me toward
The altar rail to talk to my Lord.
To tell Him my cares of the interim —
The time that’s passed since I last talked to Him,
To pray to Him in the most humble way,
My words my own — as a servant I pray.
The cross o’er the altar with each nail and thorn
Supporting His body all beaten and torn
Submerges my troubles — by my own intuition
Adoration replaces my selfish petition.
Adoration for Him so forgotten by men
Who crucify now as they crucified then,
Who pierce His hands, His feet and side,
Ne’er stop to think for whom He died.
As I withdraw from this setting serene
To work out salvation on earth’s troubled scene
Instruct me, O Lord, in loving my brothers
That I may assist in the saving of others —
That death will not be a lasting defeat
That all may find rest at last at Thy feet.
That greater glory may come unto Thee,
Lord, do whate’er Thou wilt with me.
