Liturgical Guide: Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael; Archangels

c. 1450 Painting by the 'Master of Pratovecchio' - Courtesy of Wikipedia

The hymns chosen for the Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel and Raphael; Archangels proclaim with the Church that the existence of the spiritual, non-corporeal beings that Sacred Scripture usually calls "angels" is a truth of faith which is in complete unanimity with Sacred Tradition. Beginning at Paragraph #329, the Catechism of the Catholic Church says this concerning Angels: "Who are they? St. Augustine says: "'Angel' is the name of their office, not of their nature. If you seek the name of their nature, it is 'spirit'; if you seek the name of their office, it is 'angel': from what they are, 'spirit', from what they do, 'angel.'" With their whole beings the angels are servants and messengers of God. Because they "always behold the face of my Father who is in heaven" they are the "mighty ones who do his word, hearkening to the voice of his word - Matt. 18:10".


Reflection by the Apostleship of Prayer

LITURGY OF THE HOURS (1975)
151. Praise the Lord, Ye Heavens, Adore Him
152. They Come, God's Messengers of Love
153. You Holy Angels Bright

DIVINE OFFICE (1974)
Angels of God, You See the Father's Face

ROMAN BREVIARY
Christe, Sanctorum
Te Splendor et Virtus Patris
Tibi Christe Splendor Patris

Poem: O Light Invisible, We Praise Thee!

We See the Light, But See Not Whence it Comes

O Light Invisible, We Praise Thee! is an excerpt from Choruses from The Rock by T.S. Eliot (1888-1965). The Rock is a play that Elliot wrote in the form of a medieval pageant which included music by Martin Shaw and was first performed in 1934. O Light Invisible, We Praise Thee! is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).

Poem: Trinity Sunday

Fresco by Luca Rossetti da Orta - Courtesy of Wikipedia

Trinity Sunday is by George Herbert (1593–1633). It was published posthumously in 1633 as part of the collection, The Temple and is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).

TRINITY SUNDAY by George Herbert, 1633 (Public Domain)

Lord, who hast form’d me out of mud,
       And hast redeem’d me through thy blood,
       And sanctifi’d me to do good;

Purge all my sins done heretofore:
       For I confess my heavy score,
       And I will strive to sin no more.

Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me,
       With faith, with hope, with charity;
       That I may run, rise, rest with thee.

Poem: Pied Beauty

For Rose-Moles All in Stipple Upon Trout That Swim: Praise Him!

Pied Beauty is by the Jesuit Priest and poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–1889). Although written in 1877, it remained unpublished until it's inclusion in the posthumous collection: Poems (1918). It is known as a curtal sonnet, a poetic form of his own invention. Pied Beauty is included in the Poetry for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


Read by Michael Graves

PIED BEAUTY by Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1918 (Public Domain)

Glory be to God for dappled things –
     For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
          For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
     Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
          And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
     Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
          With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
               Praise him.

Poem: That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the Comfort of the Resurrection

Nature's Bonfire Burns On

That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the Comfort of the Resurrection is by the Jesuit Priest and poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–1889). It was first published in the posthumous collection: Poems (1918) and is included in the Poetry for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974). Heraclitus (c.535- c.475 BC) was a pre-Socratic Greek philosopher who taught that fire is the primordial element from which all else comes into being and ultimately, passes away. For an interesting commentary, check out the article and podcast - Poetry and Judgment Day 3: Gerard Manley Hopkins “That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the comfort of the Resurrection”.


Reading

THAT NATURE IS A HERACLITEAN FIRE AND OF THE COMFORT OF THE RESURRECTION by Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1918 (Public Domain)

Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows | flaunt forth, then chevy on an air-
Built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs | they throng; they
       glitter in marches.
Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, | wherever an elm arches,
Shivelights and shadowtackle ín long | lashes lace, lance, and pair.
Delightfully the bright wind boisterous | ropes, wrestles, beats earth bare
Of yestertempest's creases; | in pool and rut peel parches
Squandering ooze to squeezed | dough, crust, dust; stanches, starches
Squadroned masks and manmarks | treadmire toil there
Footfretted in it. Million-fuelèd, | nature's bonfire burns on.
But quench her bonniest, dearest | to her, her clearest-selvèd spark
Man, how fast his firedint, | his mark on mind, is gone!
Both are in an unfathomable, all is in an enormous dark
Drowned. O pity and indig | nation! Manshape, that shone
Sheer off, disseveral, a star, | death blots black out; nor mark
                         Is any of him at all so stark
But vastness blurs and time | beats level. Enough! the Resurrection,
A heart's-clarion! Away grief's gasping, | joyless days, dejection.
                         Across my foundering deck shone
A beacon, an eternal beam. | Flesh fade, and mortal trash
Fall to the residuary worm; | world's wildfire, leave but ash:
                         In a flash, at a trumpet crash,
I am all at once what Christ is, | since he was what I am, and
This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, | patch, matchwood, immortal diamond,
                         Is immortal diamond.

Poem: In No Strange Land (The Kingdom of God is Within You)

Not of Genesareth, but Thames!

In No Strange Land (The Kingdom of God is Within You) is by the English poet, Francis Thompson (1859-1907). Published posthumously, the poem was found among his papers following his death. It is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


Reading

IN NO STRANGE LAND by Francis Thompson (Public Domain)

O world invisible, we view thee,
O world intangible, we touch thee,
O world unknowable, we know thee,
Inapprehensible, we clutch thee!

Does the fish soar to find the ocean,
The eagle plunge to find the air--
That we ask of the stars in motion
If they have rumor of thee there?

Not where the wheeling systems darken,
And our benumbed conceiving soars!--
The drift of pinions, would we hearken,
Beats at our own clay-shuttered doors.

The angels keep their ancient places--
Turn but a stone and start a wing!
'Tis ye, 'tis your estrangèd faces,
That miss the many-splendored thing.

But (when so sad thou canst not sadder)
Cry--and upon thy so sore loss
Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder
Pitched betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross.

Yea, in the night, my Soul, my daughter,
Cry--clinging to Heaven by the hems;
And lo, Christ walking on the water,
Not of Genesareth, but Thames!

Poem: The World

Like a Great Ring of Pure and Endless Light

The World is by the Welch physician, author, and poet, Henry Vaughan (1621-1695). It was first published in his 1650 collection: Silex Scintillans (The Flaming Flint) and is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


Reading

THE WORLD by Henry Vaughan, 1650 (Public Domain)  

I Saw Eternity the other night,
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
       All calm, as it was bright;
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years
       Driv'n by the spheres
Like a vast shadow mov'd; in which the world
       And all her train were hurl's.
The doting lover in his quaintest strain
       Did there complain;
Near him, his lute, his fancy, and his flights,
       Wit's sour delights;
With gloves, and knots, the silly snares of pleasure,
       Yet his dear treasure,
All scatter'd lay, while he his eyes did pour
       Upon a flow'r.

The darksome statesman, hung with weights and woe,
Like a thick midnight-fog, mov'd there so slow,
       He did nor stay, nor go;
Condemning thoughts—like sad eclipses—scowl
       Upon his soul,
And clouds of crying witnesses without
       Pursued him with one shout.
Yet digg'd the mole, and lest his ways be found,
       Work'd under ground,
Where he did clutch his prey; but one did see
       That policy:
Churches and altars fed him; perjuries
       Were gnats and flies;
It rain'd about him blood and tears, but he
       Drank them as free.

The fearful miser on a heap of rust
Sate pining all his life there, did scarce trust
       His own hands with the dust,
Yet would not place one piece above, but lives
       In fear of thieves.
Thousands there were as frantic as himself,
       And hugg'd each one his pelf;
The downright epicure plac'd heav'n in sense,
       And scorn'd pretence;
While others, slipp'd into a wide excess
       Said little less;
The weaker sort slight, trivial wares enslave,
       Who think them brave;
And poor, despisèd Truth sate counting by
       Their victory.

Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing,
And sing, and weep, soar'd up into the ring;
       But most would use no wing.
O fools—said I—thus to prefer dark night
       Before true light!
To live in grots and caves, and hate the day
       Because it shows the way;
The way, which from this dead and dark abode
       Leads up to God;
A way where you might tread the sun, and be
       More bright than he!
But as I did their madness so discuss,
       One whisper'd thus,
“This ring the Bridegroom did for none provide,
       But for His bride.”

Poem: Peace

Mosaic from the Hagia Sophia, Istanbul - Courtesy of Wikipedia  

Peace is by the Welch physician, author, and poet, Henry Vaughan (1621-1695). It was first published in his 1650 collection: Silex Scintillans (The Flaming Flint) and is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


Reading

PEACE by Henry Vaughan, 1650 (Public Domain)

My soul, there is a country
     Far beyond the stars,
Where stands a wingèd sentry
     All skillful in the wars :
There, above noise and danger,
     Sweet Peace sits crown'd with smiles,
And One born in a manger
     Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious Friend,
     And—O my soul awake !—
Did in pure love descend,
     To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
     There grows the flower of Peace,
The Rose that cannot wither,
     Thy fortress, and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges ;
     For none can thee secure,
But One, who never changes,
     Thy God, thy life, thy cure.


Choral setting by Hubert Parry

Poem: The Morning-Watch

Prayer is the World in Tune, a Spirit Voice

The Morning-Watch is by the Welch physician, author, and poet, Henry Vaughan (1621-1695). It was first published in his 1650 collection: Silex Scintillans (The Flaming Flint) and is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


Read by poet, Brian Nellist


THE MORNING-WATCH by Henry Vaughan, 1650 (Public Domain)

O joys! infinite sweetness! with what flower’s
And shoots of glory my soul breaks and buds!
              All the long hours
              Of night, and rest,
              Through the still shrouds
              Of sleep, and clouds,
       This dew fell on my breast;
       Oh, how it bloods
And spirits all my earth! Hark! In what rings
And hymning circulations the quick world
              Awakes and sings;
              The rising winds
              And falling springs,
              Birds, beasts, all things
       Adore him in their kinds.
              Thus all is hurl’d
In sacred hymns and order, the great chime
And symphony of nature. Prayer is
              The world in tune,
              A spirit voice,
              And vocal joys
       Whose echo is heav’n’s bliss.
              O let me climb
When I lie down! The pious soul by night
Is like a clouded star whose beams, though said
              To shed their light
              Under some cloud,
              Yet are above,
              And shine and move
       Beyond that misty shroud.
              So in my bed,
That curtain’d grave, though sleep, like ashes, hide
My lamp and life, both shall in thee abide.

Poem: At a Solemn Music

To His Celestial Consort Us Unite

At a Solemn Music is by the English poet, John Milton (1608-1674). It was first published in his collection, 1645 Poems. The British composer, Hubert Parry's setting of the ode: Blest Pair of Sirens was premiered in 1887 at a concert before Queen Victoria, celebrating her Golden Jubilee. In 2011 it was performed at the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. At a Solemn Music is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


Sung by the Choir of Winchester Cathedral

AT A SOLEMN MUSIC by John Milton

Blest pair of sirens, pledges of heaven's joy,
Sphere-born harmonious Sisters, Voice, and Verse,
Wed your divine sounds, and mixed power employ 
Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce,
And to our high-raised phantasy present,
That undisturbed song of pure content,
Ay sung before the sapphire-coloured throne
To him that sits theron
With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee,
Where the bright seraphim in burning row
Their loud uplifted angel trumpets blow,
And the cherubic host in thousand choirs
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, 
With those just spirits that wear victorious palms,
Hymns devout and holy psalms
Singing everlastingly; 
That we on earth with undiscording voice
May rightly answer that melodious noise;
As once we did, till disproportioned sin
Jarred against nature's chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair music that all creatures made
To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed
In perfect diapason, whilst they stood
In first obedience, and their state of good.
O may we soon again renew that song,
And keep in tune with heaven, till God ere long
To his celestial consort us unite,
To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light.


Reading

Poem: His Litany to the Holy Spirit

Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me!

His Litany to the Holy Spirit is by the English poet and Anglican Vicar, Robert Herrick (1591-1674). It was first published in his collection: Noble Numbers (1647), and is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


Choral setting by David Solomons

LITANY TO THE HOLY SPIRIT by Robert Herrick, 1647 (Public Domain)

In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
       Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
       Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
       Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the passing bell doth toll,
And the Furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
       Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
       Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the priest his last hath pray'd,
And I nod to what is said,
'Cause my speech is now decay'd,
       Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When, God knows, I'm toss'd about
Either with despair or doubt;
Yet before the glass be out,
       Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tempter me pursu'th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
       Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
       Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the Judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was seal'd,
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
       Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

Poem: Antiphon

Let All the World in Ev'ry Corner Sing, My God and King!

Antiphon is a poem by George Herbert (1593–1633). It was published posthumously in 1633 as part of the collection, The Temple. In 1911, the British composer Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) published Five Mystical Songs, a setting of five of Herbert's poems from The Temple. Williams' Antiphon (featured in the following video), along with three other poems from Five Mystical Songs: The Call, Easter, and Love are included in the Religious Poems Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


From Five Mystical Songs - "Antiphon" begins at 7:40

ANTIPHON I by George Herbert, 1633 (Public Domain)

Chorus: Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing,
                         My God and King.

Verse: The heav’ns are not too high,
           His praise may thither flie:
           The earth is not too low,
           His praises there may grow.

Chorus: Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing,
                        My God and King.

Verse: The church with psalms must shout,
           No doore can keep them out:
           But above all, the heart
           Must bear the longest part.

Chorus: Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing,
                         My God and King.

Poem: The Dial

Sun Dial, 1871 / St. Vigeans Church, Scotland - Courtesy of Wikipedia

The Dial is by the Anglican Bishop, Lancelot Andrewes (1555-1626). He headed the committee of scholars that translated Genesis to 2nd Kings in the King James Version of the Bible. The Dial was part of a manuscript of his own personal devotions for daily prayer that was published posthumously in 1675 as Preces Privatae (Private Devotions). It is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).

THE DIAL by Lancelot Andrewes, 1675 (Public Domain)

Thou who hast put the times and seasons in thine own power: grant that we make our prayer unto Thee in a time convenient and when Thou mayest be found, and save us.

Thou who for us men and for our salvation wast born at dead of night: give us daily to be born again by renewing of the Holy Ghost, Till Christ be formed in us unto a perfect man, and save us.

Thou who very early in the morning while the sun was yet arising didst rise from the dead: raise us up daily unto newness of life, suggesting to us ways of repentance which Thyself knowest, and save us.

Thou who at the third hour didst send down thy Holy Ghost on the apostles: take not away the same Spirit from us, but renew Him daily within us, and save us.

Thou who at the sixth hour and on the sixth day didst nail the sins of the world with Thyself on the cross: blot out the handwriting of our sins which is against us and taking it out of the way, save us.

Thou who at the sixth hour didst let down a great sheet from heaven to earth, a figure of thy Church: receive us up into it, sinners of the gentiles, and with it receive us up together into heaven, and save us.

Thou who at the seventh hour didst will that the fever should leave the noblemans son: if aught abide of fever or of sickness in our soul, take it away from us also, and save us.

Thou who at the ninth hour for us sinners and for our sins didst taste of death: mortify in us our earthly members and whatsoever is contrary to thy will, and save us.

Thou who hast willed the ninth hour to be an hour of prayer: hear us while we pray in the hour of prayer and make us to obtain our prayer and our desires, and save us.

Thou who at the tenth hour didst will thine apostle, whenas he found thy Son, to declare with great joy WE HAVE FOUND THE MESSIAH: make us also in like sort to find the Messiah and when He is found in like sort to rejoice, and save us.

Thou who at eventide didst will to be taken down from the cross and buried in the tomb: take away our sins from us and bury them in thy sepulchre, covering with good works whatsoever we have committed ill, and save us.

Thou who didst vouchsafe even at the eleventh hour of the day to send men into thy vineyard and to fix a wage, notwithstanding they had stood all the day idle: do unto us like favour and, though it be late, as it were about the eleventh hour, accept us graciously when we return to Thee, and save us.

Thou who at the hour of supper didst will to institute the most sacred mysteries of thy body and blood: make us mindful of the same and partakers thereof, and that, never unto judgement but unto remission of sin and unto acquiring of the bequests of the new testament, and save us.

Thou who late in the night didst by thy breathing confer on thine apostles the authority as well to forgive as to  retain sins: make us partakers of that authority, yet that it be unto remission, not unto retention, o Lord,
and save us.

Thou who at midnight didst awaken David thy prophet and Paul the apostle to praise Thee: give us also songs by night and to remember Thee upon our beds, and save us.

Thou who with thine own mouth hast avouched that at midnight the Bridegroom shall come: grant that the cry THE BRIDEGROOM COMETH may sound evermore in our ears, that so we be never unprepared to meet Him, and save us.

Thou who by the crowing of a cock didst admonish thine apostle and make him to return to penitence: grant us also at the same admonition to do the same, to wit to go forth and weep bitterly the things wherein we have sinned against Thee, and save us.

Thou who hast foretold that Thou wilt come to judgement  in a day when we look not for Thee and at an hour when we are not aware: make us prepared every day and every hour to be ready for thine advent, and save us.

Poem: Hymn to God My God, in My Sickness

I Joy, That In These Straits, I See My West

Hymn to God My God, in My Sickness is by the English poet, lawyer, and cleric in the Church of England, John Donne (1572-1631). Scholars believe it was certainly written at a time when he felt that death was imminent, but are divided as to whether it was composed in 1630/31 or during some earlier period of illness. It is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


Reading (with scriptural references)

HYMN TO GOD MY GOD, IN MY SICKNESS by John Donne (Public Domain)

Since I am coming to that holy room,
     Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore,
I shall be made thy music; as I come
     I tune the instrument here at the door,
     And what I must do then, think here before. 

Whilst my physicians by their love are grown
     Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie
Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown
     That this is my south-west discovery,
     Per fretum febris, by these straits to die,

I joy, that in these straits I see my west;
     For, though their currents yield return to none,
What shall my west hurt me? As west and east
     In all flat maps (and I am one) are one,
     So death doth touch the resurrection.

Is the Pacific Sea my home? Or are
     The eastern riches? Is Jerusalem?
Anyan, and Magellan, and Gibraltar,
     All straits, and none but straits, are ways to them,
     Whether where Japhet dwelt, or Cham, or Shem.

We think that Paradise and Calvary,
     Christ's cross, and Adam's tree, stood in one place;
Look, Lord, and find both Adams met in me;
     As the first Adam's sweat surrounds my face,
     May the last Adam's blood my soul embrace.

So, in his purple wrapp'd, receive me, Lord;
     By these his thorns, give me his other crown;
And as to others' souls I preach'd thy word,
     Be this my text, my sermon to mine own:
"Therefore that he may raise, the Lord throws down."

Poem: Good Lord, Deliver Us!

Good Lord, Deliver Us! is by the English poet, lawyer, and cleric in the Church of England, John Donne (1572-1631). It is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974). It is made up of stanzas: 15-17, and 21 of Donne's 28 stanza poem A Litany, likely written in 1609, during a period of convalescence from a severe illness.

GOOD LORD, DELIVER US! (from 'A Litany') by John Donne, 1609 (Public Domain)

     From being anxious, or secure,
Dead clods of sadness, or light squibs of mirth,
     From thinking that great courts immure
All, or no happiness, or that this earth
          Is only for our prison framed,
          Or that Thou'rt covetous
To them whom Thou lovest, or that they are maim'd
From reaching this world's sweet who seek Thee thus,
With all their might, good Lord, deliver us.

     From needing danger, to be good, From owing
Thee yesterday's tears to-day,
     From trusting so much to Thy blood
That in that hope we wound our soul away,
          From bribing Thee with alms, to excuse
          Some sin more burdens,
From light affecting, in religion, news,
From thinking us all soul, neglecting thus
Our mutual duties, Lord, deliver us.

     From tempting Satan to tempt us,
By our connivance, or slack company,
     From measuring ill by vicious
Neglecting to choke sin's spawn, vanity,
          From indiscreet humility,
          Which might be scandalous
And cast reproach on Christianity,
From being spies, or to spies pervious,
From thirst or scorn of fame, deliver us.

