Prayer of Thanksgiving after Each Hour

The 24 Hours of the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

My Beloved Jesus, You have called me to this Hour of your Passion to keep You company�and I have come. I seem to have heard you, anguished and sorrowful, praying, making reparation and suffering. With the most loving, eloquent voices you were pleading for the salvation of souls. I tried to follow You in everything. Now, I owe You my heartfelt �Thank You� and �I bless You.�

Yes, O Jesus, I repeat my �Thank You� thousands and thousands of times. I bless You for all that You have done and suffered for me and for everyone. I thank You and I bless You for every drop of Blood You shed. I thank You for every breath, for every heartbeat, and for every step. I thank You for every word, glance, affliction, and outrage that You had to endure. In everything, O my Jesus, I intend to give You my �Thank You� and �I bless You.� O my Jesus, let my soul send forth a continuous flow of thanksgiving and blessings to You�to draw down upon all of us the abundant flow of your blessings and graces. Please, O Jesus, press me to your Heart, and with your most holy hands seal every particle of my being with your �I bless you�, so that nothing other than a continuous hymn to You may come from me.

So I leave my being within Yours, to follow you in all you do; better still, you will be so alive in me that I will leave my thoughts in you to defend you from your enemies, my breaths as a faithful companion, my heartbeat to recall my �I love you,� and to give you the love that the others refuse to give you; I will give you the drops of my blood to atone and make up the honor and regard that your enemies deny you with their insults and offenses. I will leave my entire being as a guard.

My dear love, while I must go about my duties, I will remain in your heart. I am afraid to leave It. Is it not true that You will keep me here? Our heartbeats will continually touch so that You will give me life, love, and close and inseparable union with You.

Jesus, if You see that I am about to run from You at times, let your heartbeat hasten in mine. Let your hands press me closer to your Heart; let your eyes look at me and pierce me with rays of fire so that I may feel your presence and immediately return to union with You.

O my Jesus, be on guard so that I may not exhaust You. I beg You to watch over me. O give me a kiss, embrace me, and bless me! Give me your most holy hands so that I can do all that I must do united with You! My Jesus, give me the kiss of Divine Love, embrace me and bless me; I will kiss your intoxicating Heart, and take my rest in You.

Christ's Passion Hour from 4 p.m. to 5 p.m.

The 24 Hours of the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Christ's Passion Hour from 3 p.m. to 4 p.m.

Preparation Prayer Before Each Hour

From 4 p.m. to 5 p.m.
The Burial of Jesus. Most Holy and Desolate Mary.

My Jesus, You are taken down from the Cross, and your sorrowful Mother is the first to receive You in her lap. Your pierced Head rests gently in her arms. O sweet Mother, do not refuse my company. United with You, let me do my last duty to my loving Jesus. My sweetest Mother, it is true that you surpass me in love and gentleness in touching my Jesus, but I will try to imitate You as best I can�to delight adorable Jesus in all that I do. That is why I want to join my hands with your most holy hands to remove all the thorns that crown his Sacred Head�and to unite your profound adoration to my own. Heavenly Mother, your hands make ready to clean the clotted blood from Jesus� eyes�those darkened and lifeless eyes that used to give light to the whole world.

O Mother, I unite myself with You. Let us kiss them together! see the ears of my Jesus, covered in Blood, bruised by blows and pierced with thorns. O Mother, let us adore those ears that no longer hear. Let us adore those ears that have suffered so much, inviting countless deaf and stubborn souls with the call of grace. O sweet Mother, I see your tearful and sorrowful eyes as You gaze at the mournful Face of Jesus.

I unite my sorrow to yours. Let us remove the mud and spittle which have nearly disfigured Him. Let us adore that Face which enamored Heaven and earth with its Divine Majesty�and which now gives no sign of life. O sweet Mother, let us kiss his mouth. Let us kiss that divine mouth which used the gentleness of his words to draw so many souls to his Heart.

O Mother, I want to take your very own mouth, to kiss his bruised and bloodied lips�and to adore them profoundly. O my sweet Mother, Jesus� Body has become one great wound. I want to kiss it with You again and again. want to join my hands with Yours to put back the pieces of flesh that hang from his Body, as we adore them profoundly.

O Mother, let us kiss those creative hands that have worked so many prodigies for us�those pierced and twisted hands now cold and rigid in death. O sweet Mother, let us enclose the destinies of all souls in these most holy wounds. When He rises from the dead, Jesus will find all the souls You have placed here�and none will be lost. O Mother, let us adore these wounds with all souls�and in the name of all souls. O heavenly Mother, You draw near to Jesus� poor feet to kiss them. How many torn wounds there are! The piercing nails have torn away part of the flesh and the skin�and the weight of his most Sacred Body has ripped them cruelly. Let us kiss these wounds and adore them profoundly.

Let us enclose all the steps of sinners in the wounds of his feet. As they walk, may they feel Jesus� steps close behind them�and may they no longer dare to offend Him! O Mother, I see you fix your gaze on sweet Jesus� open Heart. I beg You to bury and enclose me in his Heart. What shall we do inside this Heart? You will teach me, O mournful Mother, you will bury me inside It, you will cover It with the stone and seal me inside and here, where I place my heart and my life, I shall hide for all eternity.

O Mother, give me your Love that I may love Jesus! Give me your sorrow to plead for everyone�and to atone for every sin against his Heart! O Mother, as You bury Jesus with your own hands, remember that I, too, want to be buried with Him�so that, after having been buried with Jesus, I may rise with Him and all that is His. May it be like this!

And now a word for You, O most loving Mother. I deeply pity You. If it were possible, with all the strength of my poor heart I would gather your heartbeats, your desires, and the lives of all creatures�and I would lay them before You as an act of compassion and love. I suffer with You in your extreme sorrow at seeing Jesus die, crowned with thorns, and torn by the whips and by the nails. I suffer with You upon seeing those eyes that no longer look at You; those ears that no longer hear your voice; and that mouth that no longer speaks to You.

