A RHYTHM OF ST. HILDEBERT OF TOURS.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume IV, Issue 186, 20 October 1876, Page 6

A RHYTHM OF ST. HILDEBERT OF TOURS.

Borne witliout the gate away, buried — hasting to decay — Spite of stone and swathing band he shall rise if Thou command : Speak ! — the stone shall roll aside : Speak ! — the bands shall be untied : Forth he comes without decay when " Come forth !" he hears Thee say. In this sea tny vessel frail pirates many do assail, Waters rage and tempests blow, all around is death and woe : But come Thou, O Pilot kind, calm the waves and still the wind, Scatter all that pirate-band, bring my vessel safe to land. There is not a fruit, I know, on my fig tree's barren bough. Fall and burn I know it must if Thou givest sentence just : But this year in pity spare, dig it — dung it — tend with care ; If it give Thee no return, woe the day ! — it then must burn. On me Satan wreaks his ire, drowns and burns with flood and fire ; Worn and spent I come to Thee, other hope is none for me. That this foe may quit my soul, leaving me restored and whole, Grant to me Thy saving might how to fast and pray aright : Thus, so Christ has pledged His word, shall this fell disease be cured. Make me — from its torments free — Thy true penitent to be ; Give me fear ; for I must be lost without it endlessly j Faith, hope, charity impart, prudence, piety of heart ; Earthly things may I despise, heavenly things desire and prize. In Thee all my hopes remain, from Thee all I seek to gain ; Thou, my God, art all my health, Thou my All — my praise — my wealth : Thou in toil art solace calm, Thou in sickness sweetest Balm. Thou dost charm my griefs away, angry passions dost allay. Thou dost loose the captive thrall, Tbou dost raise me when I fall ; When too bold, Thou bidd'st me fear, grieved for sin, with hope dost cheer; Thou requitest those who hurt, threatened ills Thou dost avert, Doubtful things Thou makest plain, veiling what should dart remain. Never do Thou let me dwell in the dungeons drear of hell, Where are bitter griefs and fears, stench appalling, hopeless tears Where all evil things are strewn, where the wicked writhe anc groan, Where the anguish ceaseth never, where the worm devoureth ever Where these tortues are eternal in that living death infernal. May my home in Sion be, city of tranquility^ David's city, fair and bright, made by Him Who made the light, Where for gate the Cross we see, Peter's tongue its opening key. Gladder they than words can tell in those jewelled walls thai dwell, Where the Guardian of the place is the King Who gives its grace Solemn is the light and fair spring and peace are ceaseless there, Heavenly odors breathe around, sweetest strains for ever sound; There is no defect nor taint, no corruption, no complaint, All in. form and stature due are to Christ confirmed anew. Heavenly City, blest and sure, built upon the rock secure, Harbored safe from storm and gale, from afar I bid thee hail ! Thee I greet — I sigh for thee — Thee I seek for longingly. Who the festal mirth can tell of the just who in thee dwell, Who can cay what lustre falls on thy jewel studded walls, Jacinth and chalcedon fair — who but they whose home is there ? In that City of the skies ceaseless Alleluias vise — Moses with Elias meets — saints by thousands throng the streets : There may I, too, sing one day with Thy saints who sing alway ! —'The Month.'