See! The Sun Beyond The Hill

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “Flowers for the Altar. For the School Children” in that hymnal:

See! the sun beyond the hill
Is dipping, dipping down,
Right above that old Scotch fir
Just like a golden crown.

Children! quick, and come with me;
Handfuls of cowslips bring,
Hawthorn bright with boughs of white,
And Mayflowers from the spring.

Lucy has fresh shoots of thyme
From her own garden plot:
Jacob’s lilac has been stripped—
A gay and goodly lot!

To St. Wilfrid’s we will go,
And give them to the priest;
He must deck our Lady’s shrine
To-morrow for the feast.

Poor indeed the flowers we give,
But we ourselves are poor:
Payment for each gift to her
Is plentiful and sure.

By the picture Lucy loves
Hail-Maries will we say,
And for him who ’s far at sea
Most fervently we ’ll pray.

When I kneel in that sweet place
I cannot help but cry;
Then she seems to smile on me
Doubly through her bright eye.

Quick! the cock upon the spire
Shines with his gleamy tail:
He ’s the last who sees the sun
In all this happy vale.

God be praised, who sent the faith
To these lone fields of ours,
And God’s Mother, too, who takes
Our little tithe of flowers.

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: “Devonshire” traditional English melody.
Meter: 7.6.7.6

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Posted in Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, May Day (May 1), Other Feast Days, The Blessed Virgin Mary, The Communion of Saints, The Month of May, Times of the Year and Holidays (Non-Liturgical) | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Hail, Holy Wilfrid, Hail!

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “St. Wilfrid” in that hymnal. St. Wilfrid’s feast day on the Roman Calendar is October 12:

Hail, holy Wilfrid, hail!
Kindest of patrons, hail!
Whose loving help doth ne’er
Thy trusting children fail!

Saint of the cheerful heart,
Quick step and beaming eye!
Give light unto our lives,
And at our death be nigh!

To Mary’s lovers thou,
Sweet Saint! hast shown the road;
O teach us how to love
The Mother of our God.

Give us thy love of work,
Thy spirit’s manly powers,
And teach us how to save
This Saxon-land of ours.

Teach us, dear Saint! to make
The Church our only home,
To love the faith, the rites,
And all the ways of Rome!

Thy life was one long voyage
Of unabated hope,
Winning the truant hearts
Of England to the Pope.

We have the same to do,
A labour hard but sweet;
And we have but to trace
The pathway of thy feet.

For England’s sake make us
Humble and gay and pure;
For so the heart works best,
And makes the blessing sure.

Ah! we have need of thee,
To knit us all in one,
The mischief to undo
Which our cold hearts have done.

To Ireland’s sons of faith
Hard measure have we dealt;
One faith would breed one heart
In Saxon and in Celt.

Thou hadst no idle hour;
Thy gains with toil were bought;
Saint Wilfrid! make us love
Our country as we ought!

Wilfrid! by thy sweet name
Our little ones we’ll call;
O then on them and us
Let thy rich blessing fall.

Lover of youth! do thou
Our English children bless;
Their joyous hearts’ first love
For Mary’s service press.

Into our souls, dear Saint!
With thy blythe courage come,
And make us missioners
Of Mary and of Rome!

Hail, holy Wilfrid, hail!
Saint of the free and gay!
Look how we follow thee,
And bless us in our way!

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: “St. Martin” C. Ett, 1840.
Meter: 6.6.6.6

Posted in Bishops, Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, Other Feast Days, St. Wilfrid (Oct. 12), The Church Year, The Communion of Saints | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Day Set On Rome: Its Golden Morn

This hymn is dedicated to my beloved patron saint, St. Philip Neri.

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “St. Philip’s Death” in that hymnal:

Day set on Rome: its golden morn
Had seen the world’s Creator borne
Around St. Peter’s square;
Trembling and weeping all the way,
God’s Vicar with his God that day
Made pageant brave and rare!

Night came; through Rome, in place and street
Was hushed the tread of pilgrim’s feet;
The dew fell soft as balm;
The summer moon’s unsteady beam
Quivered on Tyber’s hurrying stream;
All but his wave was calm!

The city slept as though ’twere spent
With love of that dear Sacrament,
As hearts o’erjoyed will sleep;
The night was lovely as a spell,
Its beautiful repose so well
Rome’s Festa seemed to keep.

