HEAVEN.Whatman that is journeying abroad, doth not hasten backward to his native land? Who that is speeding a voyage toward them he loves, longs not with more ardor for a prosperous wind, that so he may embrace his friends the sooner?... It is a large and loving company who expect us there: parents, brothers, children, a manifold and numerous assemblage longing after us, who, having security of their own immortality, still feel anxious for our salvation.... Ah! perfect and perpetual bliss! There is the glorious company of the apostles; there is the assembly of prophets exulting; there is the innumerable multitude of martyrs, crowned after their victory of strife and passion; there are virgins triumphant, who have overcome, by vigor of continency, the concupiscence of the flesh and body.... To these, dearest brethren, let us with eager longings hasten: let it be the portion which we desire, speedily to be among them, speedily to be gone to Christ. God behold this thought of ours! This purpose of our mind and faith may the Lord Christ witness!—who will make the recompenses of his glory the larger according as man’s longings after him have been the stronger.—S. Cyprian.DIES IRÆ.Day of Doom! O day of terror!Prophet’s word, and Sibyl’s fingerPoint to one dread day of anger,When the skies shall warp and wither,Ocean shrink and dry together,Solid earth consume to cinder.Day of nature’s dissolution,Day of final retribution—Some to joy, and some to sorrow.Hark! the trumpet-blast terrific.How the dead, in mingled panic,Gather to the dread assizes!Death shall stand aghast, and Nature,When from dust the summoned creatureRises trembling to make answer.Ah, the wonder! oh, the wailing!When the heavens above unveiling,Show the Judge of all descending.Now begins the awful session.Sinner, make thy full confession;Naught avails the least evasion.Lo, the Book of Doom! each action,Secret sin, or bold transgression,Idle word, foul thought, is noted.Strictest justice is accorded;Grace to gracious deed afforded,Death to deadly sin awarded.Oh! where saints must fear and tremble,Could I stand the test, thus sinful?Could I find a plea for pardon?Could an advocate avail me?Pleas and advocates all fail me.Jesus! thou alone canst save me.Mighty Monarch! oh, rememberThat blest day of blest December—‘Twas for me the Virgin bore thee.Seeking me, beside the fountainThou didst rest thee; to the mountain,For my sake, thou didst betake thee;On that dear cross, to redeem me,Thou didst hang. Lord! is it seemly,So much costing, I should perish?Thou didst smile on Mary’s unction,Tearful love, and deep compunction,On the dying thief’s confession.Like them guilty, like them grieving,Like them loving, and believing,Lord! show me a like compassion.To thy mercy I confide me;From thy justice, Saviour, hide me,Ere that day of dread accounting.Oh, that day of strange uprising!Oh, that solemn criticising!Oh, that sentence past reversal!Peace to thee! departed brother,Tenant once of this cold clay!Jesus! give him rest alway. Amen.C. W.
HEAVEN.Whatman that is journeying abroad, doth not hasten backward to his native land? Who that is speeding a voyage toward them he loves, longs not with more ardor for a prosperous wind, that so he may embrace his friends the sooner?... It is a large and loving company who expect us there: parents, brothers, children, a manifold and numerous assemblage longing after us, who, having security of their own immortality, still feel anxious for our salvation.... Ah! perfect and perpetual bliss! There is the glorious company of the apostles; there is the assembly of prophets exulting; there is the innumerable multitude of martyrs, crowned after their victory of strife and passion; there are virgins triumphant, who have overcome, by vigor of continency, the concupiscence of the flesh and body.... To these, dearest brethren, let us with eager longings hasten: let it be the portion which we desire, speedily to be among them, speedily to be gone to Christ. God behold this thought of ours! This purpose of our mind and faith may the Lord Christ witness!—who will make the recompenses of his glory the larger according as man’s longings after him have been the stronger.—S. Cyprian.DIES IRÆ.Day of Doom! O day of terror!Prophet’s word, and Sibyl’s fingerPoint to one dread day of anger,When the skies shall warp and wither,Ocean shrink and dry together,Solid earth consume to cinder.Day of nature’s dissolution,Day of final retribution—Some to joy, and some to sorrow.Hark! the trumpet-blast terrific.How the dead, in mingled panic,Gather to the dread assizes!Death shall stand aghast, and Nature,When from dust the summoned creatureRises trembling to make answer.Ah, the wonder! oh, the wailing!When the heavens above unveiling,Show the Judge of all descending.Now begins the awful session.Sinner, make thy full confession;Naught avails the least evasion.Lo, the Book of Doom! each action,Secret sin, or bold transgression,Idle word, foul thought, is noted.Strictest justice is accorded;Grace to gracious deed afforded,Death to deadly sin awarded.Oh! where saints must fear and tremble,Could I stand the test, thus sinful?Could I find a plea for pardon?Could an advocate avail me?Pleas and advocates all fail me.Jesus! thou alone canst save me.Mighty Monarch! oh, rememberThat blest day of blest December—‘Twas for me the Virgin bore thee.Seeking me, beside the fountainThou didst rest thee; to the mountain,For my sake, thou didst betake thee;On that dear cross, to redeem me,Thou didst hang. Lord! is it seemly,So much costing, I should perish?Thou didst smile on Mary’s unction,Tearful love, and deep compunction,On the dying thief’s confession.Like them guilty, like them grieving,Like them loving, and believing,Lord! show me a like compassion.To thy mercy I confide me;From thy justice, Saviour, hide me,Ere that day of dread accounting.Oh, that day of strange uprising!Oh, that solemn criticising!Oh, that sentence past reversal!Peace to thee! departed brother,Tenant once of this cold clay!Jesus! give him rest alway. Amen.C. W.
