Through
these sacred wounds we can see the secret of his heart, the great mystery of
love, the sincerity of his mercy with which he visited us from on high. Where
have your love, your mercy, your
compassion shone out more luminously than in your wounds, sweet, gentle Lord of
mercy? More mercy than this no one has than that he lay down his life for those
who are doomed to death.
My
merit comes from his mercy; for I do not lack merit so long as he does not lack
pity. And if the Lord’s mercies are many, then I am rich in merits. For even if
I am aware of many sins, what does it matter? Where sin abounded grace has
overflowed. And if the Lord’s mercies are from all ages forever, I too will
sing of the mercies of the Lord forever. Will I not sing of my own
righteousness? No, Lord, I shall be mindful only of your justice. Yet that too
is my own; for God has made you my righteousness.
Photograph by Brother Brian of a
bas-relief of the 13th Station by Suzanne Nicolas in the east
cloister of the Abbey. Lines from Saint Bernard, Sermons on the Canticle, 61.