St. Mary’s glistening roofs were seen
Clear marked in moonlight soft and keen
Against the cloudless sky;
And round the Vallicella flew
Angels as thick as stars that strew
The azure fields on high.

O come to Father Philip’s cell,
Rome’s rank and youth, they know it well,
Come ere the moment flies!
The feast hath been too much for him;
His heart is full, his eye is dim,
And Rome’s Apostle dies!

One of God’s mightiest Saints is he;
Mark well his acts, none light can be;
All are on God intent;
‘Twas Philip’s craft; and we may dare
Our father with his Lord compare
In wile and blandishment.

The smile, the jest, the sportive blow
Served but to hide the depths below
Of supernatural power;
And never strove he to control
The hidden beauty of his soul
More than in that last hour.

An old man’s carefulness that day,
With fond caress and childlike play,
Beyond his wont were blent;
Thoughtful of little things, he gave
Counsel perhaps a shade more grave
Than common to the Saint.

None deemed those hours of talk and mirth
Were his foreseen farewell to earth;
’Twas only Philip’s way;
Yet when he went, his children yearned
For the strange fire unmarked that burned
Within their hearts that day.

He gazed on Peter’s martyr hill;
Some glowing vision seemed to fill
His calmly raptured eye;
His mass, half said, half sung, was o’er;
None had e’er heard such strains before,
Nor dared to ask him why.

Thou art not yet mid angel choirs;
Wherefore this burst of song, these fires
From harps of seraphs riven?
Thou canst not wait; but wilt with them
Sing as they sang at Bethlehem,
Glory in Highest Heaven!

Hours passed, and Philip’s cheerful cell
Heard the light laugh, the gay farewell;
’Twas Philip still to all:
Confessions heard, his office said,
The old man sat upon his bed,
Waiting the Bridegroom’s call!

“How wanes the night, my sons ?” he said;
He heard, and straight his reckoning made;
Time’s lagging foot went slow:
“Aye, three and two, and three and three,—
“And then the captive will be free,—
“At the sixth hour I go!”

Come, O Creator Spirit! come,
Take Thine elect unto his home,
Thy chosen one, sweet Dove!
“Come to thy rest,” he hears Thee say;
He waits not—he hath passed away
In mortal trance of love.

When Rome in deepest slumber slept,
Our father’s children knelt and wept
Around his little bed;
He raised his eyes, then let them fall
With marked expression upon all;
He blessed them, and was dead.

One half from earth, one half from heaven,
Was that mysterious blessing given,
Just as his life had been
One half in heaven, one half on earth,
Of earthly toil and heavenly mirth
A wondrous woven scene!

The Son of Man, the Eternal God,
Toiling a pilgrim on earth’s road,
Ceased not in heaven to be;
That gift He gave to thee in part,
Apostle of the Fiery Heart!
For His great love of thee.

O Jesu! wondrous holy-day
Rome’s children kept; and little they
Its end and fruit foresaw,
When bells rang out and cannon roared,
And Rome fell prostrate and adored,
Speechless with love and awe.

Those joyous bells, those cannon near,
They smote this morn on Philip’s ear,
And thrilled him through and through:
Love fell on him as on her prey,
And stirred and shook his heart all day,
As love alone can do.

It was enough; the inward strife
No more could last ’twixt love and life;
His heart, it broke with bliss.
Since Joseph died on Jesu’s knee,
Since Mary’s spirit was set free,
Was never death like this!

Rome’s joy admonished him, that earth
Caught but poor shadows of the mirth
Around the Eternal Throne.
Sweet Sacrament! the love of Thee
Snapped the last chain, and he was free;
Faith was by love undone!

That joyous peal was Philip’s knell,
That triumph was the Saint’s farewell
To his beloved Rome;
Worn out with love, he could not stay
From his dear Lord one other day,
So pined be for his home!

Master of self, with placid eye,
As though ’twere easy work to die,
Nor need to fear his doom,
With calmest dignity, and slow,
As one who at his will can go
Gently from room to room,

Saint Philip passed into the blaze
Of that dread Throne whose light can daze
The seraph’s glorious ken;
As Mary died, so died her son;
Love got her prey, and Jesus won
His chosen among men.