I pity You in your sorrow upon seeing those hands that no longer embrace You; and those feet that no longer follow You. If it were possible, I would like to offer You the very Heart of Jesus overflowing with Love�to console You as You deserve and to ease your most bitter pains.

Reflections and Practices.

Jesus is buried. A rock secures Him and prevents his Mother from gazing upon her Son any longer. Am I like one who is dead inside the Heart of Jesus? Can I say that my heart is like a tomb that keeps me hidden from the eyes of creatures, and that I am indifferent, seeing that everyone has forgotten me? Once buried, no one glances at Jesus any more: a stone hides Him, and He can no longer gaze at his Mother; nor can She gaze at her Son; and though They are both holy, They can no longer gaze at each other. Now in holy things, do I remain indifferent, with that holy detachment that does not allow me to be disobedient in anything?

And though I may feel different affections, until it seems that Jesus has completely abandoned me, do I conquer everything with a holy detachment that continually draws me to Him? Can I say that yesterday is like today, and that though I may be rejected, still, with my constancy, I form a sweet chain that draws Him to me so that, should I want to form a thought, I will take the life of my thinking from the thoughts of Jesus? Are my glances immersed in Jesus� glances in such a way that I only receive the glances that Jesus wants to give me, and I only look at what Jesus looks at? Is my voice immersed in Jesus� voice in such a way that should I desire to speak, I would not do so unless I did it with Jesus� tongue?

Are my steps immersed in His in such a way that as I walk I do not leave the impressions of my own footprints, but those of Jesus? Is my heart immersed in His so that I am able to love and desire as his Heart Loves and desires? my Jesus, just as your life flows in the midst of ours and constantly spurs us to love You and imitate You, so may my life do for others.

If Jesus is hidden, can I say that my sorrow is similar to the sorrow of the most Holy Mother, and that while I suffer I am bound more tightly to his Heart?

My Mother, when Jesus hides Himself from me for the good of my soul, grant me the grace that You had when You were deprived of Him, so that I may give Him all the glory that You gave Him when He was buried in the Sepulcher.

As I take your thought in order to think, do give me the thoughts from your Mind, thus allowing my thoughts to share in your power and to do the good that your Mind did. Jesus, as I look with your glances, do give me the power and the tenderness of your divine glances, thus allowing me to penetrate the hearts of all creatures. In this way I will honor You: it will be as if your glances, looking inside me and inside all souls, attracted all souls to You in the same way that You deigned to attract my soul.

O Jesus, I pray, but with your voice. And just as your voice pierced the Heavens and resounded in the voices of all, so may the voices of all creatures resound in my voice, to give honor to your voice, piercing the Heavens to give glory and love to your word.

My Jesus, my heart is beating; yet I am not happy unless You let my heart beat with Yours�for with your heartbeat I will love as You Love. I will give You the love of all creatures, and a singular cry will ring out:�Love, Love!� It will satisfy the love of the Father and of all creatures, beseeching all creatures to convert. Therefore, O my Jesus, give honor to Yourself! On everything I do, imprint the seal of your power, your Love, and your glory.

Most holy and desolate Mary leaves the Holy Sepulcher.

My sorrowful Mother, I see You prepare Yourself for your last sacrifice�having to bury your dead Son, Jesus. Resigned to the Will of Heaven, You accompany Him. With your own hands, You place Him in the sepulcher. While You arrange his limbs, You try to bid Him farewell and give Him a last kiss; but You feel your Heart wrenched from your breast for pain. Love nails you to those members. And by force of love and sorrow, your life is on the verge of being snuffed out, together with that of your lifeless Son.

Poor mother, what will you do without Jesus? He is your life, your all. Still, it is the Will of the Eternal One that wants it like this. You will have to struggle with two insurmountable powers: love, and the Divine Will. Love nails you in such a way that you cannot make the separation; the Divine Will imposes itself and wants the sacrifice...

Poor mother, how will you do it? How I sympathize with you! Please, angels of heaven, come and raise her from the rigid members of Jesus, otherwise she will die. Oh, what a miracle: while she seems to have died together with Jesus, I hear her voice, trembling and interrupted by sobs, which says:

�Son, beloved Son, this was the only comfort left to me, and it halved my pains: To unburden myself over these wounds of your most holy humanity, to adore them and kiss them. Now, even this is taken from me because this is what the Divine Will wants�and I resign myself to it. But know, O Son, that I want to do it but cannot. At the mere thought of doing it, my strength fades and life flees me. . . . O Son, please: In order to receive the strength and the life I need to make the bitter separation, permit me to leave my whole being buried in you and to take for myself your life, your pains, your reparations and all that you are. Yes, only an exchange of life between you and me can give me the strength to carry out the sacrifice of separating myself from you.�

My suffering mother, I see that with determination you again pass over those members. Resting your head on that of Jesus, you kiss it and enclose your thoughts in Jesus' head. You take for yourself his thorns, his afflicted and offended thoughts, and all that he has suffered in his most holy head.

Oh, how you would like to give life to Jesus' intelligence with yours, in order to give life for life! You already feel yourself coming to life again, for having taken the thoughts and the thorns of Jesus into your mind. Sorrowful mother, I see that you kiss Jesus' lifeless eyes. You are heart-broken to see that Jesus no longer looks at you.