     When senses, which Thy soldiers are,
We arm against Thee, and they fight for sin;
     When want, sent but to tame, doth war,
And work despair a breach to enter in;
          When plenty, God's image, and seal,      
          Makes us idolatrous,
And love it, not him, whom it should reveal;
When we are moved to seem religious
Only to vent wit ; Lord, deliver us.

Poem: 'O Come Quickly!' (Never Weather-Beaten Sail)

'O Come Quickly!' (Never Weather-Beaten Sail) is by the English composer, poet, and physician: Thomas Campion (1567-1620). Writer of both the words and music, Campion published the song in his Two Bookes of Ayres (1613?). It is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


Performed by Stile Antico

NEVER WEATHER-BEATEN SAIL by Thomas Campion, 1613 (Public Domain)

Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.
Never tired pilgrim's limbs affected slumber more,
Than my wearied sprite now longs to fly out of my troubled breast:
O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soul to rest.
Ever blooming are the joys of Heaven's high Paradise.
Cold age deafs not there our ears nor vapour dims our eyes:
Glory there the sun outshines whose beams the blessed only see:
O come quickly, glorious Lord, and raise my sprite to thee!

Poem: True Love (My True-Love Hath My Heart)

There Never Was A Better Bargain Driven 

True Love (My True-Love Hath My Heart) is by the English poet, soldier, and courtier to Elizabeth I: Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586). Also known as The Bargain, his final revision of the sonnet was published in 1593 in The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia. It is included in the Poems for All Seasons Appendix of the Divine Office (1974).


Reading

MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY HEART by Philip Sidney, 1593 (Public Domain)

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for the other given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;
There never was a bargain better driven.
His heart in me keeps me and him in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;
He loves my heart for once it was his own;
I cherish his because in me it bides.
His heart his wound receivèd from my sight;
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;
For as from me on him his hurt did light,
So still methought in me his hurt did smart:
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,
My true love hath my heart and I have his.


Choral setting by Ian Assersohn, performed by the Dorking Camerata

Poem: Discipline

My Heart's Desire Unto Thee Is Bent

Discipline is a poem by the Welsh-born English poet, orator, and Anglican priest: George Herbert (1593–1633).  It is included in the Religious Poetry Appendix for Lent and Easter of the Divine Office (1974).


DISCIPLINE by George Herbert (Public Domain)

Throw away thy rod,
Throw away thy wrath:
O my God,
Take the gentle path.

For my hearts desire
Unto thine is bent:
I aspire
To a full consent.

Not a word or look
I affect to own,
But by book,
And thy book alone.

Though I fail, I weep:
Though I halt in pace,
Yet I creep
To the throne of grace.

Then let wrath remove;
Love will do the deed:
For with love
Stony hearts will bleed.

Love is swift of foot;
Love’s a man of war,
And can shoot,
And can hit from farre.

Who can scape his bow?
That which wrought on thee,
Brought thee low,
Needs must work on me.

Throw away thy rod;
Though man frailties hath,
Thou art God:
Throw away thy wrath.

Poem: The Killing

Altarpiece by Ernst Hildebrand - Courtesy Wikipedia

The Killing is by the Scottish poet, novelist, and translator: Edwin Muir (1887–1959). It was published in 1956, along with One Foot in Eden in his final collection of poetry. The Killing is included in the Religious Poetry Appendix for Lent and Easter of the Divine Office (1974).

Poem: One Foot in Eden

From These Beclouded Skies

One Foot in Eden is by the Scottish poet, novelist, and translator: Edwin Muir (1887–1959). Published in 1956, the poem delves into the predominant theme that carries through much of his work: Man's expulsion from Eden. He saw it as a kind of archetypal journey (in the Jungian sense) that is repeated again and again in each of our lives. To express this, he often drew upon his own family's move in 1901 from the agrarian and idyllic world of his childhood home on the Orkney Islands to the the gritty industrial city of Glasgow where his mother, father, and two brothers all died within 5 years of arriving. One Foot in Eden is included in the Religious Poetry Appendix for Lent and Easter of the Divine Office (1974).


Reading by Fr. John J. O'Riordain, CSsR from Mt. St. Alphonsus, Limerick


By Nicholas Maw (1935-2009), Performed by the Helsinki Chamber Choir