CAPG's Blog 

My God, I love Thee, not because
I hope for Heaven thereby;
Nor because they who love Thee not,
Must burn eternally.

Thou, O my Jesus, Thou didst me
Upon the Cross embrace;
For me didst bear the nails and spear,
And manifold disgrace;

And griefs and torments numberless,
And sweat of agony;
E'en death itself - and all for one
Who was Thine enemy.

Then why, O blessed Jesus Christ!
Should I not love Thee well?
Not for the sake of winning Heaven;
or of escaping Hell;

Not with the hope of gaining aught,
Nor seeking a reward;
But, as Thyself hast loved me,
O ever-loving Lord!

E'en so I love Thee, and will love,
And in Thy praise will sing;
Solely because Thou art my God,
And my eternal King.

Source: Beautiful Pearls of Catholic Truth, 1897

Type of the priesthood with its Virgin Spouse,
The Immaculate Church, our Mother ever fair!
Since even to me God’s wondrous grace allows
An office more than Seraphim may share,
I kneel to thee, most gentle Saint, and dare
To choose thee patron of the trust. O Make
My evermore fidelity thy care,
And keep me MARY’S – for Her own sweet sake!
Her knight before, and poet, now Her priest
(Not less Her slave: a thousandfold the more),
I glory in a bondage but increased,
and kiss the chain Her dear De Montfort wore,
With “Omnia Per Mariam” mottoed o’er,
Which seals me Her apostle – tho’ the least.

Feast of the Seven Dolors, March 31, 1871

Source: Poems: devotional and occasional. by Edmund of the Heart of Mary, Father, 1842-1916

I sat in the school of sorrow,
The Master was teaching there;
But my eyes were dim with weeping,
And my heart was full of care.

Instead of looking upward,
And seeing His face Divine
So full of the tenderest pity
For weary hearts like mine.

I only thought of the burdens,
The cross that before me lay,
So hard and heavy to carry
That it darkened the light of day.

So, I could not learn my lesson,
And say, Thy will be done;
And the Master came not near me
As the weary hours went on.

At last in my weary sorrow,
I looked from the cross above,
And I saw the Master watching
With a glance of tender love.

He turned to the cross before me,
And I thought I heard Him say:
"My child, thou must bear thy burden
And learn thy task to-day.

I may not tell the reason,
' Tis enough for thee to know
That I, the Master, am teaching,
And give this cup of woe."

So I stooped to that weary sorrow;
One look at that face Divine
Had given me power to trust Him,
And say, " Thy will, not mine."

And thus I learnt my lesson,
Taught by the Master alone;
He only knows the tears I shed,
But He has wept His own.

And from them comes a brightness
Straight from the Home above,
Where the School of Life will be ended,
And the cross will show the love.