How many times those divine eyes, looking at you, enraptured you and make you rise from death to life! Now, seeing that they no longer look at you, you feel yourself die. So, I see that you put your eyes in those of Jesus; and for yourself you take his eyes, his tears and the bitterness of his gaze which suffered so much, seeing the offenses of creatures and all the insults and their rejections of him. My transfixed mother, I see you kiss his most holy ears. You call him time and again, and say:

�My Son, is it possible that you no longer hear me�you who answered my every sigh, even the least? Now I weep and I call you� but you don't hear me? Yes: dear love is the most cruel tyrant! You were for me more than my very life. And now I will have to survive such pain! So, my Son, I leave my ears in yours, and I take for myself what your most holy ears have suffered: the echo of all the offense that resounded in yours. This alone can give me life: your pains, your sorrows.�

As you are saying this, the sorrow and the pangs of your heart are so intense that you become speechless and remain motionless. My poor mother, my poor mother, how I sympathize with you! How many cruel deaths you suffer! Sorrowful mother, the Divine Will imposes itself and gets you going. So you look at his most holy face, kiss it, and exclaim:

�Adorable Son, how disfigured you are! Yes, if love didn't show me that you are my Son, my life, my all, I wouldn't recognize you, for your unrecognizable state. Your natural beauty has been transformed into deformity. Your rosy cheeks have been changed into bruises. O beloved Son, your beautiful face that radiated light and grace�for to see you and remain ecstatic was one and the same thing�has been transformed into the pallor of death.

�Son, how you are reduced! What ugly work sin has done on your most holy members! Oh, how your inseparable mother would like to return your original beauty to you! I want to fuse my face in yours and take yours for me, as well as the blows, the spit, the ridicule and all that you suffered in your most holy face. Yes, Son, if you want me alive, give me your pains; otherwise I will die.�

Your sorrow is so intense that it suffocates you and cuts off your words; and you remain as if lifeless over Jesus' face.

Poor mother, how I sympathize with you! My angels, come to sustain my mother. Her sorrow is immense. It is flooding her and suffocating her. She has no life or strength left. But the Divine Will, tearing through these waves that are drowning her, returns life to her. Now you have come to his mouth. As you kiss it, you feel your lips embittered by the bitterness of the gall that so embittered Jesus' mouth. Sobbing, you continue:

�My Son, say one last word to your mother. Is it possible that I won't hear your voice any more? All your words you said to me in life, like so many arrows, strike my heart with sorrow and love. And now, seeing you silent, these arrows begin to move in my lacerated heart, giving me innumerable deaths; and it seems as though they want to steal one last word from you by force. But not receiving it, they torture me, and say to me: 'Well, you will not listen to him any more. You will no longer hear his sweet voice, the melody of his creative word which created as many paradises in you for as many words as he said.' Ah, my Paradise is finished, and I will have nothing but bitternesses! Yes, Son, I want to give you my tongue to give life to yours. Yes, give me everything you suffered in your most holy mouth: the bitterness of the gall, your burning thirst, your reparations and prayers. Then, by hearing your voice in the things you suffered, my sorrow will be more bearable, and your mother will be able to live by means of your pains.�

Tortured mother, I see that you hurry now, because those around you want to close the sepulcher. So you quickly pass over Jesus' hands, taking them in yours and kissing them. You press them to your heart; and putting your hands in his, you take the pains and the wounds of those most holy hands for yourself. Then, passing over Jesus' feet and looking at the cruel tears that the nails made in them, while you put yours in his and take those wounds for yourself, you offer yourself in Jesus' place to run after sinners and snatch them from hell. Grieved mother, now I see that you are saying your last good-by to Jesus' pierced heart. Here you stop. This is the last assault your maternal heart receives. You now feel it being torn from your breast by the intensity of love and of sorrow. And by itself it escapes and puts itself in the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus.

Seeing yourself without a heart, you hurry to take Jesus' Most Sacred Heart to yourself, as well as his love rejected by so many creatures, all his ardent desires frustrated by their ingratitude, and the sorrows and transfixions of that Most Sacred Heart which will have you crucified during your whole life. Looking at the gaping wound, you kiss it and lick the blood. And feeling Jesus' life in you, you feel the strength to make the bitter separation. So, you embrace him and permit the stone of the sepulcher to enclose him. My sorrowful mother, as I weep I pray you not to let Jesus be taken from our gaze for now. First, let me enclose myself in Jesus to take his life into me. If you, the immaculate one, the holy one, the full of grace, cannot live without Jesus, much less can I, who am weakness, misery, sinfulness itself. How could I live without Jesus?

Please, sorrowful mother, don't leave me alone. Take me with you. But first, put my whole being into Jesus. Empty me of everything to be able to put all Jesus into me, as you put him into yourself. Begin your maternal duty with me which Jesus gave you from the cross. Let your maternal heart be moved by my extreme poverty; and with your own maternal hands, enclose me totally, completely in Jesus. Enclose Jesus' thoughts in my mind so that no other thought will enter into me. Enclose Jesus' eyes in mine so that he may never escape from my view. Put his ears in mine so that I may always listen to him and fulfill his Most Holy Will in everything. Put his face in mine so that by looking at that face so disfigured for love of me, I may love him, give him compassion and make reparation to him. Put his tongue in mine so that I may speak, pray and teach with Jesus' tongue. Put his hands in mine so that every movement I make and every work I do may have life from Jesus' works and movements. Put his feet in mine so that every step I take may be life, salvation, strength and zeal for other creatures.

And now, my saddened mother, let me kiss his heart and lick his most precious blood. As you enclose his heart in mine, grant me the grace to live by his love, by his desires, by his pains. And now, take the rigid right hand of Jesus so that he may give me his last blessing with it. Now you permit the rock to enclose him. How agonizing it is for you! Weeping, you say your last good-by to him; and kissing the sepulcher, you leave it. Your sorrow is so immense that now you are petrified, now frozen. My transfixed mother, together with you I say good-by to Jesus. And weeping, I want to sympathize with you and keep you company in your bitter desolation. I want to remain by your side to give you a word of comfort and a compassionate gaze for every sigh, pang and sorrow of yours. I will gather up your tears; and if I see you fainting I will hold you in my arms.

