et quid agit Christus si me non suscipit? autquem liberat infirmum si dedignatur adire carnis onus manuumque horret monumentasuarum? indignumne putat luteum consciscere corpus, qui non indignum quondam sibi credidit ipsum pertrectare lutum, cum vas conponeret arvo nondum viscereo, sed inertis glutine limi inpressoque putres sub pollice duceret artus? tantus amor terrae, tanta est dilectio nostri, dignatur praepinguis humi conprendere mollem divinis glaebam digitis, nec sordida censet haerentis massae contagia.
What does Christ achieve if He does not take up my nature? Or whom does He set free from his infirmity if He does not stoop to assume the burden of the flesh and shrinks from that which is the memorial of his own handiwork? Does He think it unfitting to take on a body of clay, who once did not believe it unfitting for Him to handle the same clay, when He was making a vessel of earth not yet become flesh, moulding the mortal frame out of the sticky, sluggish mire under the pressure of his thumb? Such is his love of earth, such his affection for us, He deigns to grasp with the divine fingers a soft clod of soil very fertile, and thinks it not mean to touch the clinging lump.
final_alignments\Prudentius_Divinity_Of_Christ.json