When I think of how wrong I was, I grow

When I think of how wrong I was, I grow
confused; I cannot raise a fool's face to
God, but to You who died for us upon
a cross of wood, I can turn a faithful

heart. Your pain and love shelter me from God's
anger at what happened so long ago
and goes on still today; You give me real
precious security, hope and peace when

before all was anxiety and dread.
As Your breath went, You prayed for us: "Father,
let those who believe join me." And now I'm

not afraid: You have made me believe and
know Your Passion, a wild-fire that razed
my guilt and You suddenly on the cross.

An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition
From V CXLIV:304. See also B S1:159:164; no MSs; Valgrisi 160. Translation: Lawley 102-3. A nineteenth in a series meditating Christ. Key

Amaro Lagrimar
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