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"Know you not that your members are the Temple of the Holy Ghost?" I Cor. vi. 19

Come, I have found a Temple where to dwell;
Sealed up and watched by Spirits day and night
Behind the Veil there is a crystal Well.
The glorious cedar pillars sparkle bright,
All gemmed with big and glistening drops of dew,
That work their way from out yon hidden flood
By mystic virtue through the fragrant wood,
Making it shed a faint unearthly smell.
And from beneath the curtain, that doth lie
In rich and glossy folds of various hue,
Soft showers of pearly light run streamingly
Over the chequered floor and pavement blue.
Oh! that our eyes might see that Font of Grace,
But none hath entered yet his own heart's Holy Place.

Source: Poems, Fr. Frederick W. Faber

In vain the torch of glimmering flame
Touches you taper's cold unyielding white;
Yet why so feeble? Why so loth to light?
All around thee stand ablaze. Art not the same?

Nor soul, nor taper ventureth to reply,—
"The smoking flax, this dull, reluctant spark,
Enkindle, Lord." Quick answering through the dark,
The taper glows, the soul uplifts its cry.
O parable of Peace from One on high
That poor reluctant candle, Lord, am I.

Jesus! my Lord, my God, my All
How can I love Thee as I ought?
And how revere this wondrous gift
So far surpassing hope or thought?
Sweet Sacrament, we Thee adore!
Oh make us love Thee more and more.

Had I but Mary's sinless heart
To love Thee with, my dearest King,
Of with what bursts of fervent praise
Thy goodness, Jesus, would I sing!
Sweet Sacrament, we Thee adore,
Oh make us love Thee more and more.

Oh, see! within a creature's hand
The vast Creator deigns to be,
Reposing infant-like, as though
On Joseph's arm or Mary's knee,
Sweet Sacrament, we Thee adore!
Of make us love Thee more and more.

Thy Body, Soul, and Godhead all!
Oh, mystery of love divine!
I cannot compass all I have;
For all Thou hast and art are mine!
Sweet Sacrament, we Thee adore!
Of make us love Thee more and more. Amen.

Before yon earthly shrine, O dearest Lord,
Knelt two whose lives like tapers burn for Thee,
— Thy holy priests now, bearers of Thy Word,
And guardians of Thy Sacred Mystery.
Pure as the lily keep those human hearts,
And spotless as the Host those hallowed souls;
While far above the joy this world imparts,
Be theirs that peace Thy Sacred Word extols.
O make them strong and comfort them in pain,
In hour of trial sorrowing apart;
And lest their life-long sacrifice be vain,
Enclose them in Thy Sacred, Wounded Heart,

CARMENELLA.

Source: The Maine Catholic Historical Magazine, Volume 2
Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, Portland, Maine, December, 1913

Treading the Nazareth vale and mountain side,
Growing in age and grace with God and men,
Still to His parents subject; even then
Wedded was Christ's young heart to one fair Bride.

Oft for the mystic nuptial rite He sighed.
Fulfilling years and grace, He filled again
The measure of His love, nor rested when
Of love's excess upon the Cross He died.

Christ loves His Church, throughout all time His Spouse,
The all-fair Mother of an offspring born
And bound to Him in more than carnal ties.

In all things like the Master, may our vows
Of love for Mother Church both night and morn
Arise and mount unbroken to the skies!

Source: The Messenger of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, Vol. VIII  Feb, 1893

Oh! to think of him as Priest,
One short moment at the feast
Of the King.
One short season ’mid the vine,
Where the workers prune and twine,
Weep and sing.


It is well, as priest and man
‘Twas a guileless course he ran
Who can say
What sorrow, what deep dole,
Lay in wait for the young soul
Passed away?


Fare thee well; God grant thee rest,
And thy birthright’ mid the blest
May He give:
Thou didst speak His word, and break
The Life-Bread immortals take -
Thou shalt live.


Source: Rev. Dr. Howley, Ave Maria (June 1886)
Lyra Hieratica: poems on the priesthood / collected from many by Fr. Thomas Edward Bridgett,, 1829-1899.

