Lamentum Poenitantiae (Incertus)

APPENDIX XVII. THE LAMENT OF PENITENCE. Hear, O Christ, my sad weeping and bitter song, which a stricken and contrite spirit modulates; behold the streams of tears and listen to the groans. To you, much wounded, I raise my voice in weeping, sending forth sighs from another deep place of my heart, if by chance you might be willing to forgive, appeased. Lighten the burdens of grievous calamity, which oppress me too long and cruelly crush me, and do not depart so that I may recover the breath of life. With the comforter taken away, enclosed by a square stone, I groan, mourn, and sigh, crying out, "Have mercy," knocking and begging all day, but you always delay. Do not hold me, I implore, to the sin of youth and to ignorance; but mercifully arrange that this be passed over, now sparing the unworthy. Do not depart from ancient mercy, I beseech; for if you command me to follow the rigor of justice, I am a debtor of a thousand punishments, worthy of a thousand deaths. Look now, merciful God, at the hardships I endure; remove the contritions and forbid the scourges; do not, I pray, in your indignation, oppress and crush me.

My years I have spent in sorrow, my life in groans, I have become vile and finished; spare me, I implore, I can no longer bear it; give me your right hand and rescue me. You have made your hand heavy with a blow upon me more strongly, crushing the flesh with dire scourges, with vengeance, with slaughter, iron, filth, plague, and the prison of darkness. You increase the times of pressure, you add the burdens of grief, putting off granting me rest, though I am greatly afflicted; in return for this I give thanks, not murmuring in complaint. You say, I know, that you act in truth to kill the impious; but I ask, after the discipline, give placated pardon, because you do not desire the death of the wicked, but their life. I accuse myself, I do not excuse, praising you that you are gentle; according to the measure of my offenses, a small punishment is given; I cry out that I am worthy to receive this and even greater ones. For a remedy for the evils of eternal judgment, it is better now to be struck by a temporal scourge than to be given in the future to everlasting torments. Apply, if you please, still the goads of torments, by which the old and putrid crimes may flow away; let salvation, and finally life, follow the diseased state.

Apply, but not angrily, so that it may be bearable, what you command me to suffer on account of my crimes; so that, once corrected, you may again be gentle after the blows. This is bitter, yet light, because it is transitory; but more bitter and heavy is that which is irrevocable, where there is no end of punishments nor rest from sorrow. There a burning flame scorches the bodies of the damned; he whom it has received does not hope for return; at this I waste away with fear, I melt with dread. When you yourself, the impartial judge and witness, come to render just reward according to each one's merits, you will find no work by which to decree my salvation. Seeing the strict examination of judgment from God, I lead my life in sorrow continually and in groans; already, terrified, I tremble, about to see the just judge. Then your face will be bitter and dreadful to the impious, through whom no one having crimes will be unpunished, except he who now, while living, has wiped them away with tears. You will never be changed from your tranquility, but you will appear gentle to the just, terrible to the impious, whom their conscience holds guilty of fault.

Separating all the just from the unjust swiftly, you will place the goats on the left, the lambs on the right; these you will give to eternal light, those, however, to darkness. Who will not be disturbed by the fury of your wrath? Which no creature will be able to restrain, when you have destroyed the wicked with the sword of your mouth. Cutting off the necks of sinners with a word, not with iron, you will destroy the impious who hasten in the storm, bestowing the rewards of eternal life upon the just. "Receive," he will say to them, "the kingdom is prepared for you for the fruits of justice and mercy," for these and for those which you have done, you testifying to all. All souls will stand before your tribunal, recounting whatever they have done in the flesh in detail; what am I, a wretch, to answer for my unspeakable crimes? A gilded assertion will make no one just; you will receive only good deeds, not words, demanding the talents given to each with interest. With excuses driven away and refuted, only the man and his works will be spoken of, which, excelling as he deserves, he will immediately receive.

Then you will survey the hidden secrets of every conscience, as a face is seen in a mirror. Alas for me! Who will I appear, worse than the very worst? You will not turn your gaze to the person, but to their merits; nor will you make a man your companion because he is distinguished by birth or exalted by prudence, but because he is innocent in deed. Iniquity will be abominable before you, for no unclean person will be joined to you. How then will I, a stinking goat, be joined to the clean sheep? Before you, even the just will not have a secure righteousness; for if you examine strictly, even that is a sin. If you do not spare even the just man, woe to the one in peril. Judging in truth, you will pronounce sentence; and in your equity, even the just man will scarcely be saved. Where then will I appear, a sinner and impious man? When the annals are unsealed, the deeds of all men, the thoughts of the impious, will be publicly laid bare. On the scales you will weigh everything in the balance. When the good or evil is weighed, this side will claim the worker, whichever way the balance of the scale inclines. What shall I do, if the weight of evil casts me to the left?

