Lute

“ Drum lässt er mich vor seinen Thron.
Er liebt mich nunmehr als sein Kind,
Weil ich mich eingekleidt befind
In seines Sohnes Blutes Kleid,
Und öffnet mir die Himmelsfreud.
Mein Jesu, schenk mir deinen Geist,
Der mir vor dem, was Sünde heisst,
Ein Graun und Abscheu für und für
Erwecke, und zur Reu mich führ;
Dass ich nicht wieder auf mich lad
Die Sündenschuld durch Sündenthat,
Auf dass ich nicht des Vaters Huld
Verscherzen mög durch meine Schuld.
So sterb ich auch in deiner Huld,
Befreit von aller Straf und Schuld,
Und komme zu dem Abendmahl,
Das ewig ist ins Himmelssaal. ”

“ On that little hill by the city of Florence, where the lovers of Giorgione are lying, it is always the solstice of noon, of noon made so languorous by summer suns that hardly can the slim naked girl dip into the marble tank the round bubble of clear glass, and the long fingers of the lute-player rest idly upon the chords. It is twilight always for the dancing nymphs whom Corot set free among the silver poplars of France. In eternal twilight they move, those frail diaphanous figures, whose tremulous white feet seem not to touch the dew-drenched grass they tread on. ”

“ Grant, We beseech thee, O Lord Jesus Christ, that the Blessed Virgin Mary, thy Mother, may intercede for us With thy clemency, now and at the hour of our death, who at the hour of thy passion was pierced in her most holy soul by the sword of sorrow; grant this, O Jesus Christ, Saviour of the world, who, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, liveth and reigneth, world without end. Amen.
A perpetual indulgence of 300 days, applicable to the dead, to all Christians every time they shall recite the above exercise in honour of the sorrowful heart of the most blessed Virgin. ”

“ O eternal Father, through the merits of the death of Thy Son, Jesus Christ, make me to die in Thy grace, and in Thy love, that I may come to love Thee throughout eternity. I thank Thee for all the graces Thou hast given me through my life, and especially for the great grace of Thy holy faith, and for having caused me to receive, in these my last days, all the holy Sacraments. Thou wiliest that I should die, and I desire to die to please Thee. It is little, oh Jesus, my Saviour, that I should die for Thee, Who hast died for me. ”

“ But never yet did man come to the thorough conviction of soul but what he acknowledged the sovereign necessity of prayer. In my awe, in my rapture, all my thoughts seemed enlarged and illumined and exalted. I prayed,—all my soul seemed one prayer. All my past, with its pride and presumption and folly, grew distinct as the form of a penitent, kneeling for pardon before setting forth on the pilgrimage vowed to a shrine. And, sure now, in the deeps of a soul first revealed to myself, that the Dead do not die forever, my human love soared beyond its brief trial of terror and sorrow. ”

“ Come to me, dear Lord, and if thou nowhere else findest rest, infuse thyself wholly into my soul. May the fire of thy love, O God, ever burn in my heart, and increase to such a flame as may consume not only the sacrifice but the altar also.
Let nothing be my comfort but thou, my Lord Jesus, nor anything afflict me but my sins and whatever is displeasing to thy divine Majesty.
O blessed Jesus! Life eternal! by whom I live, and without whom I die, grant I may be united to thee, that in the embraces of thy holy love and divine will I may rest for ever. ”

“ They lift their hands and bless God in the night Whilst we are sleeping: Those to whom the King Has measured out a cup of sorrow, sweet With his dear love; yet very hard to drink, Are waking in his temple; and the eyes That cannot sleep for sorrow or for pain Are lifted up to heaven, and sweet low songs Broken by patient tears, arise to God. “The priests must serve Each in his course, and we must stand in turn Awake with sorrow in the temple dim, To bless the Lord by night. We will not fear When we are called at midnight by some stroke Of sudden pain, to rise and minister Before the Lord. ”

“ The loftiest place is the seat of grace For which all worldlings try: But who would stand in hempen band Upon a scaffold high, And through a murderer's collar take His last look at the sky? It is sweet to dance to violins When Love and Life are fair: To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes Is delicate and rare: But it is not sweet with nimble feet To dance upon the air! So with curious eyes and sick surmise We watched him day by day, And wondered if each one of us Would end the self-same way, For none can tell to what red Hell His sightless soul may stray. ”

