If the love of a mother for her slain sons could keep her at this heartbreaking vigil for months on end, shall we grow weary of contemplating the sufferings of our blessed Lord?

She drove away the birds of prey, and shall we not chase from our meditations those worldly and sinful thoughts that defile our minds and contaminate the sacred themes we're considering? Away, you birds of evil wing! Leave the sacrifice alone!

She bore the scorching summer heat, the cold night dew, the rain—unsheltered and alone. Sleep was chased from her weeping eyes; her heart was too full for slumber. Behold how she loved her children! Shall Rizpah endure all this while we flinch at the first little inconvenience? Are we such cowards that we cannot bear to suffer with our Lord?

She fought off wild beasts with remarkable courage. Will we not be ready to face every enemy for Jesus' sake? Remember—her children were killed by others, and yet she wept and watched. What then should we do, who have by our sins crucified our Lord?

Our obligations are boundless, our love should be fervent, and our repentance thorough. To watch with Jesus should be our business, to protect his honor our occupation, to stay by his cross our comfort.

Those ghastly corpses must have terrified Rizpah, especially by night. But in our Lord, at whose cross we sit, there is nothing revolting—everything attracts us. Never was living beauty so enchanting as a dying Savior.

Jesus, we will watch with you yet awhile. Graciously unveil yourself to us! Then we shall sit not under sackcloth, but in a royal pavilion.