The mourning-ring, in memory of your departed friend ...

Sect. 26. Christ's Bed among the Olives.

THere is no more effectual Comfort to a sick Man than that Bed of Christ in the Shades of Olivet. But Oh! 'tis very hard and full of pain. Behold and attend. No sooner was Christ entered into the Garden, but he began to fear, look pale, be troubled, groan, display his sadness, confess his heaviness, betray his Anguish in his Countenance, to desire Companions in his watching and his pray∣ers, often to go and return to and fro from his Com∣pany, yet no comfort or quiet could he find. And then behold again how he falls upon his Knees, how he intreats the wrathful Father, how he in∣terrupts his words with sighs, and begs that the Cup may be removed, yet not desiring his own, but the will of the Father to be done. How he wi∣ped off the trickling Sweat from his bloody Cheeks. In this Fatal Bed of Earth, O Spectacle to be be∣wailed of Men! Even to be lamented by the Angels themselves. And his Sweat was like drops of Blood trickling down to the ground. Thus Christ wept and lamented with his whole Body; the Tears and those bloody ones burst forth every where. Such haste did the Divine Love make to our Salvation, that by Bands seemed to him to be delayed, the Scourge and Pill•…•…r to be tardy, and the Thorns and Nails to tarry too long; the very Cross it self

seemed to be deferred. So God loved the World. O immense Love, for the fulfilling whereof, one Death was not enough, which before Death, cau∣sed Life it self to die; so that the most Loving Je∣sus, was constrained to perish Limb by Limb, to consume Drop by Drop, and by the slow distilling of his Blood to breath out his Soul several ways: And yet he loved more, than he suffered; and more he desired to endure, than Humane Nature was able to bear. Death seemed to him the slight∣est of his Punishments, nor was it enough for him to die once in Golgotha, unless he had died before in Gethseman. It had been a small thing for him to have expired between Thieves, had he not reaked before with bloody Sweat, to shew how he had been Scourged. O Christ! As yet the Roman Executioner does not appear, the hooked Wyre does not yet tear thy Flesh. The great Nails are not yet driven through thy Hands and Feet, and yet already such plentiful Fountains of Blood flow from thee. What will become of thee to Mor∣row, when thy whole Body shall be but one Pool, one continued Wound? To day only Rivers, to Morrow Seas of Blood will flow, and this little Bed among the Olives will seem soft in respect of that cruel and severe Lodging upon the Cross.

In either of these, O my sick Friend, lay thy self down, and thou wilt presently feel ease from all thy pains. Thou wilt easily bear thy own, when thou considerest the Torments of thy Lord.

Notes

• Luke 22. v. 44.