kidron 2

But, O my Jesus, we are now at the Cedron stream...

and the perfidious Jews prepare to throw You into it. 

They make You bump against a rock which is there, with such violence as to make You shed most precious Blood from your mouth, with which You mark that rock! Then, pulling You, they cast You down into those putrid [verrot] waters, in such a way that these enter into your ears, into your mouth, into your nostrils. Oh, unreachable love, You remain inundated and as though wrapped by those putrid, nauseating and cold waters. 

In this way, You represent, vividly, the heart-rending [hartverscheurende] state of creatures when they commit sin! Oh, how they remain covered, inside and out, by a mantle of filth, such as to be disgusting to Heaven and to whomever can see them, therefore attracting the lightnings of Divine Justice upon themselves! 

Oh, Life of my life, can there ever be greater love? 

In order to remove from us this mantle of filth, You allow your enemies to throw You into this stream, and You suffer everything to repair for the sacrileges and the coldness of the souls who receive You sacrilegiously, and who, more than the stream, force You to enter into their hearts, and to make You feel all of their nausea! 

You also permit that these waters penetrate deep into your bowels. So much so, that the enemies, fearing that You may be drowned, in order to spare You for greater torments, lift You up. But You are so disgusting that they themselves, feel nausea in touching You.

My tender Jesus, You are now out of the stream. 

My heart cannot bear seeing You so wettened by those nauseating waters. 

I see You shivering from head to foot because of the cold. 

You look around, searching with your eyes, what You cannot do with your voice, for one at least who would dry You, clean You and warm You. But, in vain – no one is moved to pity for You. The enemies mock You and deride You. Your own have abandoned You. Your sweet Mama is far away, because the Father so disposes...

Here I am, O Jesus - come into my arms. 

I want to cry so much as to form a bath for You in order to wash You... 

clean You, and with my hands, fix your hair, which is all disheveled [in de war]. 

My love, I want to enclose You in my heart to warm You with the warmth of my affections. I want to perfume You with my holy desires. I want to repair for all these offenses, and place my life together with Yours, in order to save all souls.

I want to offer You my heart as a place of rest. 

To be able to somehow relieve You from the pains... 

You have suffered up to now. 

And then, we will continue together...

the way of your Passion.

[Passie, 1-2u]