Now I see you are obliged to return to Jerusalem by that same path on which you came. After just a few steps the cross already appears, on which Jesus suffered so much and then died. You run to it and kiss it. Seeing it stained with blood, the pains he suffered are on it are renewed in your heart one by one. Unable to contain your sorrow, sobbing, you exclaim:

�O cross! How is it that you were so cruel to my Son? No, you didn't spare him in anything! What wrong did he do to you? You didn't permit me, his sorrowful mother, to give him even a sip of water when he asked for it; and to his parched mouth you gave him gall and vinegar. I felt my transfixed heart liquefied, and would have liked to offer my melted heart to those lips to quench his thirst, but I received the sorrow of being rejected. Yes, O cross, you are cruel, but holy, because you were divinized and sanctified by your contact with my Son. Change that cruelty you used with him into compassion for miserable mortals. And for the pains he suffered on you, plead grace and strength for suffering souls, so that no one may be lost because of trials and crosses. Souls cost me too much. They cost me the life of a Son-God. And as Co-redemptrix and mother, I bind them to you, O cross.�

You kiss the cross over and over, and then continue on. Poor mother, how I sympathize with you! At every step and encounter, new sorrows arise, which become more immense and more bitter. They are overwhelming and submerging you like waves, and so you feel death at every instant. A few steps more, and you come to that point where this morning you met Jesus, exhausted and streaming blood, under the enormous weight of the cross. He had a bunch of thorns on his head, which, striking the cross, went deeper and deeper, giving him mortal pains at every movement. Meeting your eyes, Jesus' eyes sought pity; but to deprive you and Jesus of this relief, the soldiers pushed him and made him fall, causing him to shed new blood.

And now, seeing the ground soaked with it, you prostrate yourself on the ground and kiss that blood, saying:

�My angels, come and keep guard over this blood so that not a single drop will be trampled on and profaned.�

Sorrowful mother, let me give you my hand to raise you up and comfort you, because I see that you are agonizing in Jesus' blood. As you walk on, you find new pains. You see traces of blood everywhere and recall his sufferings, so you quicken your pace and enclose yourself in the cenacle. I too enclose myself in the cenacle�the cenacle of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. From within this heart I want to come upon your maternal knees to keep you company in this hour of bitter desolation. I don't have the heart to leave you alone in so much sorrow.

Desolate mother, look at this little child of yours. I am too little to live by myself. Neither can I nor do I want to. So, take me on you knees, clasp me in your arms and mother me, for I need guidance, help and support. Look at my misery and shed a tear on my wounds. When you see me distracted, press me to your maternal heart and call Jesus' life back into me.

But while I am praying to you, I am compelled to stop and turn my attention to your bitter sorrows. I feel myself pierced, seeing that as you move your head you feel the thorns which you have taken from Jesus sinking deeper. Together with the thorns of all our sins of thought, they even prick your eyes, causing you to weep tears mingled with blood. As you weep, having Jesus' vision in your eyes, there pass before your sight all the offenses of creatures. Oh, how embittered you are by them! How well you understand what Jesus suffered, having his own pains in yourself! But one pain doesn't wait for the next. As you listen intently, your ears are deafened by the echo of the voices of creatures. Each kind of offensive voice of the creature, passing from your ears and penetrating into your heart, pierces it; and you repeat your refrain: �Son, how you have suffered!�

Desolate mother, how I sympathize with you! Let me wipe your face bathed in tears and blood. But I fall back, seeing it all covered with bruises, unrecognizable and pale with a deathly pallor. I understand: These are the ill-treatments Jesus received, which you have taken for your own, that make you suffer so much. Yes, as you move your lips to pray or to emit sighs from your inflamed breast, you feel your breath embittered and your lips burned by Jesus' thirst.

My poor mother, how I sympathize with you! Your sorrows increase ever more, and they seem to give a hand to each other. Taking your hands in mine, I see them pierced by the nails. It is in these same hands that you feel the pain of seeing the homicides, the betrayals, the sacrileges and all the evil works which repeat the blows, enlarging the wounds and making them ever more painful.

How I sympathize with you! You are the true crucified mother, such that not even your feet remain without nails. What is more, you not only feel them nailed, but torn as well by so many evil steps, and by the souls that are going toward hell. And you run after them so that they may not fall into the infernal flames. But this is still not everything, O nailed mother. All your pains, joining together, echo in your heart and pierce it not with seven swords, but with thousands and thousands of swords�especially since you have the divine heart of Jesus in you, which encloses all hearts and encompasses the heartbeats of everyone in itself. And that divine heartbeat, as it beats, says, Souls! Love! With the heartbeat, Souls, you feel all sins flowing in your heartbeat, and you feel you are being given death. In the heartbeat, Love, you feel life being given to you. And so you are in the continual alternation of death and life.

Crucified mother, as I look at you I sympathize with you in your sorrows. How inexpressible they are! I would like to change my being into tongue and voice, to sympathize with you. But before so many pains my sympathies are nothing. So, I call the angels and the Most Holy Trinity, praying them to put their harmonies, contentments and beauty around you, to soothe you and to sympathize with your intense sorrows. I pray them to sustain you in their arms and to give you love in exchange for all your pains. And now, desolate mother, I thank you in everyone's name for all that you have suffered. By this bitter desolation, I pray you to come and assist me at the hour of my death. When my poor soul will find itself alone and abandoned by everyone, among a thousand anxieties and fears, come then to give me the company that I gave you so many times in life. Come to assist me, be by my side and send the enemy away. Wash my soul with your tears. Cover me with Jesus' blood and dress me with his merits. Beautify me with your sorrows and all of Jesus' pains and works. In virtue of his pains and your sorrows, make all sins disappear from me, giving me forgiveness for them all. As I breathe my last breath, receive me in your arms, put me under your mantle and hide me from the eyes of the enemy. Take me away, in flight, to heaven and put me into Jesus' arms.

My dear mother, you agree to do this, don't you? And now, I pray you to return the company I have given you today, to all those who are dying in this moment. Mother them all. These are extreme moments and great helps are needed, so don't deny your maternal offices to anyone.

