To St. John Francis Regis (June 16.)
by VP
Posted on Sunday June 16, 2024 at 12:00AM in Poetry
Wikipedia
"Everything good that I have done, I owe to him" St. John Baptiste Vianney Catholic Encyclopedia p 465
"A
sudden inspiration one day entered his mind, which, after consulting
his director, he carried into effect. He made a vow to go on foot,
asking alms as he went, to the tomb of St. John Francis Regis; to ask,
through his intercession, the gift of sufficient learning to enable him
to become a good and faithful labourer in the vineyard of the Lord. His
prayer was heard. St. John Francis Regis, to who he ever afterwards bore
a special devotion, obtained for him the grace he had asked in a
measure which astonished his master and those who had felt most hopeless
of his success." Life of Saint John-Baptist Vianney, Curé d'Ars by
Monnin, Alfred, p22.
To St. John Francis Regis (June 16.)
[A.D. 1507-1640]
Few know thy name, St. Francis Regis! Few
Beyond thy native hills pay homage due,
Save those thy brothers and dear friends, who share
That slandered name it was thy pride to bear.
Nay, some who know thee need to ask thy claim
To shining aureole and saintly fame.
What wast thou? what hast suffered? what hast done,
That 'mid his heroes God hath ranked thee one?
No novice-prince who, yet a boy hath given
Honour, and wealth, and prouder hopes for heaven -
No hermit hoar, who long, long years hath passed
In lonely watching and in cruel fast;
No fiery martyr, who hath meek defied
The tyrant at the stake, and smiling died.
Thy story reads not like a wild romance,-
It never strays from polished modern France,
Where, 'mid the rudest of her southern steeps,
Its stream unseen, but fertilizing, creeps.
Yet in that homely sphere of some score miles,
What restless, tranquil zeal - what saintly wiles
For luring souls to God! Ah, wherefore roam?
The hero finds a hero's work at home.
Oh, thou hard-toiling missionary-saint!
Not thine in such dull martyrdom to faint.
The winter's ice, men's freezing doubts and sneers,
Chilled not thy glow, but thawed beneath thy tears.
Dauntless in labour, patient to endure,
The firm, the mild apostle of the poor.
Francis and Lewis here in one behold -
Xavier at home, Gonzaga twice as old.
Oh, gray-haired Aloysius! Yes, that name
When thou wast young, thy virtues well might claim,
Hadst thou, like him, been early snatched away,
Not left to bear the "burden of the day."
But thou liv'dst on, God spared thee to his earth,
Keeping thee innocent as at thy birth,
That first true birth when o'er thy baby-brow
The waters flowed, and left thee pure as snow-
Pure none the less when, after many a year
Of earnest faith, of humble, loving fear,
After great things for his sake done and borne,
God bade the peasant of the Velais mourn,
Mourn for thy loss.
Oh, great St. Regis, pray
That we, thy brothers, in our meaner way
God's work may do: from many a soul to burst
The glittering fetters of the king accursed.
Teach us to share thy burning, melting love
For Him who on the right-hand reigns above,
Yet hides upon our altars. Oh, great heart!
In thy rich treasures gain for us a part: -
The meekness of thy strength, so gay, so sure -
Thy wistful fondness for God's outcast poor -
Thy yearning for the sinner, hate of sin -
Thy filial pride in her whose breast within
Thy boyhood and thy manhood calmly sped.
Ah! may she lead us on as thou wast led.
She is the same great Mother still; but we,
St. Francis Regis! are not like to thee.
source: Madonna: Verses on Our Lady and the Saints, by the Rev. Matthew Russell, S.J. 1880
