Vision of the Wounds
by VP
Posted on Thursday February 26, 2026 at 11:00PM in Poetry
Visions of the Wounds
Two Hands have haunted me for days,
Two Hands of slender shape
All crushed and torn, as in the press
is bruised the purple grape;
At work or meals Palms I see;
And a plaintive Voice keeps whispering,
"These Hands were pierced for thee."
For me, sweet Lord, for me?
"Yea, even so, ungrateful thing.
These Hands were pierced for thee!"
Thro' toils and dangers pressing on,
as thro' a fiery flood,
Two slender Feet, beside mine own,
Mark every step with blood.
The swollen veins so rent with nails,
It breaks my heart to see;
While the same sad Voice cries out afresh:
"These Feet were pierce for thee."
For me, dear Christ, for me?
"Yea, even so, rebellious flesh.
These Feet were pierced for thee!"
As on they journey to the close,
Those wounded Feet and mine,
Distincter still the Vision grows,
And more and more divine;
For in my Guide's wide-open Side,
The cloven Heart I see,
And the tender Voice is moved to moan:
"This Heart was pierce for thee."
For me, great God, for me?
"Yea, enter in, My Love, Mine own,
This Heart was pierced for thee!"
Eleanor C. Donnelly (1838-1917)
Our Young People, Volume 40, No 2 Feb 1931
The Old Church
by VP
Posted on Monday February 23, 2026 at 11:00PM in Poetry
Procession near Ploumanac'h, 1879 Léon Lhermitte (Brittany, France)
"Tis not a ship on the tossing waves
That the Old Church seems to me,
But a guide light set on a headland high
And gleaming over the sea.
Lit by the breath of Christ Our Lord,
As He sat with His friends to rest,
Where the waves of the blue Genesareth
Kissed the land that His presence blessed.
The powers of earth may chase the gleam
Of will-o'-the-whisps that fly.
But their good ships reel on the sunken rocks,
and the false lights flickering die.
But Thou, white light of the breath of Christ,
Thou shinest across the foam,
Till the shoals are past and the anchor cast
The light is the light of home.
H.H.H., in Irish Catholic
Source: Our Young People, Volumes 39-40
Devout Adress to the Holy Face
by VP
Posted on Monday February 16, 2026 at 11:00PM in Poetry
O Face Divine!
O Face most sorrowful yet so benign!
So beauteous still in grief, towards me incline!
O Sacred Eyes!
On which the weight of dreaded anguish lies,
That look must break the heart which Christ denies.
O Lips so meek!
Unless their all absolving word I seek,
Those lips one day eternal doom will speak.
O Sacred Face!
Which mortal hand has dared with prayer to trace,
Thee on my heart with throbs of awe I place.
O Face Divine!
Give me of love returned some blissful sign;
O Face Divine, in grief towards me incline.
Source: Sister Saint-Pierre and the Work of Reparation, Rev. P. Janvier
A Desire
by VP
Posted on Thursday December 25, 2025 at 12:00AM in Poetry
O, to have dwelt in Bethlehem
When the star of the Lord shone bright!
To have sheltered the Holy wanderers
on that blessed Christmas night;
Thou have kissed the tender way worn feet
Of the Mother undefiled,
And with reverent wonder and deep delight,
To have tended the Holy Child!
Hush! such a glory was not for Thee;
But that care may still be Thine;
For are there not little ones still to aide
For the sake of the Child divine?
Are there no wandering pilgrims now
To thy heart and thy home to take?
And are there no mothers whose weary hearts
You can comfort for Mary's sake?
Source: Messenger of the Sacred Heart, Adelaide A. Procter 1891
St. Flavian, MARTYR.
by VP
Posted on Sunday December 21, 2025 at 11:00PM in Poetry
"A NOBLE Roman, who by order of Julian the Apostate had his face disfigured with those marks of infamy, which were the usual punishment of thieves and malefactors. Being afterwards cast forth into banishment, he there gave himself wholly to prayer, and prepared for that life, for which he had contemned all that is in this.
The festivals of martyrs often return, that you may give glory to the Head of the martyrs, and learn something of their spirit. And what advance have you hitherto made? How do you bear reproaches and contempts? How do you submit to the daily difficulties of your state: to the distempers and pains, with which God is pleased to visit you? How do you bear the trouble of your own infirmities and indiscretion? Resentments, impatience, and passion may be your inclination, but ought not to be allowed and indulged in, if уou think to walk by the patterns so often set before you. Stand then with resolution against all such weakness, and begging the patience of the martyrs, bend down your neck to the trouble, whatever it be, that so you may come to the practice of what you profess.
Pray that you may improve in virtue under all trials; and take care, while you profess to honour the martyrs, that you dishonour not their festivals, by passion or impatience. If you can happily overcome these evils, and quietly submit to those exercises of trouble,
which God is pleased to ordain for your portion, this will lay good
dispositions in your soul, such as will bring you to the reward of a martyr, though you may never be called to shed your blood for Christ, patience and contentment under all troubles are the dispositions of a martyr; there is nothing wanting, but the hand of the executioner." The Catholic Year by Fr. John Gother
Ballade to our Lady of Czestochowa by Hilaire Belloc
by VP
Posted on Tuesday August 26, 2025 at 12:00AM in Poetry
The image of the Holy Virgin of Częstochowa (derivative, after 1714), collection of Radomysl Castle
I
LADY and Queen and Mystery manifold
And very Regent of the untroubled sky,
Whom in a dream St Hilda did behold
And heard a woodland music passing by :
You shall receive me when the clouds are high
With evening and the sheep attain the fold.