One last word as I leave you: I pray you to enclose me in Jesus' Most Sacred Heart. And you, O my sorrowful mother, be my sentinel so that Jesus may not cast me out of his heart, and so that even if I should want to, I may not leave it. Now I kiss your maternal hand and ask you to bless me.

Prayer of Thanksgiving after Each Hour

Christ's Passion Hour from 3 p.m. to 4 p.m.

The 24 Hours of the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Christ's Passion Hour from 2 p.m. to 3 p.m.

Preparation Prayer Before Each Hour

Christ's Passion Hour from 4 p.m. to 5 p.m.

From 3 p m. to 4 p.m.
Dead Jesus is transfixed by the lance and taken down from the cross.

My dead Jesus, all of nature lets out a cry of anguish and�recognizing You as its Creator�weeps over your sorrowful death. Thousands upon thousands of angels hover around the Cross to mourn your death. They adore You as true God and accompany You to Limbo, where You go to beatify the countless souls who have been lying in that dark dungeon since the dawn of the ages.

My dead Jesus, I do not know how to separate myself from the Cross. Nor do I tire of continuously kissing your most sacred wounds which speak so eloquently of your love for me. As I look at your frightful gashes and see one by one the bones exposed by your deep wounds�I feel myself dying. I would like to weep over these wounds until I wash them with my tears. I would like to love You so much that my love would be like a precious ointment to heal You completely and restore the natural beauty of your disfigured Humanity. I would like to empty my veins to fill your empty veins with my blood and restore You to life.

My Life, my Jesus, is there anything that Love cannot do? Love is life�and, with my love, I want to give You life. And if my love does not suffice, give me your Love�and with your Love I will be able to do everything. Yes, I will be able to give life to your Most Holy Humanity. I cry and fly into a frenzy, mourning the death of my crucified Jesus.

But while I cry for my Jesus, my heart leaps in my chest and goes into fits of joy as I see that�even after death�You, my gentle Jesus, want to express and confirm your love for me, providing me with a shelter and a refuge into your very Heart. For this reason, then�moved by a supreme force to prove your death�a soldier pierces your Heart with a lance, opening a deep wound. And You, my Love, pour out the last drops of Blood and water that your enflamed Heart contains. Ah, how many things this wound�opened by your love, not by pain!�tells me. If your lips are silent, your Heart speaks to me, and I hear It say:

�My child, after I had given everything, I wanted this lance to open in my Heart a refuge for all souls. Once opened, my Heart will cry out continuously to everyone, �Come to Me if you wish to be saved. In this Heart you will find sanctity. It will make you holy and you will find comfort in hardships, strength in weakness, peace in doubts, and companionship in abandonment.�

Then your voice becomes stronger, saying: O souls who love Me, if you really wish to love Me, come to dwell always in this Heart. Here you will find true Love with which to love Me. Here you will find ardent flames to burn and consume you completely in my Love. The tiniest exits from this Heart shall deprive you of many graces and make you unlike me. Everything is centered in this Heart. Here you will find the Sacraments, my Church, and the life of the Church and of all souls. In my Heart, I even feel the desecrations that are done to my Church. I sense the plots of her enemies, the arrows they launch at her, the sufferings of my oppressed children and the blood that they will shed�because there is no offense that this Heart of mine does not feel. So, my child, live your life in this Heart, shelter yourself behind its doors and defend Me, make reparation to Me, and bring everyone to Me.

My Love, if a lance has wounded your Heart for me, with your hands I also beg You to wound my heart, my affections, my desires, and my whole being. May nothing remain in me that is not wounded by your Love. I unite everything to the excruciating agony of our dear Mother, who�because of the agony she feels on seeing your Heart torn open�collapses from love and sorrow. Like a dove, She flies into your Heart to take the first place�to be the first Reparatrix�and You establish her as the Queen of your very Heart, and the Mediatrix between You and creatures. I fly with my Mother into your Heart to hear how She makes reparation and how She repeats her reparations for the offenses that You receive. By the power of this wound and of your sorrowful Mother, I beg You to enclose everyone in your most beloved Heart�to protect, defend and enlighten the rulers of your Church.

O my Jesus, after your agonizing and most sorrowful death, it seems just that I should no longer have a life of my own. Rather, I will find my life once more in your wounded Heart�so that, whatever I do, I will always depend on your divine Heart. No longer will I give life to my thoughts�but if they should want Life, I will take it from Yours. My will shall no longer have life�but if it wants Life, I will take it from your Most Holy Will. And my love will no longer have life�but if it wants Life, I will take It from your Love.

O my Jesus, your whole Life is mine! This is your Will�and this is my will also. My dead Jesus, I see that they hasten to remove You from the Cross. Your disciples John and Nicodemus who were in hiding, now come forward courageously and fearlessly to give You an honorable burial. They use hammers and pliers to complete the sad, sacred removal of your Body from the Cross�a scene too sorrowful for your Mother�s pierced Heart! At each blow of the hammer and at each sound of the pliers pulling the nails, She trembles and her pierced Heart shudders. And, moaning, She says, �My Son, My Son!�,� and She holds out her motherly arms to receive You in her lap. My Jesus, as they remove the nails, I also want to help hold your Most Holy Body. I want to take the nails that they remove from You, and fix them in my heart as a constant reminder of your most bitter Passion. I want to be nailed completely to You with the same nails that crucified You. And while I am helping to place You in the lap of your Holy Mother, I want to hug Her and support Her.

And, with your Holy Mother, I want to adore You, to kiss You, and then to enclose myself in your Heart, never to leave.

Reflections and Practices.

