When I came with him to the place of the Passion, I saw there all the instruments prepared for His death.
He was ordered to take off His robe, and He immediately did so. And after He had undressed Himself the soldiers said to one another: “These clothes belong to us, because He who is condemned to death will not use them again.”
Now upon being ordered to do so, He lay down on His back on the Cross and stretched out first His right arm. Then His cruel executioners seized Him. First they attached His right hand to the beam, in which a nail hole had been prepared, and they drove the nail through His hand in the part where the bone was firmest.
Then they pulled His other hand in the opposite direction with a rope, as it did not reach the other nail hole, and they nailed it down in the same way. Next they nailed His right foot, and over it the left, so that all the nerves and veins were torn apart and broken.
Then they replaced on His holy head the crown of thorns which caused such deep wounds that His blood streamed down, filling His eyes and His ears and matting His whole beard.
When the first nail was driven into Him, through the shock of that first blow I lost consciousness and fell down as though dead. Everything turned black before my eyes. My hands began to tremble. And my anguish was so bitter that I could not look up again until He was completely attached to the Cross.
When I came to myself and arose again, I saw my Son hanging crucified in misery. And I, His deeply grieving Mother, felt such a shock through and through my whole being that I could hardly stand.
I also heard men saying to one another that my Son was a robber, others that He was
a liar, and others that no one deserved death more than my Son, and when I heard such words my grief was renewed.