Excerpt:
AD LAUDEM VIRGINIS MARIAE
...So pass that file of heroes, Mary's gift.
...She met him in the way,
The sinner's refuge, bade him hope again
And look, like Margaret Mary, on that Heart
Laid bare that we might see its depths of love.
Of old 'twas said to them in Paradise,
"Take, eat, and you shall be as gods".
Again :
'Come, let us build a city and a tower to reach the skies".
Another voice was raised
In these last times, "We know no god, but Man.
No heav'n, but earth re-made, and cleansed of pain!
No immortality, save in the race
Eternally advancing to its goals
Unlimited. Lo! here your Highest Good!"
Cold comfort, this, for him whom death awaits
The tomb and dust, oblivion. Man wants not
Abstractions, things, but love, exclusive, for
That comes from God, and linked with love of
The love of Jesus and His mother pure .
Another danger in these times assails
The Christian camp: the spirit of the world,
The lust of eyes and flesh, the pride of life
The quest for pleasure, riches, place and power
'Twas once temptation for the few, but now
The toiler lives in wealth and style unknown
To kings in former days.
His house is full of things beguiling youth and age.
His wants are multiplied beyond all seeming. Yet
There's little peace of heart. He sees and hears
A thousand things each day, but lacks the mind
To put them in their place. His very thoughts
Are made for him, Nay! and his conscience too,
The voice of reason, Church, and God, he scarce
Will hear, but doffs his hat, and bows before
The New Ascendancy! The yoke of Christ
He will not bear, but meekly takes the chains
Of masters more exacting. So it is
That "wealth accuмulates and men decay" .
Dear mother, bear with your spoiled children, all ,
Show them the sweetness of that Hidden Life,
That trinity of Nazareth, so poor
In worldly goods, so rich in things the heart
Alone can give. They traveled light, to go
More surely up the straightened path. The world's
Opinion found no echo there. They made
God's will their own, though oft made known to them
Through evil men. Dear mother, give our homes
The fragrance of your own, the virtue and
The grace of poverty, obedience,
To see in worldly maxims vanity .
So, may we break the three-fold slavery
Of wealth, of Godless mind, imperious self .
In these last days, the beast reveals himself more boldly.
Open war he shrills against Th' Almighty.
All the arts of tyranny
He uses to coerce man's body.
Cunningly he labors to unhinge the mind, induce
New madness. Nothing less, his aim, than this :
Destroy in man God's image, and remake
Him robot, Frankenstein, automaton,
Some monstrous thing, to execute the will
Of his satanic masters. Murder, lies,
Hypocrisy and hate, he uses all,
And makes himself possessed of all the means
Of death and slavery. Like some foul pest,
His realm has spread 0'er lands where once
the Cross gave happiness .
And final blasphemy:
By some he is acclaimed a greater Christ!
And yet, from all this evil, God derives
Much good. His martyrs fill the thrones once had
By Seraphs, fill the chalice with what lacks to
Christ's sweet passion, and to draw His grace
In copious streams, to make a better world.
And those who first, beguiled by words, saw seeds
Of good in this foul thing, now stand aghast,
And probe the Faith again they laid aside.
Again, when all the land knows naught but grief
The kindness of the heart is set in flow,
And brotherhood is born in common pain.
Their cry of anguish goes beyond, to those
In happier state, to stir them from their ease,
Awake a holy anger, bring some help
In justice' name and in humanity's.
O Valiant Woman! Mother of Fair Love! ,
Endeared to manly hearts! Bless all those blades
Unsheathed in name of Christian chivalry!
Stand by those holy ones who bleed for Christ!
For them, be Tower of Ivory, Morning Star
And Help Of Christians . And for us, whose hour
Has not yet come, who know not what dark vales
And tombs we must pass through, what ordeal
Of pain awaits us, be our Mother, stay
With us through that dark night, awaken us
At dawn, be it in God's eternal home,
Or in this world, new-bathed, restored in Christ .
...
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Excerpt from booklet "Song of Hope", 120 pp. by Father John McFadden (1894 - 1978)