Whatman that is journeying abroad, doth not hasten backward to his native land? Who that is speeding a voyage toward them he loves, longs not with more ardor for a prosperous wind, that so he may embrace his friends the sooner?... It is a large and loving company who expect us there: parents, brothers, children, a manifold and numerous assemblage longing after us, who, having security of their own immortality, still feel anxious for our salvation.... Ah! perfect and perpetual bliss! There is the glorious company of the apostles; there is the assembly of prophets exulting; there is the innumerable multitude of martyrs, crowned after their victory of strife and passion; there are virgins triumphant, who have overcome, by vigor of continency, the concupiscence of the flesh and body.... To these, dearest brethren, let us with eager longings hasten: let it be the portion which we desire, speedily to be among them, speedily to be gone to Christ. God behold this thought of ours! This purpose of our mind and faith may the Lord Christ witness!—who will make the recompenses of his glory the larger according as man’s longings after him have been the stronger.—S. Cyprian.
DIES IRÆ.Day of Doom! O day of terror!Prophet’s word, and Sibyl’s fingerPoint to one dread day of anger,When the skies shall warp and wither,Ocean shrink and dry together,Solid earth consume to cinder.Day of nature’s dissolution,Day of final retribution—Some to joy, and some to sorrow.Hark! the trumpet-blast terrific.How the dead, in mingled panic,Gather to the dread assizes!Death shall stand aghast, and Nature,When from dust the summoned creatureRises trembling to make answer.Ah, the wonder! oh, the wailing!When the heavens above unveiling,Show the Judge of all descending.Now begins the awful session.Sinner, make thy full confession;Naught avails the least evasion.Lo, the Book of Doom! each action,Secret sin, or bold transgression,Idle word, foul thought, is noted.Strictest justice is accorded;Grace to gracious deed afforded,Death to deadly sin awarded.Oh! where saints must fear and tremble,Could I stand the test, thus sinful?Could I find a plea for pardon?Could an advocate avail me?Pleas and advocates all fail me.Jesus! thou alone canst save me.Mighty Monarch! oh, rememberThat blest day of blest December—‘Twas for me the Virgin bore thee.Seeking me, beside the fountainThou didst rest thee; to the mountain,For my sake, thou didst betake thee;On that dear cross, to redeem me,Thou didst hang. Lord! is it seemly,So much costing, I should perish?Thou didst smile on Mary’s unction,Tearful love, and deep compunction,On the dying thief’s confession.Like them guilty, like them grieving,Like them loving, and believing,Lord! show me a like compassion.To thy mercy I confide me;From thy justice, Saviour, hide me,Ere that day of dread accounting.Oh, that day of strange uprising!Oh, that solemn criticising!Oh, that sentence past reversal!Peace to thee! departed brother,Tenant once of this cold clay!Jesus! give him rest alway. Amen.C. W.
DIES IRÆ.
Day of Doom! O day of terror!Prophet’s word, and Sibyl’s fingerPoint to one dread day of anger,
When the skies shall warp and wither,Ocean shrink and dry together,Solid earth consume to cinder.
Day of nature’s dissolution,Day of final retribution—Some to joy, and some to sorrow.
Hark! the trumpet-blast terrific.How the dead, in mingled panic,Gather to the dread assizes!
Death shall stand aghast, and Nature,When from dust the summoned creatureRises trembling to make answer.
Ah, the wonder! oh, the wailing!When the heavens above unveiling,Show the Judge of all descending.
Now begins the awful session.Sinner, make thy full confession;Naught avails the least evasion.
Lo, the Book of Doom! each action,Secret sin, or bold transgression,Idle word, foul thought, is noted.
Strictest justice is accorded;Grace to gracious deed afforded,Death to deadly sin awarded.
Oh! where saints must fear and tremble,Could I stand the test, thus sinful?Could I find a plea for pardon?
Could an advocate avail me?Pleas and advocates all fail me.Jesus! thou alone canst save me.
Mighty Monarch! oh, rememberThat blest day of blest December—‘Twas for me the Virgin bore thee.
Seeking me, beside the fountainThou didst rest thee; to the mountain,For my sake, thou didst betake thee;
On that dear cross, to redeem me,Thou didst hang. Lord! is it seemly,So much costing, I should perish?
Thou didst smile on Mary’s unction,Tearful love, and deep compunction,On the dying thief’s confession.
Like them guilty, like them grieving,Like them loving, and believing,Lord! show me a like compassion.
To thy mercy I confide me;From thy justice, Saviour, hide me,Ere that day of dread accounting.
Oh, that day of strange uprising!Oh, that solemn criticising!Oh, that sentence past reversal!
Peace to thee! departed brother,Tenant once of this cold clay!Jesus! give him rest alway. Amen.
C. W.