Let us listen while the Spouse of the holy canticles addresses us these sweet words, and endeavour to comprehend them:

"I sleep," does He say, "and my heart watches."

Ah! if He had stopped at this one word I sleep, far from tasting therein the suavity, that I seek , I should find only disquietude and alarm. Jesus Christ sleeps, and the devil, my enemy, watches and prowls around me like a lion to devour. Jesus Christ sleeps, and my senses, constantly awake, lie in ambush for my soul to enslave it. Jesus Christ sleeps, who will watch for me? My love sleeps, on whom shall I rely, My strength sleeps, who will support me? My hope sleeps, in whom shall I trust?....

But He who is, at once, my love, my hope, my strength, leaves me not long in suspense. I sleep, says He, but my heart watches; and, lo! I am at once reassured. It is no heavy slumber which leaves the heart to watch; it is not a sleep of forgetfulness when the heart keeps vigil. If His heart watches, then He will love me; if His heart watches, then He will come to my aid. His heart will always find secret words to instruct me, and secret delights to charm me; what matters it that all in Him sleeps, if His heart watches? His heart is all. Sleep, Lord Jesus, I am tranquil, Thy heart watches.

Enough the blood of victims flowed of old,

The shadows pass, and legal offerings;

Now higher Ministries, Thou, Lord, dost mold,

On which a holier shade Thy Priesthood flings.

Elias from the Heavens called down the flame;

One Greater than Elias, hid from sight,

Is here, obedient to His awful Name;

Of Him we make the dread memorial Rite.

Great Office, the mysterious Cup to bear,

In which the guilty world’s Salvation lies,

And with our trembling hands, full of deep fear,

To offer up the Bloodless Sacrifice.

Oh, more than all to ancient Prophets given,

More than to Angels, if but understood,

That in our trembling hands the God of Heaven

Doth give Himself to be our Spirits’ Food.

Grant, Christ, that we, fulfilling Thy Commands,

Of Thy blest Presence may approach the Seat,

With hearts by Thee made pure, and holy hands;

May love for Thy dread Altars make us meet.

Son of th’Eternal Father, God above,

May all the world beneath Thy Feet adore,

Who sendest down the Spirit, with Thy Love

Thy Priesthood to anoint for evermore.

Source: Lyra Eucharistica : hymns and verses on the Holy Communion, ancient and modern ; with other poems by Shipley, Orby, 1832-1916

A Babe on the breast of his mother

Reclines in the valley of love,

And smiles like a beautiful lily

Caressed by the rays from above.

A child at the knee of his mother

Who is counting her decades of prayer,

Discovers the cross of her chaplet,

And kisses the Sufferer there.

A boy with a rosary kneeling

Alone in the temple of God,

And begging the wonderful favour

To walk where the Crucified trod.

A Student alone in his study,

With pallid and innocent face;

He raises his head from the pages

And lists to the murmur of grace.

A cleric with mortified features,

Studious, humble, and still,

In every motion a meaning,

In every action a will.

A Man at the foot of the altar -

A Christ at the foot of the cross,

Where every loss is a profit,

And every gain is a loss.

A Deified Man on a mountain,

His arms uplifted and spread -

With one he is raising the living,

with one he is loosing the dead.

Source: Rev. D. B. Collins (NewYork), from Irish Monthly (July, 1890)

Lyra Hieratica: poems on the priesthood / collected from many by Fr. Thomas Edward Bridgett,, 1829-1899.

By whose unworthy hands and trembling breath

The Victim-Priest renews His mystic death;

Whose functions bind him to thy highest care,

While conscience cries: “Presumptuous man, beware!”

O Glorious Queen, thy lamp was kindled bright

In thy Conception; yet, through all the night,

Waiting the King of kings, thy prudent toil

Trimmed and replenished it with purest oil:

My priestly lamp burns dim; oh! Pray thy Spouse

Within my sluggish spirit to arouse

The grace the priestly character demands,

Pledged by the Pontiff’s venerable hands.

Source: Lyra Hieratica: poems on the priesthood / collected from many by Fr. Thomas Edward Bridgett, 1829-1899.