To see the Cross is to see Life. To come to the Cross is to come to Life. And yet why do I run from Life? Why am I so afraid of Life; why do I embrace Death? Oh sweet Death that comes to me by my mouth, my eyes, my ears, my nose, my hands and my feet! What manner of master are you that the slave loves the chains keeping him in bondage? And yet the sweetness soon turns bitter, and while once the chain was as a melodious chord, now it is yanked and one is dragged in the mire.
The lamps have gone out, their oil spent foolishly. The walls are in disrepair. The watchman has fallen asleep at his post, leaving the roaring lion to have free rein, prowling about. How long, O Lord, how long, will you leave the temple of my heart in abandon? Arise, oh my soul, awaken from your slumber! The Lord is coming, and shall not long delay! He is coming from the East, to enlighten your eyes! Your Saviour is coming, and He shall build up the walls again – open wide the gates!
Lord, that I may not fear the Cross. That the Life-giving Wood may be as a plough on this stony heart of mine. Work this arid soil, O Lord, that it may be found a worthy temple as that virginal womb which saw You come into this world; rain down on it your mercy and grace, that it may see You finally come to dwell therein.