O Jesus, Mary, Joseph, bide,
With kind St. Raphael, by my side,
When death shall come for me ;
And, Philip! leave me not that day,
But let my spirit pass away,
Leaning, dear Sire, on thee!

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: “Cornwall” Samuel S. Wesley, 1810-1876.
Meter: 8.8.6.D

Posted in Founders of Orders, Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, St. Philip Neri, The Communion of Saints | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The World Is Wise, For The World Is Old

This hymn is dedicated to my beloved patron saint, St. Philip Neri.

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “St. Philip and the World” in that hymnal:

The world is wise, for the world is old;
Five thousand years their tale have told;
Yet the world is not happy as the world might be—
Why is it? why is it? O answer me!

The world is kind if we ask not too much;
It is sweet to the taste, and smooth to the touch;
Yet the world is not happy as the world might be—
Why is it ? why is it? O answer me!

The world is strong with an awful strength,
And full of life in its breadth and length;
Yet the world is not happy as the world might be—
Why is it? why is it? O answer me!

The world is so beautiful, one may fear
Its borrowed beauty might make it too dear;
Yet the world is not happy as the world might be—
Why is it? why is it? O answer me!

The world is good in its own poor way;
There is rest by night and high spirits by day;
Yet the world is not happy as the world might be—
Why is it? why is it? O answer me!

This very world saw Messiah’s birth,
And Mary was only a daughter of earth;
Yet the world is not happy as the world might be-—
Why is it? why is it? O answer me!

The Cross shines fair, and the church-bell rings,
And the earth is peopled with holy things;
Yet the world is not happy as the world might be—
Why is it? why is it? O answer me!

What lackest thou, world! for God made thee of old?
Why,—thy faith hath gone out, and thy heart grown cold;
Thou art not as happy as thou mightest be,
For the want of Christ’s simplicity.

It is love that thou lackest, thou poor old world!
Who shall make thy blood hot for thee, frozen old world?
Thou art not as happy as thou mightest be,
For the love of dear Jesus is little in thee.

God hath sent thee a Saint new heat to impart;
Love is always at highwater mark in his heart:
He will make thee as happy as thou mayest be,
’Tis St. Philip of Rome who is sent to thee.

Now, foolish old world! kick not at his rule;
Be content if he sends thy grey hairs back to school.
He will make thee as happy as thou canst be,
For he will bid Mary pray for thee.

Poor world! if thou cravest a better day,
Remember—the Saints must have their own way:
I mourn thou art not as thou mightest be—
But the love of God would do all for thee,

And Jesus and Mary would set thee free,
Hadst thou ears to hear and eyes to see,
What good Father Philip has done for me,
For the love of God is the creature’s liberty!

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: No tune seems to exist for this song.
Meter: irreg.

Posted in Founders of Orders, Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, No Tunes Exist For Hymn, St. Philip Neri, The Communion of Saints | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Pining For Old Poetic Times

This hymn is dedicated to my beloved patron saint, St. Philip Neri.

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “St. Philip and the Middle Ages” in that hymnal:

Pining for old poetic times,
Young hearts have oft unwisely grieved,
As though there were no days like those
When men loved less than they believed.

Yet are they sure if, on those days,
Their span of trial had been cast,
They would have well, in penance drear,
The long sustained ordeal passed?

Teasing hair-shirt and prickly chain,
Rude discipline and bed of earth,—
Would they have tamed by these rough ways
Their love of ease and pride of birth?

God’s poor, God’s Church,—are these to-day
Welcomed and nourished at their cost,
Yea, to the brink of poverty?
If not, how sounds their idle boast?

Ah no! it is not jewelled cope,
Brave pomps or incense-laden air,
Can lull the pains of aching hearts,
Or bring the Saviour’s pardon there.

No! to be safe, these outward things
Interior strictness must control;
To play with beauty and with art
Saves not, nor heals, the wounded soul.

No! dear St. Philip! we must learn
Our wisdom in thy heavenly school,
Love thy restraints, and wear thy yoke,
And persevere beneath thy rule.

Love is to us, in these late days,
What faith in those old times might be;
He that hath love lacks not of faith,
And hath beside love’s liberty.

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: “Lasus” A.H. Mann, 1850-1930.
Meter: 8.8.8.8

Posted in Founders of Orders, Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, St. Philip Neri, The Communion of Saints | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

All Ye Who Love The Ways Of Sin

This hymn is dedicated to my beloved patron saint, St. Philip Neri.

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “St. Philip’s Charity” in that hymnal:

All ye who love the ways of sin,
Come to St. Philip’s feet and learn
The baits that Jesus hath to win
His truant children to return.
All praise and thanks to Jesus be
For sweet St. Philip’s charity!

That Saint can do such things for you
As your poor hearts would never dream;
For he can make the false world true,
And penance life’s best pleasure seem.
All praise and thanks to Jesus be
For sweet St. Philip’s charity!

His words like gentlest dews distill,
His face is calm as summer eve;
His look can tame the wildest will,
And make the stoutest heart to grieve.
All praise and thanks to Jesus be
For sweet St. Philip’s charity!

He smiles; and evil habit fails
To bind its victim as before;
Old sins drop off the soul like scales,
Old wounds are healed, and leave no sore.
All praise and thanks to Jesus be
For sweet St. Philip’s charity!

His hand, with virgin fragrance fraught,
The heart with painless pressure strains,
And with one touch all evil thought,
All worldly longing from it drains.
All praise and thanks to Jesus be
For sweet St. Philip’s charity!

He breathes on us; the spicy gale
Of Araby is not more sweet;
He breathes new life in hearts that fail,
New vigour into weary feet.
All praise and thanks to Jesus be
For sweet St. Philip’s charity!

His voice can raise the dead to life,
So wonderful its accents are;
He speaks,—there is an end of strife,
And of the soul’s internal war.
All praise and thanks to Jesus be
For sweet St. Philip’s charity!

Come, sinners! ye need not forego
Your portion of light-hearted mirth;
He came unthought-of roads to show,
And plant a paradise on earth.
All praise and thanks to Jesus be
For sweet St. Philip’s charity!

Come, try the Saint: his words are true;
Give him your hearts; he gives you heaven;
He sets light penance, and will do
The penance he himself hath given.
All praise and thanks to Jesus be
For sweet St. Philip’s charity!

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: “St. Matthias” W.H. Monk, 1823-1889.
Meter: 8.8.8.8.8.8

Posted in Founders of Orders, Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, St. Philip Neri, The Communion of Saints | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Saint Philip! I Have Never Known

This hymn is dedicated to my beloved patron saint, St. Philip Neri.

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “St. Philip’s Picture” in that hymnal:

Saint Philip! I have never known
A Saint as I know thee;
For none have made their wills and ways
So plain for men to see!
I live with thee; and in my toil
All day thou hast thy part,
And then I come at night to learn
Thy picture off by heart.

O what a prayer thy picture is!
Was Jesus like to thee?
Whence hast thou caught that lovely look
That preaches so to me?
Sermon and prayer thy picture is!
And music to the eye,
Song to the soul, a song that sings
Of whitest purity!

A blessing on thy name, dear Saint!
Blessing from young and old,
Whom thou in Mary’s gallant band
Hast winningly enrolled!
If ever there were poor man’s Saint,
That very Saint art thou!
If ever time were fit for thee,
Dear Saint! that time is now!

Philip! strange missioner thou art,
Biding so still at home,
Content if with the evening star
Souls to thy nets will come!
If ever spell could make hard work
Profit and pastime be,
That spell is in thy coaxing ways,
That magic is in thee.

Sweet-faced old Man! for so I dare,
Saint though thou be on high,
To name thee, for thou temptest love
By thy humility,
Sweet-faced old Man! what are thy wiles
With which thou winnest men?
Art thou All Saints within thyself?
If not, what art thou then?

John’s love of Mary thou hast got;
Thy house is Mary’s home;
And then thou hast Paul’s love of souls,
With Peter’s love of Rome.
Thy heart that was so large and strong
It could not quiet bide,
O was it not like His that beats
Within a wounded Side?

Saint of the over-worked and poor!
Saint of the sad and gay!
Jesus and Mary be with those
Who keep to thy true way!
O bless us, Philip! Saint most dear!
Thine Oratory bless,
And gain for those who seek thee there
The gift of Holiness!

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: “Clonmel” Irish Melody.
Meter: 8.6.8.6.D

Posted in Founders of Orders, Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, St. Philip Neri, The Communion of Saints | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment