Imagini ale paginilor
PDF
ePub

'Twas on the night the Lord was born

When Jesus halted on his way

When Pagans warr'd against the Cross

Oh, blessed is my baby boy

Sleep, Jesus, sleep!

[ocr errors]

Sporting through the forest wide

The day is o'er, the moon, &c.
The evening is closing, &c.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

The heathen monarch sits enthron'd
The little babe is dead, it lies

The little church with flowers is strewn
The sun had ris'n, the air was sweet
The sun that gives me heat and light
The waves are breaking snowy white
There is an everlasting home
There liv'd, as holy legends tell
There's not a leaf within the bower

To ancient Milan's city fair

[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

30

14

24

10

23

12

18

..

6

..

27

13

15

4

28

5

[ocr errors]

22

1

25

The Music of the Songs in a quarto volume, price 28.

[graphic][merged small]

Catholic

SACRED SONGS.

1. Suffer the little Children to

come to Me.

WHEN Jesus halted on his way,
And many throng'd to see,
Though some forbade, yet would he say,
"Come, little ones, to me."

Oh, happy then that infant band
That gather'd round his knee,
And happy they who kiss'd the hand
That bled to set them free.

Had I been near him on that day,
His gracious smile to see;
Had I been near to hear him say,
"Come, little ones, to me;"

Oh, what were then a throne above
Or seraph's seat on high,

Compar'd with one sweet glance of love
From that all-pitying eye!

Yet, hast thou not, my Lord and God,
Though on thy throne above,
Still here on earth thy own abode,
The Altar of thy love?

Oh, thither, then, let me repair,
Thy gracious smile to see,
And hear thee say in stillness there,
"Come, little one, to me."

2. The Little Mariners' Hymn
to the Blessed Virgin.

A LITTLE boat with snow-white sail
Is floating on the summer sea;
Oh, lightly moves it with the gale,
And all its crew are children three.
Kind Heaven, grant no harm betide
Their fragile bark when night falls dim;
And hark, the breeze bears far and wide
The little fishers' evening hymn.

"Poor fishermen, too weak are we
To stem the rolling ocean's wave;
And, Mary, we have turn'd to thee,
A mother's gentle help to crave.
Hail, Mary! star of ocean, hail!

Oh, hear the hymn we sing to thee,
The while we trim our shifting sail,
And shape our course across the sea.

Oh, deign our feeble toil to bless,

And keep old Ocean calm the while;

Oh, grant us, