Saint Isidor Farmer

Prayer in Honor of Saint Isidore the Farmer

O God, who taught Adam the simple art of tilling the soil, and who through Jesus Christ, the true vine, revealed yourself the husbandman of our souls, deign, we pray, through the merits of blessed Isidore, to instill into our hearts a horror of sin and a love of prayer, so that, working the soil in the sweat of our brow, we may enjoy eternal happiness in heaven, through the same Christ our Lord. Amen. (St. Isidore's Garden)

The Rural Life Prayer Book

AN ODE TO ST. ISIDORE.

(St. Isidore, Patron of Madrid, was an humble laborer who sanctified himself in the midst of his daily toils. While his hand guided the plough, his heart communed with God and His holy Angels. The various aspects of nature gave him continual food for divine contemplation.)

Wake not the golden stringed lyres,
Let their rich music sleep;
Be still, be still, ye human choirs,
Ye lutes a silence keep;
For birds snowy wing and breast,
And scented winds among the trees,
And wells that in deep valleys rest,
And sunlit streams that gild the leas,
Will claim their right for evermore
To sing pure-soul'd Isidore,

There comes a voice from hidden lakes,
Softer than Summer's breeze,
There swells a hum by lonely brakes,
Like music on the seas.
The tempest-breath shakes mountain-peak,
And 'mong the rocks makes melody;
The birds through all the forests speak
In tones of richest harmony;
And all in measured numbers pour
The praises of St. Isidore.

Teach us, meek Saint, we humbly pray,
The Lord in all to view,
His steps to trace in meadows gay,
And in the heavens blue;
To read His Beauty in each flower
That we espy in cultured dell,
To know what is the awful power
That bound the vale by rocky fell;
May all in Nature we explore
Lead us to God and Isidore.

(Irish Scholars of the Penal Days: Glimpses of Their Labors on the Continent by Rev. William P. Treacy, 1889)