With the lancing of His side, Jesus is removed from the cross. It seems that humiliations ceased and victories began for Jesus after He died. But is my life such that, even after I am dead, it could be a call for souls and a spur that could lead them toward the good? In order to commit myself more to loving Jesus, in all my words and actions, in all the sorrows I might endure, I will believe that my word will continue to live in others to glorify the Lord, that He may be understood and loved even more. If my works will be a call spurring the works of other creatures and directing them to Jesus, if my steps will push their steps toward Jesus, if my pains will be the patience of all the creatures, ensuring that they all follow the will of Jesus, then, once I am in Heaven, everything I did on earth shall continue to live amongst the creatures. Therefore, the love I had on earth for Jesus, and my love for Him when I am in Heaven, shall join together. O would that all this love, powerful as a magnet, could transport everyone to Heaven!

After his death, Jesus wanted to be pierced with a lance for Love of us. And do I permit Jesus� Love to wound me in all that I do, or do I allow myself to be wounded by the love of creatures, pleasures, and my own self-love? Even coldness, darkness, and internal and external mortifications are wounds that the Lord gives to souls. But if we do not accept them as coming from God�s hands, we accept them from the hands of creatures and they wound us or we wound ourselves. And our wounds and those of creatures are our passions, our weaknesses, our self-exaltation�in a word, matter. However, if we accept them as wounds inflicted by loving Jesus, He will place in these wounds his Love, his virtues, and his likeness, which will then earn for us his kisses, his tender caresses, and all the counsels of Divine Love. These wounds will act as continuous voices to call Him and to require Him to dwell with us constantly. We shall say to Him: �You wounded me, now heal me.�

O, my Jesus, may your lance be the guard that defends me from all the wounds of creatures.

Jesus lets Himself be removed from the Cross, and placed in the arms of his Mother. If my Jesus deprives me of his presence, of his sensible grace, do I find shelter in the lap of our sweet Mother, begging Her to reveal Jesus to me? Do I place in my Mother�s hands all my fears, doubts and longings? Jesus rested on the lap of his divine Mother. Do I allow Jesus to rest in my lap or do I disturb his rest with my fears and unrest?

My Mother, with your sweet motherly hands remove everything from my heart that could keep Jesus from resting in me.

Prayer of Thanksgiving after Each Hour

Christ's Passion Hour from 2 p.m. to 3 p.m.

The 24 Hours of the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Christ's Passion Hour from 1 p.m. to 2 p.m.

Preparation Prayer Before Each Hour

Christ's Passion Hour from 3 p.m. to 4 p.m.

From 2 p.m. to 3 p.m.
Third Hour of Agony on the Cross. Fifth, sixth and seventh word.

The fifth word:

� I am thirsty! �

My crucified, dying Jesus, embracing the cross, I feel the fire that is burning all your most holy person. Your heart pounds so violently that it heaves your ribs, tormenting you in such an agonizing and horrible way that all your most holy humanity undergoes a transformation which makes you unrecognizable. The love with which your heart is ablaze parches and burns you. Unable to contain it, you feel the intense torment not only of the physical thirst for the shedding of all your blood, but much more, that of the burning thirst for the health of our souls. You would like to drink us as water to bring us all to safety in yourself. So, gathering your faded strength, you cry:

�I am thirsty!�

Yes, you repeat these words to every heart:

�I am thirsty for your will, for your affections, for your desires, for your love. You could not give me any water cooler and more refreshing than your soul. Please, don't make me burn. I am burning with thirst, for which I not only feel my tongue and my throat burning�such that I can no longer utter a word�but I also feel my heart and my organs drying up. Have pity on my thirst! Have pity!� Delirious, as it were, for the immense thirst, you abandon yourself to the Will of the Father.

No, my heart cannot go on living like this: I see the wickedness of your enemies, who, instead of water, give you gall and vinegar�which you do not refuse. Yes, I understand: It is the gall of so many sins; it is the vinegar of our untamed passions that they want to give you, which, instead of relieving you, make you burn even more.

O my Jesus, here are my heart, my thoughts, my affections. Here is my whole being, for you to quench your thirst and to refresh your dry and embittered mouth. All that I am and all that I have is for you, O my Jesus. If my pains are necessary in order to save even a single soul, here I am. I am ready to suffer everything. I offer myself entirely to you, to do with me as you please. I intend to make reparation for the pain you suffer for all the souls that are lost, and for the pain those souls give you, that, while you permit them sadness and abandonment, instead of offering them to you in relief of the burning thirst that devours you, they lose heart and so make you suffer more.

The sixth word:

� It is consummated! �.

My dying Jesus, the unending ocean of your pains, the fire that consumes you, and more than all this, the Supreme Will of the Father that wants you to die, no longer permit us to hope that you can continue to live. How will I be able to live without you? Your strength is already gone, your eyes are glazed, your face is transformed and veiled with deathly paleness. Your mouth is half-open, and your breath is labored and interrupted, such that there is no longer any hope that you can revive. To the fire that burns you, there follows a chill and a cold sweat that wets your forehead. The muscles and the nerves contract ever more for the harshness of the pains and for the transfixion of the nails, while the wounds tear still more. I tremble, and feel myself dying. O my good Jesus, I look at you and see the last tears trickling from your eyes as the forerunners of your approaching death, while with great effort you say still another word:

�It is consummated!�

O my Jesus, you have now exhausted everything. You have nothing left. Love has reached its end.

And what about me: Am I entirely consumed for your love? How grateful I must be to you! O my Jesus, I intend to make reparation for everyone. I intend to make reparation for the lack of correspondence to your love, and to console you for the affronts you receive from creatures while you are consuming yourself for love of us on the cross.