This is the faith that I have held and hold,
And this is that in which I mean to die.
II
Steep are the seas and savaging and cold
In broken waters terrible to try;
And vast against the winter night the wold,
And harbourless for any sail to lie.
But you shall lead me to the lights, and I
Shall hymn you in a harbour story told.
This is the faith that I have held and hold,
And this is that in which I mean to die.
III
Help of the half-defeated, House of gold,
Shrine of the Sword, and Tower of Ivory;
Splendour apart, supreme and aureoled,
The Battler's vision and the World's reply.
You shall restore me, O my last Ally,
To vengeance and the glories of the bold.
This is the faith that I have held and hold,
And this is that in which I mean to die.
Envoi
These verses, written in your crumbling sty,
Proclaim the faith that I have held and hold
And publish that in which I mean to die.
Source: Sonnets and Verse by Hilaire Belloc Duckworth, 1923
Tu Es Sacerdos in Aeternum
by VP
Posted on Sunday July 27, 2025 at 12:00AM in Poetry
(Written for a Sacerdotal Jubilee.)
____________
By Rev. H.T. Henry, Litt.D.
____________
“Thou art a Priest forever,”
To offer bread and wine—
A mystic King of Salem
At great Jehovah’s shrine:
Melchizedek prefigured
Thy Priesthood more divine,
That fills the empty Symbol,
And deifies the Sign!
For God lies on thy Altar
Beneath the veils of Bread;
The Wine thy Chalice lifteth
Is Precious Blood instead;
Thou offerest the Victim,
And lo! from Heaven are shed
God’s graces on the living,
His mercies on the dead.
How oft that Cup was lifted
Thy flock from hell to save!
How oft that Bread of Angels
Thy hand anointed gave!
How oft thy mighty blessing
Released the demon’s slave,
And thy last benediction
Made sweet the dreaded grave!
Who then shall tell the story
The court of Heaven hears?
How oft this wondrous Priesthood
Through five and twenty years
Hath spurred the saintly onward
And calmed their pressing fears,
Or sweetly drawn from sinners
A flood of saving tears?
O mightier thy power
Than earthly kings may claim:
More splendorous thy glory
Than Seer’s or Sage’s name:
Who canst, with lip of human,
God’s word of pardon frame,
That lifts from hopeless sinners
An everlasting shame!
To-day with joy thy people
The silver chaplet see
That crowns an epoch rounded
Of fruitful ministry:
O may the praise they utter
A mystic presage be
Of the unending triumph
In Heaven’s Jubilee—
Where thou, “a Priest forever,”
Shalt see no more the Sign:
The fat of wheaten harvest,
The ferment of the vine;
Shalt see no more the Symbols
Of lowly Bread and Wine,
But face to face the Victim
In the New Salem’s shrine!
Source: Eucharistica
Verse and Prose in Honour of the Hidden God H. T. Henry, Litt.D.
The Dolphin Press (Philadelphia: 1912) pp. 32-33.
A Bed-Ridden Priesthood
by VP
Posted on Wednesday July 23, 2025 at 12:00AM in Poetry
St. Jean Vianney
Oh! it is good to stand each day,
A trembling, happy priest,
And offer up the Victim-God
And taste the heavenly feast.
But it is better yet to lie
Helpless, alone and still,
God’s victim on a bed of pain,
A martyr to His will.
To feed on Jesus is the life
Of all th’angelic host,
To suffer and to sigh for Him
No seraphim can boast.
Source: Rev. Edmund Vaughan, C.SS.R.
Lyra Hieratica: poems on the priesthood / collected from many by Fr. Thomas Edward Bridgett,, 1829-1899.
St. Cyril, Bishop and Martyr, A.D. 200
by VP
Posted on Wednesday July 09, 2025 at 12:00AM in Poetry
"He was bishop of Gortina in Candia. He had faithfully observed the divine law from his childhood, and governed the church of Gortina fifty-four years. Not content with preserving those of his flock in the purity of their faith, he laboured so effectually to increase the fold, that he converted a great number of pagans, and at the end of his life had the consolation to see almost the whole city submit to the true religion. He was apprehended at the age of eighty-eight, and upon his refusal to sacrifice to idols, was threatened with death, and exhorted to have pity on his venerable old age. "Do not regard my old age," he replied: "the God whom I serve has promised to renew my youth as that of an eagle.” The judge seeing him resolute, condemned him to the fire. This sentence filled the holy prelate with joy. Being cast into the flames, they left him untouched, and upon the surprise of the miracle, he was set at liberty. But the governor, being again provoked by new information of his zeal in the conversion of heathens, ordered him to die by the sword.
It is an ill sign, if you find all in peace about you. For the malice of the devil is so great against those, who live up to their duty, and give example of good to all who are witnesses of their conversation, that he seldom fails of giving those disturbance by an inward war, or by raising enemies against them. If you experience this his perverseness; to be dejected with the thoughts of your being unhappy, or to be impatient under the trouble, is that which will give him matter of triumph. For it is a part of his victory, to cast those into discouragement, whom he cannot draw into sin. But if you can keep up your spirits in the midst of his attempts, and learn to rejoice in what you suffer in the cause of virtue, and for being faithful to your God, the victory
will be yours, and though encompassed with flames, you will escape
without hurt. Therefore never yield to dejection, if you desire to
overcome." The Catholic Year by Fr. John Gother
