While your body almost collapses and is not up to carrying that heavy weight of the cross, your eye glows with a holy fire, for it beholds the throne of the king who is not of this world and on which it is desired you be raised with four clumsy nails.
The tree of the cross has been planted. The altar on which the holy sacrifice will be consumed is ready. O God, how can I look on what is about to happen?
On a threshing floor, the fail of sin has threshed the Holy Wheat and broken the chaff.
You have picked yourself up again, and with the last exertion of strength, drag yourself to the place of the frightful crowning of your already such frightful torment.
Helpless you stand there, my God. You have gotten up from your fall, but your feet refuse to serve you, now that your shoulders again have that heavy weight to carry.
O Jesus, you have arrived but, alas, at the cost of your last strength. The journey is over; exhausted, you fall full length upon the ground. You have sacrificed your very last ounce of strength for us.
The executioners pull Jesus upright and, half propping him up so that he does not fall, they seize the bleeding body with tough hands in order, with the others, to pull off the garment that sticks to the wounds and to keep it for themselves as desirable booty.
Veronica, you went in search of your Beloved. He was near you but your eyes no longer recognized his likeness. Yet your eyes met the glance of his eyes, and they appealed to you.
My God, you can go no farther. Even walking under the cross, which strong arms make lighter, is too much for you. The cross weighs on your shoulders.
In our meditation we will follow reflections of Blessed Titus Brandsma on the Stations of the Cross.