The Church and EnglandHonour the Agony and Death of Jesus Christ, and the interior and exterior sufferings which He endured from the age of twenty-five to thirty years, especially at the thought of the persons of that age, who abandon themselves without restraint to their disordered passions.
In union with these sufferings, offer your works, your pains, your sufferings, and the sacrifice of your life for the triumph of the Catholic religion in England, Ireland, and Scotland, particularly for those who govern in these countries and elsewhere. Ask of God, if such be His good pleasure, that you may suffer for these intentions.
Agonizing Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us.
Compassionate Heart of Mary, pray for us.
Saint Michael, Archangel, pray for us.
Saint Joseph, pray for us.
Holy Apostles and Martyrs, pray for us.
Holy Guardian Angels of England, Ireland, and Scotland, pray for us.
Saints who sanctified yourselves in these three kingdoms, pray for us.
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St. Edward, King and Confessor, Patron of England
Son of King Ethelred II., he was born at Islip in Oxfordshire. An exile from his country, he was taught in the school of adversity the admirable virtues he later on practised on the throne. Though married, he lived and died a virgin on the 5th of January 1066, after a reign of twenty-three years.
Saint Edward, England's gift from God,
And the noblest of her kings,
The promise of a second spring
Thy gracious memory brings.
For ere our England lost the faith
Received from holy Rome,
Thy name was aye a household word
In every English home.
An exile in a foreign land,
Poor, friendless, and alone,
Thou wouldst not shed one drop of blood,
And yet didst win thy throne.
By great Saint Peter thou wert taught
To love his Holy See,
To serve God's Church, and build her shrines
With royal charity.
Christ blessed thee in the Holy Host
With His own sacred hand,
And for thy sake His blessings poured
On thy beloved land.
For thee He healed her miseries,
For thee He slew her foes,
For thee He made the wilderness
To blossom like the rose.
By faith thou wert a conqueror
By whom no blood was shed;
By faith, though vowed to chastity,
Thou didst thine Edith wed,
And in the bonds of wedlock true
Didst lead a virgin life.
And leave in spotless maidenhood
Thy pure and holy wife.
Kind Saint, thy faith and charity
The Lord would often prove.
Yet the worst foulness of His poor
Did but increase thy love.
Oh pity then my poverty,
My sins, my misery foul,
And purify with heavenly love
My poor and sinful soul.
And, oh, for this dear English land
With Jesus intercede,
For which in life thou didst so oft
With that dear Saviour plead.
The centuries three are now run out,
The time of its sad woe,
Oh, may the tree of life, renewed,
Once more luxuriant grow!
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