“ Beauty and innocence in Death's embrace,
It seemed a mournful thing to waken them.
Another prayer arose—and he, whose faith
Had power o'er Nature's elements, to seal
The dripping cloud, to wield the lightning's dart,
And soon, from death escaping, was to soar
On car of flame up to the throne of God,
Long, long, with labouring breast, and lifted eyes,
Solicited in anguish. On the dead
Once more the prophet gazed. ”

“ Nature's tear at parting, cannot be restrained. Yet let no violent and bitter sorrow, visit the death-bed of the christian. It is a pagan sentiment. It should find no place near their pillow, for whom Christ died. While we mourn, the happy, unfettered spirit, traverses a celestial region. ”

“ Believing all that Thou, my God, hast in any way revealed to us — grieving for all my sins, offenses, and negligences — hoping in Thee, O Lord, Who wilt never let me be confounded— thanking Thee for this supreme gift, and for all the gifts of Thy goodness — loving Thee, above all in this sacrament of Thy love — adoring Thee in this deepest mystery of Thy condescension: I lay before Thee all the wounds and wants of my poor soul, and ask for all that I need and desire. ”

“ Hail, most precious Blood, flowing so lavishly from the wounds of Jesus. Hail, adorable Wounds of my Saviour, tokens of his love and price of our redemption, inflicted on Jesus in his Passion, and now radiant as stars in the highest heaven. Oh, write my name in these thy Wounds, good Jesus, and hide me therein from the face of the tempter. And by the many wounds and merits of all thy sacred Limbs, vouchsafe to my soul at its departure hence that innocence which thou hast acquired for thy Church by their several anguish and passion. Amen. ”

“ CONSIDER how Jesus, after three hours’ agony on the Cross, consumed with anguish, abandoned himself to the weight of his body, bowed his sacred head, and died.
O my dying Jesus, I kiss devoutly the Cross on which thou didst die for the love of me. I have merited by my sins to die a miserable death, but thy death is my hope. Ah! by the merits of thy death, give me grace to die embracing thy feet, and burning with love for thee. I commit my soul to thy hands. I love thee, O Jesus, above all things. ”

“ And so I pray—Lord, pardon if I sin!— That I may lose in death's embittered wave The stain of sinful loving, and may find In glory again the love I lost below, With all of fair and bright and unattained, Beautiful in the cherishing smile of God, By the glad waters of the River of Life! Night hangs above the valley; dies the day In peace, casting his last glance on my cross, And warns me to my prayers. ”

“ Sorrow and death, as joy and life, are at the breath of a mercy divine, and a wisdom all-seeing: and out of the hours of evil thou drawest, in mystic circle, the eternity of Good. 'Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.' If, O Disposer of events, our human prayers are not adverse to thy pre-judged decrees, protect these lives, the bulwarks of our homes and altars, sons whom the land offers as a sacrifice. ”

“ And wilt thou perish still?
Thy message given, thine home in sight,
To the forbidden feast return?
Yield to the false delight
Thy better soul could spurn?
Alas, my brother! round thy tomb
In sorrow kneeling, and in fear,
We read the Pastor’s doom
Who speaks and will not hear.
The grey-haired saint may fail at last,
The surest guide a wanderer prove;
Death only binds us fast
To the bright shore of love. ”

“ Call Thou my soul, in love;
That love divine I make my plea,
O may that love encircle me.
[93] τὸν πιστὸν οἰκέτην σου, ἀνάπαυσον
ὡς εὔσπλαγχνος.
Burial of a priest
I
Rest in the Lord, O servant by His grace,
Dwell in His courts, and gaze upon His face,
Know nought of toil, of weariness, or woe,
They rest who serve, not weary, as below.
II
Rest in the Lord, the strife of war is past,
Wear now the wreath of victory at last;
E’en death is slain,—the cross of Christ sufficed,
Death is not death, to those who live in Christ. ”

“ Shall now be thine, and on thy funeral pyre
Such fatal woods shall burn, such chant shall sound,
That to thy ghost no more or magic song
Or spell shall reach, and thy Lethaean sleep
Shall never more be broken in a death
From me received anew: for such reward
Think not this second life enforced in vain.
Obscure may be the answers of the gods
By priestess spoken at the holy shrine;
But whose braves the oracles of death
In search of truth, should gain a sure response.
Then speak, I pray thee. Let the hidden fates
Tell through thy voice the mysteries to come. ”

“ II. Consider how you will lie, at the hour of death, stretched upon a bed, surrounded by your weeping friends, a priest by your side to assist your soul, a crucifix at your head, the lighted taper in your hand, in fine, already just at the entrance of eternity. Dreadful pains afflict your distracted head, it grows dark around you, your tongue is parched, your breath is short, your breast is burdened, your blood chilled, your flesh shrunken, your heart rent with anguish; all you have is gliding from you, and poor and naked you will be thrown into a grave to rot. ”

“ Hence with sadness,
Sing with gladness
Alleluia!
Alleluia! Alleluia!
After sharp death that Him befell,
Jesus Christ hath harrowed hell.
Earth is singing,
Heaven is ringing,
Alleluia!
Alleluia! Alleluia! ”

“ The Father hath received Their latest living breath; And vain is Satan’s boast Of victory in their death; Still, still, though dead, they speak, And, trumpet-tongued, proclaim To many a wakening land The one availing name. ”

“ To seize our lives away.
5 Our breath is forfeited by sin
To God's revenging law;
We own thy grace, immortal King,
In every gasp we draw.
6 God is our sun, whose daily light
Our joy and safety brings:
Our feeble flesh lies safe at night
Beneath his shady wings.
Hymn 2:9.
Godly sorrow arising from the sufferings of Christ.
1 Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,
And did my Sovereign die?
Would he devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?
2 [Thy body slain, sweet Jesus, thine,
And bath'd in its own blood,
While all expos'd to wrath divine
The glorious Sufferer stood.] ”

“ We suffer, and Christ suffered; we die, and Christ died; he conquered suffering and death, he rose and lives and reigns,—and we shall conquer, rise, live, and reign. The hours on the cross were long, the thirst was bitter, the darkness and horror real,—but they ended. ”

“ Christ will not only raise His own, His believers, but all men, those, too, who did not believe in Him, but died in their sins.—"The hour is coming," our Lord says: it is coming on the Last Day of the world. On that great day, when our Lord will come again to judge the quick and the dead, all the dead shall hear the almighty voice of the Son of God and whether they will or not, shall come forth from their graves to meet their God and Lord at His judgment-seat.
3. All the dead will be raised from death and the grave; but there will be a great difference in their resurrection. ”

“ And the seven priests bearing the seven trumpets of ram's horns, before the ark of the Lord. And in those days shall seek death and shall not find it, and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them. Rev. 18: 4. And I heard another voice from heaven, saying. Come out of her my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that you receive not her plagues. Rev. 6: 16. And said unto the mountains and rocks, fall on us, this is the great day of his wrath, and who shall be able to stand: none but the pure in heart. The soul that sinneth shall die. ”

“ The early Christians used to carry flowers to the grave, and sing hymns of joy because the toils of a Christian warrior were ended, and he had entered into rest. Hear what the Church sings: "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord." Will you weep because one you love is taken away from sin, from temptation, from the trouble to come? Will you grieve because he has secured for himself the Blissful and Eternal Vision of God? But you have no confidence that he was good, that he did die in the grace of God. ”

“ The priests chant texts, and the people wait upon the worship. And we see faces-in-the-fire of the time to be, when the eyes of the poet shall rest upon the sacrifice, and shall fashion therefrom this mighty vision of God and nature, the soul and life. ”

“ It was that vision that filled me with the very great distress which I feel at the sight of so many lost souls,--especially of the Lutherans,--for they were once members of the Church by baptism,--and also gave me the most vehement desires for the salvation of souls; for certainly I believe that, to save even one from those overwhelming torments, I would most willingly endure many deaths. If here on earth we see one whom we specially love in great trouble or pain, our very nature seems to bid us compassionate him; and if those pains be great, we are troubled ourselves. ”

“ For six years’ Sabbaths I had seen the Elder in his accustomed place beneath the pulpit, and, with a sort of solemn fear, had looked on his steadfast countenance during sermon, psalm, and prayer. On returning to the scenes of my infancy, I now met the pastor going to pray by his deathbed; and, with the privilege which nature gives us to behold, even in their last extremity, the loving and the beloved, I turned to accompany him to the house of sorrow, resignation, and death. ”