The seventh word:

� Father, into your hands I commend my spirit! �

My crucified, dying Jesus, you are about to breathe the last breath of your mortal life. Your most holy humanity is already rigid, and it seems your heart is no longer beating; if I hear a heartbeat, it is so faint that I am not sure You are dead, and I cry and rant. Could my Life really have died? With Mary Magdalene, I embrace your feet; and if it were possible, I would like to give my life to animate yours. Meanwhile, O Jesus, I see you open your dying eyes again, and look around the cross as if you wanted to say your last good�by to everyone. You look at your dying mother who is motionless and speechless for the pains she feels, and say:

�Good-by, mother. I am leaving, but I will keep you in my heart. Take care of my children and yours.�

You look at weeping Mary Magdalene and faithful John, and say to them with your gaze: �Good-bye�. You look at your very enemies with love, saying to them with your gaze: �I forgive you; I give you the kiss of peace.� Nothing escapes your gaze. You forgive everyone and say good-by to all. Then, gathering all your strength, with a powerful and resonant voice you cry:

�Father, into your hands I commend my spirit!�

And bowing your head, you die...

My Jesus, at this cry all nature is upset and weeps over your death�the death of its Creator. The earth quakes violently and with its tremor seems to be weeping, wanting to shake souls to make them recognize you as true God. The veil of the Temple is torn; the dead rise; and the sun, which, until now has wept over your pains, is horrified and withdraws its light. At this cry, your enemies fall on their knees, beat their breast, and declare: �Truly he is the Son of God!� Your petrified and dying mother suffers pains harder than death. My dead Jesus, with this cry you put all of us as well into the hands of the Father so that he won't reject us. So, you not only cry out with your voice, but with all your pains and with the voices of your blood as well:

�Father, into your hands I place my spirit and all souls.�

My Jesus, I too abandon myself in you. Give me the grace to die completely, in your love and in your Will. I pray you never to permit me, neither in life nor in death, to go out of your Most Holy Will. Meanwhile, I intend to make reparation for all those who do not abandon themselves perfectly to your Most Holy Will, thus losing or diminishing the precious fruit of your redemption. What sorrow your heart feels, O my Jesus, to see so many creatures escape from your arms and become disheartened! O my Jesus, in these last moments, call all souls around You, press them to your Heart, while I come out of It and go over your wounds with my last kisses, asking your forgiveness once more, and promising to always love You here on earth, and never to offend You again.

My Jesus, I kiss your Head crowned with thorns. I ask your pardon for my so many thoughts of pride, ambition and self-esteem. I promise You that every time a thought comes to me that is not all for You, my Jesus�and I find myself on the verge of offending You� I will cry immediately: �Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to You!�

O Jesus, I kiss your beautiful eyes still bathed in tears and covered with clotted blood. I ask you to forgive me all the times I have offended you with evil and immodest gazes. I promise that whenever my eyes are brought to look at things of the earth, I will cry immediately, �Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!�

O my Jesus, I kiss your most sacred ears, deafened right to the last moments by insults and horrible blasphemies. I ask forgiveness for all the times I have listened to, or have made others listen to, conversations that draw us away from you, and for so many evil conversations spoken by creatures. I promise that every time I find myself in the occasion of hearing unnecessary conversations, I will cry immediately, �Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!�

O my Jesus, I kiss your most holy face, pale, bruised and covered with blood. I ask you to forgive the countless scoffings, affront and insults you receive from us, such vile creatures, with our sins. I promise that every time I am tempted not to give all glory, love and adoration to you, I will cry immediately,�Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!�

O my Jesus, I kiss your most sacred mouth, parched and embittered. You have already breathed your last breath, and as I approach You, I see your mouth all parched and embittered. I ask forgiveness for all the times I have offended you with evil conversations, adding to your bitterness and increasing your thirst. I promise that whenever the thought comes to me to say things that could offend you, I will cry immediately, �Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!�

O my Jesus, I kiss your most holy neck. I still see the marks of the chains and the ropes that oppressed you. I ask your forgiveness for so many bonds and so many attachments of creatures, which added ropes and chains to your most sacred neck. I promise that whenever I feel troubled by attachments, desires or affections that are not for you, I will cry immediately, �Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!�

My Jesus, I kiss your most holy back. As you lay nailed to the Cross, I can easily see the how they mangled your most holy Body! How deep are your wounds and how they hurt, made worse as they are by the cold! I ask you pardon for so many illicit satisfactions and for so many sins committed with all five senses of our body. I promise that every time the thought comes to me to take some pleasure or satisfaction which is not for your glory, I will cry immediately, �Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!�

My Jesus, I kiss your most holy chest. I ask you pardon for so many illicit satisfactions and for so many sins committed with all five senses of our body. I promise that every time the thought comes to me to take some pleasure or satisfaction which is not for your glory, I will cry immediately, �Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!�

My Jesus, I kiss your most holy chest. I ask you to forgive so much cold-heartedness, indifference, lukewarmness and horrible ingratitude which you receive from creatures. I promise that whenever I feel myself growing cold in your love I will cry immediately, �Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!�

My Jesus, I kiss your most sacred hands. They contain all of our works, and you with your holy Works expiate ours with your most bitter and suffering sorrows. I ask you forgiveness for all the evil and indifferent works, and for so many acts ruined by self�love or self-esteem. I promise that whenever the thought come to me not to work only for your love, I will cry immediately, �Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!�

O my Jesus, I kiss your most holy feet. I ask you pardon for so many steps and for so many ways trodden without the right intention, and for so many who go away from you, in search of the pleasures of the earth. I promise that whenever the thought comes to me to go away from you, I will cry immediately, �Jesus and Mary, I commend my soul to you!�

O Jesus, I kiss your most Sacred Heart and as I do so, I enclose myself in It. These are the final instants of your mortal life, and you would like to gather all souls in your hand and take them with You. But, Jesus mine, as I enclose myself within your Heart, I take first place in It, and together with your Love, your suffering and your Will, I intend to enclose in It all the souls that You have redeemed, so that everyone may be saved, excluding none.

O Jesus, nothing is denied in one�s last moments. As you are about to draw your last breath, I ask you the grace to allow me to die with You, or at least to grant me your Heart as my chamber, your Blood as my drink, all of You as my food�otherwise how could I live without You? O Jesus, enclose me in your Heart and close the doors for me so that I may see nothing but You. I promise You that every time I am tempted to leave your Sacred Heart, I will immediately cry out, �Jesus and Mary, I give You my heart and my soul!�

Reflections and Practices.

Jesus is consumed with thirst. His tongue is parched, as if so great a thirst had changed it into a tongue of fire. And can I say that I am consumed with love for Jesus? Do I have a burning thirst for Jesus? Do my thoughts and affections always seek to refresh Him in his ardent thirst? Or do I thirst for material things?

Many times the will asks souls, but at that point their desires turn elsewhere, even toward good things�but things that appeal to their own self-interest. As these are not in harmony with the will, the will remains alone. And, not being able to harmonize with the desires and affections, it cannot weave a web of influences around Jesus in such a way as to oblige Him to pledge and concede what the will desires. And when this web is not complete, it is impossible for souls to face the Divine Justice. To be able to complete this web of influences perfectly, above all I will place myself in Jesus Christ, and then I will multiply myself in each drop of his Blood, in each one of his pains and prayers, so that Justice may find its complete support. Then I will pour myself into all creatures, touching their drops of blood with drops of the Blood of Jesus, the sores in their souls with the sores of Jesus, to heal them. I will touch their sorrows with those of Jesus, that they may draw comfort. I will multiply myself in each and every offense, offering an act of reparation for each one of them.

With Jesus� voices I will cry into every heart, that I may bring all of them to Him, and weaving myself into Jesus, and into all creatures, my cordon will be complete. I will place it around Jesus, that his Divine Justice may find complete fulfillment and satisfaction. And, daringly, I will disarm his Justice, and I will ask his Justice for souls, and He will not be able to deny them to me, because all Justice is satisfied in Jesus. The Lord wants all souls to be saved, but also wants the claims of Justice to be secure. When Justice finds satisfaction in souls, it gives up its claims and saves souls. Thus, the fire grows only when there is complete agreement in our interior; our steadfastness in being good nourishes the fire and makes us bold with that Divine Heart, imploring what He himself wants.

O, thirst of souls! Can I say that you are my predominant passion? And if you are not, it means that I am not entirely united to you. My agonizing Jesus, pour your thirst into me, that I may become a tongue of fire like You. Jesus thirsts, and, unable to endure the thirst that consumes Him, He says, All is consummated. Then Jesus is completely consumed for us. Do I make every effort in all that I do to be continuously consumed for love of Jesus? Or do I let something seep into me that could frustrate the consummation between myself and Jesus? Every thought, word, and deed of Jesus brought Him to his consummation. Does my every thought, word, and deed work together to prod me to consume myself for love of Jesus? In Jesus, everything was boundless: the glances, the words, the suffering. And as in Jesus, so in us also everything should be boundless in our love for Him.

Each additional act that my Jesus did was a consummation that He offered to his Father, and then gave to us. Can we say that each one of our acts is an act of consummation on behalf of Jesus? We want to send our sufferings flying over the Cross of Jesus, to keep company with his sufferings, and that He may share his fire with us. And while our sufferings keep Jesus company and are crucified with Him, we shall say to Him: �Jesus, I want to repeat your acts, I want my sufferings to increase in value through your very own sufferings, and I want them to fulfill the same duty that you discharged on the Cross toward your Father and toward all souls.�

Jesus will be so happy that He will transform his pain into ours, will give us the same effects, and in a sort of sweet enchantment will pull our heart close to His, and find relief for his pains in ours, so that, as I suffer, I hasten to send my sufferings on the Cross to Jesus. And may He, in turn, enraptured by my suffering, find succor in them. Often, when we must attend to material chores that are supposedly necessary, such as work, rest, or taking food, it seems as if the consummation that Jesus still requires of us is interrupted. To remedy this, I shall say to Him: �See, O Jesus, while I am attending to these human chores, I protest because I want to go about them joined to yours, be consumed just as You are consumed, thus forming between You and me so many binding links. May the breath of your consummation blow into my being, and consume both of us. And while I am busy I place my being upon your burning flames that rise, and if they see that I am interrupting the consummation between You and me, may these flames burn and consume me together with You.�

When pain takes hold of us, when we are mortified or sad, or, especially, when it seems that life would flee from us�it is especially in these junctures that we must join our consummation to that of Jesus Christ. But do we do it? Or do we divert God�s desires away from us? When we suffer, we must think that Jesus is giving us suffering to form his consummation inside of us. Because he wants to give us his form, and because He is good, He kindly places sorrows in our heart. And as our soul receives them, we must think that good Jesus is consuming all of his being to make Himself live again in us. Thus Jesus destroys our material being, to form his image in us. In the suffering that burdens us, we take the same divine consummation and make it ours; we offer it to Him until nothing of ours is left: none of our thoughts, turmoil, anxiety, or disorders�for when the soul keeps these anxious vigils, it prevents a true consummation, forming as it were, a split flame. Every pain is a flame that destroys, and in consuming our being it makes divine life be reborn in us.

O Jesus, my sweet life, may your expended breath always breathe in my poor heart so that I may receive the imprint of your consummation.

On the Cross, Jesus accomplishes the Will of the Father in everything and, with a perfect act of abandonment into his most holy Will, He takes his last breath. Do I accomplish the Will of God in everything? Am I perfectly abandoned to his Will, accomplishing it in his very arms, as if I wanted to make Jesus� Will and the Father�s Will my own? Do I let myself go irrespective of whether something good or bad happens to me? Do I remain content with the mere assurance that I am abandoned into his most holy arms? Do I continuously die to myself for love of Jesus? Can I say that while living that I no longer live, that I am dead to everything for the sake of living solely for the interest of Jesus and not for my own? In other words, do the things I think, desire, love, and do remind me of living for Jesus, so that in Him I may put to death my words, my steps, my desires, and my thoughts?

O my Jesus, may my death be a continuous death for your love, and may every death I undergo be a life that I long to give to every soul.

Prayer of Thanksgiving after Each Hour