Sunday, February 24, 2008

Audi, Benigne Conditor

A verse translation. It's as nearly literal as I could make it; enjoy!

O merciful Creator, hear
The prayers we offer tearfully,
Poured out as we, these forty days,
Fast and abstain repentantly.

O thou who readest every heart,
Thou knowest all our strength is vain;
Grant then the grace of pardon to
The souls who turn to thee again.

Much we have sinned, indeed, but still
Have mercy on our sins confessed
And for the glory of thy name
Give fainting souls thy healing blest.

Grant us our flesh to wear away
Beneath the burden of our fast
That thus our guilty, sinning hearts
Their load of crime away may cast.

Grant us, O blessed Trinity,
And simple Unity, concede
In this thy fast of forty days,
May many fruits from it proceed.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

another poem!

Now newly titled, inspired by crusader88's comment:

Mater Pulchri Amoris

Thou art the sun and moon, the day and night,
The sunrise glory and the sunset light...
The beauty that the weaver of the world
Threaded through thee and in thy fair flesh furled
Can but be hinted at in words like these,
For all words break and fail, like stormy seas,
When at thy feet we gaze upon thy face,
So glorious and so pure - so full of grace.

We kneel before thee and we kiss thy feet --
Unworthily we do it, Mother sweet,
For who of all our fallen human race
Of his own merit merits such a grace?--
And call to thee for aid amid our pain,
Oft borne for such great loss - for such small gain!
But thou, upon the pale moon's crescent throne,
Wilt smile on us to say, "Thou'rt not alone,
I too have suffered, child of mine, for thee;
Else how could I thine own true Mother be?"
For this our Mother we to call thee dare,
Knowing that thou wilt hear thy children's prayer.

©InĂ©s de Erausquin 2008

Monday, February 4, 2008

Tradidit Quod Et Accepit

A tribute to the great Archbishop Lefebvre. The title is also on his tomb, I believe - I have passed on what I have received.

Marcel Lefebvre,
Our bishop great,
A priest for all
To imitate,

He battled 'gainst
The modernist
With pen and prayer
Change to resist.

He did not faint,
he did not falter
He trained true priests
To mount the altar,

To say the Mass,
The Mass divine
Not the new Mass -
The Tridentine.

God rest him now,
Our great Marcel
He, to restore
In Christ, fought well.

He suffered much
And often grieved
But he passed on
What he'd received.