You will in no way be able to turn aside from justice, nor will you accept a person, nor any gifts; but you will render to each one according to his works. The wicked will look upon the just, when they have merited the blessedness of glory, and they will grieve bitterly that they did not live so justly, that they might be so free. They will pass from sorrow to a worse sorrow, when, accursed, He Himself will have said to them, "Into the fire which is prepared for you," and to the devil. Beholding themselves removed from the rest, or the company, of the blessed, and joined to the devil, so that they may be given to eternal torments together with him. They will raise up a wailing and a monstrous roaring, making a great lamentation, bitter and strong, such as was never made, nor spoken, nor seen. People against people, man against man, they will beat their breasts; tribe against tribe, and kingdom against kingdom they will strike; men separately, and women separately. Then the angels will join together those who are alike in crime, whom, hurling headlong, they will give to the flames of the underworld, so that an equal punishment may always burn those whom an equal guilt unites.

Those whose life is cut short, whose joy is taken away, will have perpetual mourning and enduring sorrow, and no consolation, nor any return. No one will overturn the judgment you have pronounced, nor from that one whom you yourself, judging, have condemned, will eternal vengeance punish all the wicked. I send to God the prerogative of prayers, pouring forth tears while I live, while I understand, asking that you not deem me worthy of condemnation according to my evil deeds. The things I have done are harsh, bitter, and grievous; on account of which, if you justly decide to pursue me, I know that I am a debtor to death and punishment, and that you will find what you seek. If you turn your eyes to my iniquity, you will find no one worthy of the punishment that matches the deed, with whom you might think me to be burned, whom you might deem to be consumed. Given the measure of my offenses and the abundance of my crimes, I scarcely believe that the very punishments of Tartarus are sufficient, since no wicked person has done such things, nor so many. Anxious over this, I sigh because of what I have impiously done; I am wounded by the sin of the worst sinners; I think it is difficult to be safe from such great evils.

I am pressed on all sides by afflictions, I am crushed by straits, my mind wavers in grief, my heart swims in tears, and there is no rest for the spirit because of great fear. I shall not be troubled by the folds of the land, the sky, and the sea, even though these will flow away, dissolved by the heat of fire. Where shall I, wretched, hide myself? Whither shall I flee before you? Is the circle of the world enclosed by your immensity? You crawl over heaven and earth, and without you nothing exists; he who does not have you placated, whither will he flee when you are angry? My sick mind is driven here and there, considering various things, and no way of escape shines forth anywhere, but from you, Lord, I flee, and to you I return. Taking up the arms of a penitent—sackcloth and haircloth—I knock at the ears of piety, at the bowels of mercy, pouring forth words of weeping and pain with tears. Hear the prayers and be appeased, which my sick mind brings forth, and considering the pains, apply remedies, because I am your creation and your formation. Apply, I pray, healing to the worst wounds, checking the flowing ulcers of vices, restoring the corrupted parts with perpetual health.

Take me from the dregs of all sins; do not refuse to cleanse me before you examine me; and I will not then be unclean, if you have now purified me. You also receive sinners, but those whom you now justify; you look upon many, like Peter, if they weep in repentance, and thus you bring back those who have fallen to the underworld to the heavens. In you there is redemption and mercy; unless, having been appeased, you decide to spare, woe to me! for I will precede all the wicked to the vicinity. And because of this, wretched one, I wish I had not been born; for even the present light itself is now darkness to me, trembling at the destruction of eternal damnation. Having no good thing to oppose to evils, my conscience, shaken by fear of punishments, trembles as it dreads to undergo the endless perils. Good God, now help me as I perish, I implore; now free me from eternal wrath and from death, so that whom justice punishes, you may save by your mercy. Kind Father, forgive, I confess what I acknowledge; I declare my evil; I will not be an avenger; receive my profession and grant indulgence.

Goodness. You show mercy to many who do not deserve it, freely forgiving sins; you have granted pardon. Do not defraud me of what you have given to very many. Soothed by confession, you are appeased by the humble; you are more quickly moved to forgive by the weeping voice; you are accustomed to attend to the tears of the penitent. Your hand is not short, so that you cannot provide; you are great in forgiving. Grant this, I cry out; have mercy, do not destroy; spare, do not slay. I beg you, do not strike me with a double scourge; suspend your anger a little; have patience. For I am very wretched, but you are more merciful. Turned to mercy, restore grace. Do not wish to extinguish life together with sin. Preserve the blessing of receiving pardon. Afflict the flesh for its sin as much as you please; I will gladly accept temporal wounds. I only pray that you do not inflict eternal punishments. Afflict me here with sorrows, oppress me with griefs; purge me now through scourges, lest you punish me in the future. Let the soul be redeemed by the punishment of the flesh, which has sinned.

Decree mercifully, O kind one, to seek the lost; you who with wondrous benevolence gather up the cast-off. And you turn back the estranged; you correct the wandering. I have long lamented that I have erred, defiled and prodigal with harlot love, wasting my paternal goods; hence I return to you, needy and stricken. I cry out that I am unworthy of the place of sons, because, rejecting the admonitions of your fatherhood, I flowed away vagrant through byways, I ran through pathless places. Wretched I did evil in my folly; I provoked you to wrath with harsh crimes, at which, rightly dismayed, I am crushed with great grief. Yet I return with tears, confessing as a penitent; remove your indignation, forgetful of the fault committed, and with fatherly mercy, I pray, take in the erring one. If, however, you still judge me worthy of punishment with blows, strike me as you do those whom you love; chastise and rebuke, but mercifully, so that you may correct, not so that you may kill. As the grave faults deserve, do not rage so fiercely; temper your severity, cease from striking, lest, crushed by the blow, I despair and perish.

