THE HOLY NAME OF JESUS.
Jesus! the very thought of thee
With sweetness fills my breast:
But sweeter far thy face to see,
And in thy presence rest.
Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find,
A sweeter sound than thy blest name,
O Saviour of mankind!
O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
To those who fall, how kind thou art
How good to those that seek
But what to those who find? Ah! this
Nor tongue nor pen can show;
The Love of Jesus, what it is,
None but his loved ones know.
Jesus! our only joy be thou
As thou our prize wilt be;
Jesus! be thou our glory now,
And through eternity.
O Jesus! thou the beauty art
Of angel worlds above;
Thy name is music to the heart,
Enchanting it with love.
Celestial sweetness unalloyed!
Who eat thee hunger still;
Who drink of thee still feel a void,
Which nought but thou can fill.
O my sweet Jesus! hear the sighs
Which unto thee I send;
To thee my inmost spirit cries,
My being's hope and end!
Stay with us, Lord, and with thy light
Illume the soul's abyss;
Scatter the darkness of our night,
And fill the world with bliss.
O Jesus! spotless virgin flower!
Our life and joy! to thee
Be praise, beatitude, and power,
Through all eternity. Amen.
Laud, O Sion, thy Salvation;
Loud the anthem of laudation
To thy King, thy Shepherd raise.
What thou canst do, do it boldly,
For thy best will praise but coldly
Him who is above all praise.
Theme of themes beyond all telling,
Living Bread all bread excelling,
Bread which lives and maketh live;
Bread which at the sacred table
Christ the Lord alone was able
To the chosen Twelve to give.
Be the hymnal praise sonorous,
Let our hearts a gladsome chorus,
Throb in soft and sweet accord,
For this festal day's elation
Is the grand commemoration
Of the Supper of our Lord.
See upon the new King's table,
The new Pasch, no more unstable,
Terminates the ancient Rite;
What was Old, the New effaces,
Truth the shadowy Type replaces,
Day dispels the dark of Night.
At the Supper what Christ acted,
What his loving law enacted,
Here is done by power Divine;
Here, in glad commemoration,
Is the solemn consecration
Of the Host from bread and wine.
Here the Christian dogma stated-
Bread is transubstantiated
Into Flesh, the wine to Blood
What not sight nor touch discerneth,
What no human learning learneth,
Simple faith hath understood.
Underneath the forms external-
Signs not things-sublime, supernal
Hidden secrets here we find→→
Bread to Flesh; to Blood, wine's sweetness;
Christ in absolute completeness,
Is contained in either kind.
Undiminished by partaking,
Undivided in the breaking,
In each portion Christ finds room-
Thousands eat of what one eateth,
This one's act the next repeateth,
Unconsuming, all consume.
At the banquet all seem equal,
Good and bad, but ah! the sequel—
Life or death is in the food:
See how different the dividing-
To the bad, 'tis death providing:
Life, salvation to the good.
When the solemn words are spoken,
Doubt not though the Host be broken,
That each fragment doth betoken
What the sacred whole supplied:
What is broken is partition
Of the outward sign's condition;
Diminution or addition
Cannot reach the Signified.
Lo! for pilgrims deathward wending.
'Neath life's awful burden bending.
See the Angels' bread descending,
Children's food to dogs not sent;
Known by many an adumbration,
Seen in Isaac's immolation,
By the Paschal celebration,
By the mystic manna meant.
O true Bread! O Shepherd tender!
Be our food and our defender;
Jesus! Jesus! succour render,
Till we see Thee in Thy splendour,
In the Land of Life and Love.
Thou from whom all power proceedeth,
Thou who knoweth what each one needeth,
Thou who here all mortals feedeth,
Make us guests when heaven succeedeth,
And co-heirs with saints above.
HYMN OF ST. CASIMIR TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY.
Daily, daily sing to Mary-
Sing, my soul, her praises due :
All her feasts, her actions worship
With the heart's devotion true.
Lost in wondering contemplation,
Be her majesty confest;
Call her Mother, call her Virgin-
Happy Mother, Virgin blest.
She is mighty to deliver;
Call her, trust her lovingly;
When the tempest rages round thee,
She will calm the troubled sea.
Gifts of Heaven she has given,
Noble lady, to our race-
She, the Queen, who decks her subjects
With the light of God's own grace.
Sing, my tongue, the Virgin's trophies,
Who for us her maker bore;
For the curse of old inflicted,
Peace and blessing to restore.
Sing in songs of praise unending,
Sing the world's majestic Queen ;
Weary not, nor faint in telling
All the gifts she gives to men.
All my senses, heart, affections,
Strive to sound her glory forth:
Spread abroad the sweet memorials
Of the Virgin's priceless worth.
Where the voice of music thrilling-
Where the tongue of eloquence-
That can utter hymns beseeming
All her matchless excellence?
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