The prophecy of Simeon was now fulfilled, and the sword which he had foretold over 30 years before was piercing her soul through and through.  But how much worse was the reality than its foreshadowing!  Little did she imagine that day in the Temple when Simeon put her boy back in her arms that she was to watch him hanging from the Cross by those same hands with which childlike he then clung to her.  That was the pain that was inseparable from her privilege of being the Mother of God.

The grief of St John was very different: it was the torment of a man who had failed his Master and Friend and now found that it was too late to make amends.  He had bolted ignominiously in Gethsemane leaving Jesus deserted and alone; and in the palace of Caiaphas he could not nerve himself to utter one word of friendship or support.  There was no excuse to ease his soul as he heaped reproach after reproach upon himself; and now he was obliged to stand in all his shame and self-loathing before his Master’s eyes.