Verses on Various Occasions by John Henry Newman (ebooks online reader txt) 📕
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Verses on Various Occasions is a collection of poems written by John Henry Newman between 1818 and 1865. This period of Newman’s ecclesiastical career saw his ordination as an Anglican priest in 1825, his involvement in the High Church “Oxford Movement” in the 1830s, his conversion to Roman Catholicism in 1845, and his founding of the Birmingham Oratory, a Catholic religious community, in 1849.
The poems in this collection span a range of Christian subjects, including piety, biblical prophets, Church Fathers, and Newman’s evolving views on the Catholic Church. Some noteworthy inclusions are “The Pillar of the Cloud,” which has been set to music as the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light,” and “The Dream of Gerontius,” which relates a man’s journey into the afterlife, inspired by Dante’s Divine Comedy.
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- Author: John Henry Newman
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Thou too shalt be our Judge at length;
Lord, in Thy grace bestow
Thy weapons of celestial strength,
And snatch us from the foe.
Honour and glory, power and praise,
To Father, and to Son,
And Holy Ghost, be paid always,
The Eternal Three in One.
Verbum supernum prodiens.
Supernal Word, proceeding from
The Eternal Father’s breast,
And in the end of ages come,
To aid a world distrest;
Enlighten, Lord, and set on fire
Our spirits with Thy love,
That, dead to earth, they may aspire
And live to joys above.
That, when the judgment-seat on high
Shall fix the sinner’s doom,
And to the just a glad voice cry,
Come to your destined home;
Safe from the black and yawning lake
Of restless, endless pain,
We may the face of God partake,
The bliss of heaven attain.
To God the Father, God the Son,
And Holy Ghost, to Thee,
As heretofore, when time is done,
Unending glory be.
En clara vox redarguit.
Hark, a joyful voice is thrilling,
And each dim and winding way
Of the ancient Temple filling;
Dreams, depart! for it is day.
Christ is coming!—from thy bed,
Earth-bound soul, awake and spring—
With the sun new-risen to shed
Health on human suffering.
Lo! to grant a pardon free,
Comes a willing Lamb from Heaven;
Sad and tearful, hasten we,
One and all, to be forgiven.
Once again He comes in light,
Girding earth with fear and woe;
Lord! be Thou our loving Might,
From our guilt and ghostly foe.
To the Father, and the Son,
And the Spirit, who in Heaven
Ever witness, Three and One,
Praise on earth be ever given.
Quicunque Christum quaeritis.
O ye who seek the Lord,
Lift up your eyes on high,
For there He doth the Sign accord
Of His bright majesty.
We see a dazzling sight
That shall outlive all time,
Older than depth or starry height,
Limitless and sublime.
’Tis He for Israel’s fold
And heathen tribes decreed,
The King to Abraham pledged of old
And his unfailing seed.
Prophets foretold His birth,
And witness’d when He came,
The Father speaks to all the earth
To hear, and own His name.
To Jesus, who displays
To babes His beaming face,
Be, with the Father, endless praise,
And with the Spirit of grace. Amen.
Lux alma Jesu.
Light of the anxious heart,
Jesus, Thou dost appear,
To bid the gloom of guilt depart,
And shed Thy sweetness here.
Joyous is he, with whom,
God’s Word, Thou dost abide;
Sweet Light of our eternal home,
To fleshly sense denied.
Brightness of God above!
Unfathomable grace!
Thy Presence be a fount of love
Within Thy chosen place.
To Thee, whom children see,
The Father ever blest,
The Holy Spirit, One and Three,
Be endless praise addrest. Amen.
Deus tuorum militum.
O God, of Thy soldiers
the Portion and Crown,
Spare sinners who hymn
the praise of the Blest;
Earth’s bitter joys,
its lures and its frown,
He scann’d them and scorn’d,
and so is at rest.
Thy Martyr he ran
all valiantly o’er
A highway of blood
for the prize Thou hast given.
We kneel at Thy feet,
and meekly implore,
That our pardon may wait
on his triumph in heaven.
Honour and praise
To the Father and Son
And the Spirit be done
Now and always. Amen.
Christe Pastorum.15
O Thou, of shepherds Prince and Head,
Now on a Bishop’s festal-day
Thy flock to many a shrine have sped
Their vows to pay.
He to the high and dreadful throne
Urged by no false inspirings, prest,
Nor on hot daring of his own,
But Thy behest.
And so, that soldier good and tried,
From the full horn of heavenly grace,
Thy Spirit did anoint, to guide
Thy ransom’d race.
And he becomes a father true,
Spending and spent, when troubles fall,
A pattern and a servant too,
All things to all.
His pleading sets the sinner free,
He soothes the sick, he lifts the low,
Powerful in word, deep teacher, he,
To quell the foe.
Grant us, O Christ, his prayers above,
And grace below to sing Thy praise,
The Father’s power, the Spirit’s love,
Now and always.
Littlemore. February 7, 1842.
CLVIII EthelwaldFrom St. Bede’s Metrical History of St. Cuthbert.
Between two comrades dear,
Zealous and true as they,
Thou, prudent Ethelwald, didst bear
In that high home the sway.
A man, who ne’er, ’tis said,
Would of his graces tell,
Or with what arms he triumphèd
Over the Dragon fell.
So down to us hath come
A memorable word,
Which in unguarded season from
His blessed lips was heard.
It chanced, that, as the Saint
Drank in with faithful ear
Of Angel tones the whispers faint,
Thus spoke a brother dear:
“Oh, why so many a pause,
Thwarting thy words’ full stream,
Till her dark line Oblivion draws
Across the broken theme?”
He answered: “Till thou seal
To sounds of earth thine ear,
Sweet friend, be sure thou ne’er shalt feel
Angelic voices near.”
But then the hermit blest
A sudden change came o’er;
He shudders, sobs, and smites his breast,
Is mute, then speaks once more:
“Oh, by the Name Most High,
What I have now let fall,
Hush, till I lay me down to die,
And go the way of all!”
Thus did a Saint in fear
His gifts celestial hide;
Thus did an Angel standing near
Proclaim them far and wide.
Littlemore. 1844.
CLIX Candlemas(A Song.)
The Angel-lights of Christmas morn,
Which shot across the sky,
Away they pass at Candlemas,
They sparkle and they die.
Comfort of earth is brief at best,
Although it be divine;
Like funeral lights for Christmas gone,
Old Simeon’s tapers shine.
And then for eight long weeks and more,
We wait in twilight grey,
Till the high candle sheds a beam
On Holy Saturday.
We wait along the penance-tide
Of solemn fast and prayer;
While song is hush’d, and lights grow dim
In the sin-laden air.
And while the sword in
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