At times I beseech you for this: that I not be violently overwhelmed by the temptations by which I am repeatedly perverted, lest I, conquered, wretchedly succumb. Grant aid, I pray. Alas! At last, I pray, do not permit me to be deceived, for I will not be able to endure the temptations of the demons; restrain the malice of their desires. Thereupon, I implore you, kind God, with earnestness, to be appeased, however little, so that you may also indulge me here, lest, subdued by long punishment, I become utterly wretched. Do not consign my flesh to eternal sorrow. Let the soul not be cruelly compelled to depart. Grant an end to torments; let the spirit rest. Take hold of my ways, visit me; indeed, come, set free; arise, say to the captive: "Come forth, wretch!" Release him thrust into prison; now open the hidden place. Cleanse my head and remaining limbs with pure water, and purify the internal filth with grace, so that you may allow all defect to depart from the fruitful ones. I mourn, confused by the evils I remember having committed; I pour forth prayers and laments, saddened in spirit; I pray, do not deny the offered pardon to the penitent.

Tears against sin are not indeed sufficient; but what I am unable to expiate with small weepings, I pray that you, by your mercy, remove, that you, by your clemency, wash away. By your compassion, make a just man from an impious one, a shining one from a dark one, a gleaming one from a hideous one, an innocent one from an unjust one, a living one from a dead one. Having taken pity, now cease the harms of my crime, snatching your creation from the hand of the devil; remember your handiwork, and be placable. Your hands made me, your fingers formed me, the body in the maternal womb through my passages, created by your power, into which you enclosed the soul. Do not give over to the ruin of death your work, O Lord, on account of carnal sin, which I have washed away with lamentations; you foretold it possible, and woe is wonderful. Protesting that no one perishes, however grave the crime with which he is carnally polluted, if he returns penitent and does not hesitate in faith, pardon can be received. Proclaiming for you and your messengers and disciples: Repent, the kingdom of heaven is near, and remission of every sin is given in Christ.

You do not declare that you rejoice as much in many just men as in one erring man, foul with sins: come to seek and to save, grieving for what had perished. No guilt is so great that it lacks pardon; every crime of sin is blotted out by penance, if, having cast aside evils, someone performs it soundly. There is no evil that cannot be abolished by tears; you have said that every sin is washed away by humble supplications, except only blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. Shall the fixed purpose of your word be dissolved? Far be it, Lord God, and repel anyone who, after evil, repenting, follows you turned back. Set goodness against it, and overcome malice; grant time for repenting, delay the time of death; let salvation follow, lest destruction carry off. Trusting completely, I believe that, not willing me to perish, you subjected me to lashes by which I might come to my senses, so that, abhorring guilt, I might return to grace. May it please you, Christ, to restore the shipwrecked man condemned to destruction from the error of perdition; may I, seeking you, return, and from evil become worthy to be a servant.

I have sinned, alas, I have sinned, and I have done wickedly; but do not destroy me now that I am converted, and grant what I ask, that you may cleanse me before death, and redeem me while I live. Do not ask what I have been, but what I wish to be; do not, I pray, deem me worthy of condemnation for my old fault; behold my desire for correction, and remit the debt. Although I am confounded by the guilt of the deed, I know that you crown or judge a person by the end, not by the beginning, either crowning for good or judging for evil. Receive, Lord Father, your fallen servant in flight; take away death from the penitent, free me as I pray to you, and recall me with the elect to the life of the Lamb, to the book. Do not allow me to be rejected, whom by my own merits you press with immense weight and dash more harshly, but receive after death the one whom you weary while living. Loosen, Christ, the bonds of sin, the fetters of crimes; unbar the dark threshold of the shadowy prison; restore to the light one buried, a stranger to his homeland. Take away the perpetual fury from the yearly prince; with you interceding, let those whom I endure in long-lasting wretched anger now become placable to me.

Come, Jesus, do not delay. Before death snatches me away, lift me, weary, from the dust, and reconcile me; wipe away my constant tears; make my sad heart joyful. Christ, who are rich in the diversity of graces, I pray that you bestow fruit and merit upon me while I live, lest, finding me barren, you cut me down hereafter. Do not allow me, I beseech you, to be tormented after my sins. Let me have, by your gift, offerings to present, by which, raised from the left, I may pass to the right. Do not join me to the devil, to death with the impious, nor let me be overwhelmed in the abyss of Tartarus, you who came to redeem those who believe in you from death. Now, finishing the alphabet, I will sing of glory, watchful, to you, Father, and to the Son, and to the renowned Paraclete, to whom praise and power will be through eternal ages. Amen.