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THE RHYTHM OF ST. THOMAS AQUINAS TO THE

HOLY EUCHARIST.

(FROM THE MISSAL.)

DEVOUTLY I adore THEE, latent Deity,

Who 'neath these symbols truly hid dost lie,
All
my whole heart submit itself to THEE,

In contemplating whom, all whole it faileth me.

Our sight, our taste, our touch, in THEE deceiv'd,
Hearing alone securely is believed,

Whatever God's Son spake that hold I sooth,
Nought is more true than this word of the truth.

Hidden on the Cross lay only Deity,
Here hidden also lieth Humanity,
Believing and embracing both, I do

Seek that which the repenting thief sought too.

Thy wounds, with Thomas, though I do not see,
Yet for my GoD, with him, I do own THEE;
Ever make me more to believe in THEE,
In THEE to place my hope, and to love THEE.

Of the Lord's death, oh! Thou memoriall,
Thou Bread of Life, life bearing to men all,
By THEE to live! Oh! grant unto my mind,
And THEE alway unto, it sweet to find.

O! JESU Lord! Oh! Pelican full mild,
Oh! in thy blood, do thou cleanse me defil'd,
One drop of this sufficeth for salvation
For all the world from sin's abomination.

JESU! whom veilèd I now look upon,

I

pray let that for which I thirst be done, That I, with face reveal'd, beholding THEE, May with thy glory's vision blessed be.

Amen.

Φ.

The above is an attempt to render the Latin of St. Thomas in a quaint English style, like that of some of the devotional poets of the seventeenth century.

"OH MARY, CONCEIVED WITHOUT SIN, PRAY FOR ME, WHO HAVE

RECOURSE TO THEE."

Her prayer was scarcely ended, when there happened such a storm that neither St. Benedict nor his sister could set foot out of doors," &c.

"St. Benedict, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he saw the soul of his sister ascending in the shape of a dove."- Butler, Life of St. Scholastica, Virgin.

SHE knelt beside him, and the dove
Was in the gentle eyes upraised
To his, with such a look of love,
As on an Angel she had gazed.

"And stay, my own dear brother, stay,
The road is rough, thy convent far,
Already day-light fades away

Already shines the evening star.

"The evening star, that ever bears

Resemblance to the Queen of Heaven,

Her smiles are most for sorrow's tears,
As light to hours of darkness given.

"Then rest thee, brother, rest thee here,
We'll kneel this ev'ning at her shrine,
And when I join that mother dear,

My spirit, love, shall pray for thine.

"Thou wilt not. Then I'll ask of Him,
Who never yet refused my prayer."
She prayed and lo! the skies grew dim,
A sudden storm convulsed the air.

"Now, brother, rest, and thank His love,
Who e'en for us His thunder rolls,

But while this storm is dark above,
Still be His sunshine on our souls."

The moon was up, its lustre pale

Was glistening on each dewy flower,
When Bennet wandered thro' the vale,
And blest the calmness of the hour.

His heart was melting in its love,

And when he lifted up his eyes,
He thought he saw a silver dove
Betwixt him and the azure skies.

That bird of silver pinion flew;
He gazed till he could gaze no more,
And where it vanished scarce he knew.

And when he woke as from a dream,
Unto the church his steps he bent;
His wondering spirit scarce could deem
That bird a vision-yet he went.
The moon with tender love did shine
Upon a form that prostrate lay;
It was before our Ladye's shrine
She'd sighed her spotless soul away.

He took her in his arms and wept,
"Oh Sister, Sister, pray for me!

The love that should have watched thee, slept
When thou didst fly away from me.

"While my weak spirit slothful grew,
Thine on rapid wing was flying;
While idly wandering thro' the dew
Thou in holy joy wert dying.

"Then rest thee, sister, rest thee here
Beneath our Virgin Mother's shrine;

No lily will adorn thy bier

That's whiter than that soul of thine.

"Scholastica! my sister, rest!

And when a spotless dove I see,

I'll think it is thy spirit blest,

And whisper, Sister, pray for me!'

"Soft be the dews that o'er thee fall,

Bright may the flowers above thee bloom,
And smile, the best loved star of all,
Ever on thee and guard thy tomb.

"Now thou art with our Mother dear!
Sweet Sister Spirit, think on mine;
That as our dust shall mingle here,
So may our souls in Heaven join!

"Forgive, forgive me, that I've wept,

For thou didst fly away from me,

While love, that should have watched thee, slept,-
Oh! Sister, Sister, PRAY FOR ME!

Feast of St. John Francis Regis.

M. C. A.

"OH MARY, CONCEIVED WITHOUT SIN, PRAY FOR ME, WHO HAVE RECOURSE TO THEE."

The Catholic Magazine.

THE NAVE OF THE CHURCH.

CHAPTER IV.

Quodcunque in orbe nexibus revinxeris
Erit revinctum, PETRE, in arce siderum :
Et quod resolvit hic potestas tradita,
Erit solutum cœli in alto vertice:

In fine mundi judicabis sæculum.".

Hymn. ad Vesp. in Festo Cathedræ Sti. Petri, quâ Romæ primum sedit.

What, PETER, thou on earth with thongs shalt bind,

Shall in the citadel of stars be bound:

What here thy delegated power doth loose,

Shall in the Highest Heavens be ratified,

THOU who at earth's last day the world shalt judge."

As the happiest form of human government is that of a parental despotism, could we be always secure of its continuance in the person of a worthy sovereign,—so when we reflect aright, we shall find that this, though uncertain on earth, is secure in heaven, seeing that, as GOD'S creatures, we are made to live for ever under the secure and everliving rule of His Despotism of Love.

But what we can only look forward to in Heaven, as the last end and object of our being, and what in civil government, however perfect, from the mutability of human agency, as well as from that strange caprice of passion which affects not only the governor, but more often in these unhappy days the governed, must necessarily be unattainable,— is yet in a higher sense no Utopia, but a reality which even here on earth can be obtained,—yea, which we do enjoy, all we who sit under the vice-gerent rule of Holy Church, and bask in the rays of her absolute authority. For while her sceptre is one of love, and her bearing towards her children tender as a mother to her weak and often thought9

NO. IX.-VOL. II.-SEPT. 1843.