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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 Life will be ended, 
And the cross will show the love. 

Breathe not his honored name,

Silently keep it.

Hushed be the saddening theme,

In secrecy weep it.

Call not a warmer flow

To eyes that are aching:

Wake not a deeper throe

In hearts that are breaking.

Oh! “tis a placid rest;

Who could deplore it?

Trance of the pure and blest,

Angels watch o’er it!

Sleep of his mortal night,

Sorrow can’t break it;

Heaven’s own morning light

Alone shall awake it.

Noble thy course is run;

Splendour is round it.

Bravely thy fight is won,

Freedom hath crowned it

In the high warfare

Of heaven grown hoary,

Thou art gone like the summer sun,

Shrouded in glory.

Twine, twine the victor’s wreath,

Spirits that meet him!

Sweet songs of triumph breather,

Seraphs that greet him!

From his high resting-place

Who shall him sever?

With his God, face to face,

Leave him forever.

Source: Messenger of the Sacred Heart, 1891.

Athwart the sky dun clouds came drearily:
I saw friends gently lower into earth,
The blessed one who dowered me with birth;
With Christ I seemed in lone Gethsemane,
Who said: This cross of grief, I give to thee.
Of earthly joys, today, how great the dearth!
My faith transforms all sorrows, into mirth,
'Twas hers; she gave Me, thee; give her to Me.

Dear Lord, when I, in Holy Sacrifice,
Thy Precious Blood will shed with mystic knife,
Extinguish with it Purgatory's fire;
Thus aidance give, my mother's soul to rise
From out her prison to eternal life,
To gaze fore'er on Thee, her heart's desire.

Source: Sonnets an other verses, Rev. Fr. Francis A. Gaffney, O.P. 1916

conferred with the formula
«We baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit»

QUESTIONS

First question: Whether the Baptism conferred with the formula «We baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit» is valid?

Second question: Whether those persons for whom baptism was celebrated with this formula must be baptized in forma absoluta?

RESPONSES

To the first question: Negative.

To the second question: Affirmative.

The Supreme Pontiff Francis, at the Audience granted to the undersigned Cardinal Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, On June 8, 2020, approved these Responses and ordered their publication.

Rome, from the Offices of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, June 24, 2020, on the Solemnity of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist.

Luis F. Card. Ladaria, S.I.
Prefect

Source: Vatican Press

We read in last Sunday's Gospel, (the Octave of the Epiphany), that at the age of twelve our Lord remained in the temple disputing with the doctors, and when found by Mary and Joseph, who had been sorrowfully seeking Him, He replied:" Nesciebatis quia in his quoe Patris mei sunt, oportet me esse." (St. Luke ii. 49)

Well, we also are, or ought to be, about our Father's business, the saving of the souls of our brethren. This alone is our mission. For ourselves especially, we must strive to convert the poor of St. Galla and in the country districts. This is what God asks of each one of us.

How have we responded to the call? To take one thing only, how have we taught the catechism? Parvuli petierunt panem et non erat qui frangeret eis. We go and preach in public places, but with what ardor? Are we not glad of the smallest excuse to escape it? The souls of our neighbors are in our hands, and yet how many are lost through our fault? The sick die without being properly prepared, for we have not given time or care enough to each particular case. We are easily rebuffed, and ready enough to leave them, and say to ourselves: "Well, after all, it's their own fault if they won't listen to us." Yet, with a little more patience, a little more perseverance, a little more love, in fact, we could have led those poor souls to heaven. Many among us shrink from going to the hospitals, either on account of fear of infection, or from the sights and smells that await us there. Courage!

We are not come into the world to follow our own will and pleasure, but to imitate our Lord. "No quoero voluntatem mean, sed voluntatem ejus qui mist me." (St. John v. 36) If we experience some repugnance in our work, either from its nature, or from the unwillingness of the poor to listen to us, let us think of the example of St. Francis of Sales, who shrunk from no labor, no fatigue, and was rewarded by the conversion of seventy thousand heretics, and when reproached for having shortened his life by these means, replied, " It is nor necessary that I should live, but it is necessary that souls should be saved." This should be our motto. Let us, then, learn greater perseverance in good works; do not let us get tepid and hopeless when unexpected difficulties arise, but let us strive courageously to surmount them, being thoroughly persuaded that such is the will of God.

Again, let us ask ourselves, " How did the saints act in similar circumstances?" Look at ST. Philip Neri and St. Igantius. The first was sent for to assist a lady on her death bed. Her husband imagined, in his blind fury, that she would be persuaded to make a will in the saint's favor, and maddened by cupidity, declared that if the holy man came near the house he would kill him. St. Philip, nothing daunted, went to the lady, and administered to her all the last sacraments, and by thereby fulfilling simply what he felt was the will of God escaped all injury.

In the time of St. Ignatius, a certain convent had become a subject of public scandal, from the freedom given in the parlor, where all the smartest young men of the city went to see the nuns. St. Ignatius, with enormous difficulty, induced these faithless religious to return to their duties and banish their visitors in spite of the menaces of the young men, who, finding that St. Ignatius was determined to carry out his purpose, waylaid him one night and beat him till he was nearly dead. Nevertheless, the Saint persevered because he felt he was thereby doing the will of God.

Such examples should stimulate our zeal and our constancy. But we need only imitate certain pious laics of our acquaintance, both men and women, who show themselves real apostles of charity, nursing the sick, assisting them in their last hours, hastening to procure good confessors for them, and the like. Shall we be outdone by these voluntary laborers? I do not say  that there must not be prudence in our actions; and that unwise zeal sometimes does much harm; but who does not feel his heart burn with the fire of charity for the many suffering, abandoned souls in this sad world? We fancy that we have this love, but how do we prove it?  To believe is not enough; we must test it by our actions, prove it by our deeds, toil for them in the sweat of our brow. Without this, how can we declare we have real charity?

Rome is full of ignorance and blindness of heart. Grievous sins are committed constantly in this city; its inhabitants will not listen to those who strive to put Christian thoughts into their minds. They only hearken to worldly advice, and turn a deaf ear to all that comes from God. In so great a peril, who is to be found who will really devote himself to find a remedy? Alas! Charity in our day has waxed cold.

There are honors high and worthy,
That the world may prize to see,
There are kings before whose scepter,
Proudlings bend their will and knee;
There is power to chain the captives,
or to bid them go released,
But there's one with higher honor,
and with power divine - the priest.

There are hands whose deeds of valor,
or whose works of skill so grand,
Have the world's applaudits challenged,
Meed of praise they could command,
But the works of God's anointed
Higher stand - yes, e'en the least;
He can free sin's helpless captives,
Satan's chains breaks he - the priest.

There are voices at whose summons
Men arise and men obey,
There are voices to whose power,
To Whose charms men homage pay.
But there is a voice whose power
Brings the King from Heaven's feast
To repose upon our altars,
'Tis the voice of him - the priest.

There are years with merit laden,
Years that sweetest joys afford -
They are years of faithful service
In the vineyard of the Lord
Honor highest, power greatest,
Souls absolved, from sin released,
Hands that hold the God of heaven,
Yes, all these can claim - the priest.

Source: Our Young People 1916

                                                                                       (Image Source: GoogleBooks)

Before the altar stands the vested priest,
His face illumined with the spirit's light,
Though conscious, awed by his exalted right
To offer sacrifice.

From sin released through prayer and fast,
His strength by grace increased,
He pours the Wine of love into the chalice bright,
Lifts from the paten Life's Bread pure and white,
Invokes the Presence for the Sacred Feast,
Adores the Lamb of Whom the Saints are fed.
 The heavens part, rejoicing Angels see
Uplifted eyes, anointed hands outspread
O'er silent worshippers, while fervently
 A blessing falls with peace upon each head.
O miracle sublime! O mystery.

Source: by Rev. R.S. Dewey, S.J. The Messenger of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. July, 1891

Ye would not sit at ease while meek men kneel
Did ye but see His face shine though the veil,
And the unearthly forms that round you steal,
Hidden in beauteous light, splendent or pale
As the rich Service leads. And prostrate faith
Shroudeth her timorous eye, while through the air
Hovers and hands the Spirit's cleansing Breath
In Whitsun shapes o'er each true worshiper.
Deep wreaths of Angels, burning from the East,
Around the consecrated Shrine are braced,
The awful Stone where by fit hands are placed
The Flesh and Blood of the tremendous Feast.
But kneel - the priest upon the Altar-stair
Will bring a blessing out of Sion there.

Source: Poems by Fr. Frederick W. Faber

That such a Power should live and breather, doth seem
A thought from which men fain would be relieved,
A grandeur not to be endured, a dream
Darkening the souls, though it be unbelieved.
August conception! far above king, law,
Or popular right; how calmly doth thou draw
Under thine awful shadow mortal pain,
And joy not mortal! Witness of a need
Deep laid in man, and therefore pierced in vain,
As though thou wert no form that thou shouldst bleed!
While such a power there lives in old man's shape,
Such and so dread, should not his mighty will
And supernatural presence, godlike fill
The air we breathe, and leave us no escape?

Source: Poems by Fr. Frederick W. Faber