Chapter 8: Of the crying of the Infant Jesus

I BLESS You, and give thanks to You, O Lord Jesus Christ, Joy of Angels, Comforter of the sad at heart, for Your infant crying and tears, wherewith You did sorrowfully mourn over the sins of the sons of Adam.

O thing of wonder, O surpassing condescension, that He Who is very God should cry in a cradle as a helpless babe; that He, to Whom in Heaven Angels sing praise, should, as one subject to death, hang upon a Mother's breasts; that He Who sustains and gives food to all flesh, Who makes the clouds to thunder, and the rain to water the earth, should be held by the hand, and be carried about as a helpless child!

How is that which is highest joined with that which is lowest, that which is of man with that which is of God!

It was to wash me from my iniquity that, as an Infant, You did weep; it was over my sins that Your tears were shed. Therefore, O my Lord and my God, I owe You more for the sorrows, by which You did redeem me, than for that mighty working by which You did create me. How ought I not to bewail my sins, since You, O Lord, did weep so constantly over them! How grievous must have been the wounds of my soul, when the tears which You did shed over them were so many!

And yet there is nothing strange or wondrous in the thought that You, Who came down from heaven to shed Your precious Blood to wash us from our sins, should shed tears of pity for them.

I praise You, therefore, my beloved Jesus, and I will never cease to praise You, for the love and for the pity You have shown to me, a miserable sinner.