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Jesus falls a second time, crushed beneath the weight of His awful sufferings which are fast draining His strength.
Exhausted and spent He lies upon the rough-paved ground, a cruel resting-place for His bleeding, lacerated body. Vainly, He tries to rise, for love impels Him on to the consummation of the sacrifice, but His tottering limbs will not support Him and once again He falls upon the ground.
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Again the soldiers with fiendish brutality drag Him to His feet with coarse jibes and mocking laughter, with kicks and blows they drive Him on, pulling Him now forward, now back, striving if possible to add to the sufferings of the patient victim.
Reflection
During His passion Our Lord was dragged and bound from place to place. I have hourly opportunities of imitating Him by going cheerfully to the duty of the moment - recreation when I want to be quiet, a walk when I would rather stay in the room, some unpleasant duty I did not expect, a call of charity which means great inconvenience for myself.