Prayer of St. Ignatius

I LOVE , I love Thee, Lord most high!
Because Thou first hast loved me;
I seek no other liberty
But that of being bound to Thee.

May memory no thought suggest,
But shall to Thy pure glory tend;
My understanding find no rest
Except in Thee, its only end.

My God, I here protest to Thee,
No other will have I than Thine;
Whatever Thou hast given me,
I here again to Thee resign.

All mine is Thine, — say but the word,
Whate'er Thou willest shall be done;
I know Thy love, all-gracious Lord;

Source of all Love and Power

Source of all love and power,
The soul's true friend and home;
Who on the cross our foe subdued;
Speak thou the word, and let the good
The evil overcome.

Thou who didst bid the day
Burst from the gloom of night,
Speak, and the darkness shall depart
From the deep midnight of this heart,
And all within be light.

Joy of the saints in light,
Song of the heavens above,
Be thou the joy of earth below,
Be thou the song its dwellers know,
Centre of bliss and love!

St. Bernard's Hymn; or, the Loving Soul's Jubilation

1.

J ESU , the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills my breast;
But sweeter far Thy face to see,
And in Thy presence rest!

Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find,
A sweeter sound than Thy blest Name,
O Saviour of mankind!

O hope of every contrite heart!
O joy of all the meek!

Thou Believers? What Then?

Art thou a saint? And doth
Thy God thee own?
Call thee a child, an heir, a chosen one,
One with himself and his beloved Son,
Heir of his crown?

Hast thou the love of Christ
Thy Saviour known? —
The love that passeth knowledge, the rich grace
That stooped to poverty and death, to place
Thee on his throne?

Know'st thou the Christ of God?
His cross and love?

For Lack of Love

For lack of love I languish,
For lack of light I pine;
Good Jesu, soothe my anguish,
And heal this soul of mine;
This soul whose only rest
Is on thy soft and loving breast.

From lack of strength I'm sinking,
O give me strength divine;
And let me still be drinking,
Each day, the heavenly wine;
The wine that cheers the heart
And bids its feebleness depart.

For lack of faith I'm failing,
Hand, heart, and head are low;
Exulting and prevailing,
Comes on my hellish foe.

The Account

When all the Stars are by thee told,
(The endless Sums of heav'nly Gold)
Or when the Hairs are reckon'd all,
From sickly Autumns Head that fall,
Or when the drops that make the Sea ,
Whilst all her Sands thy Counters be;
Thou then, and Thou alone maist prove
Th' Arithmetician of my Love
An hundred Loves at Athens score,
At Corinth write an hundred more
Fair Corinth does such Beauties bear,
So few is an Escaping there
Write then at Chios seventy three;
Write then at Lesbos (let me see)

Bright Feet of May

Trip along, bright feet of May,
Trip along from day to day,
Trip along in sun and showers,
Trip along and wake the flowers,
Trip along the breezy hills,
Trip beside the prattling rills.
Trip along, in light and song,
Trip away, all fresh and gay,
Trip away, bright feet of May!

Trip along, when morning shines,
Trip along, when day declines,
Trip along, when, in the night,
Moon and stars are sparkling bright;
Trip across the sunny sea,
Over cloudland high and free.
Trip along, in light and song,

His own Received him not

Surely, if such a thing could be,
The best of sunlight fell on thee;
The softest of the stars of night
Shed down on thee its sweetest light.

Surely, if such a thing could be,
Noon kept its gentlest rays for thee;
The lightest of the winds of morn
Across thy weary brow was borne.

The freshest dew that eve ere shed
Fell in its coolness on thy head;
The fairest of the flowers that bloom
Reserved for thee their rich perfume.

Yet tho' this earth which thou hast made

A Love Song

As one who longs for cooling drink,
The cruel fires of thirst to quench,
When haply on one verdant branch
He saw two apples, stays to think
Which may be best, and both desires:
So was I by two maids perplexed;
But now at last my choice is fixed;
And one true love my soul inspires.

As Ocean foams and harshly roars
When two fierce winds assail his breast,
In fearful strife from east and west;
Nor ever to repose restores
His waves till one is overthrown;
So by two flames my soul assailed

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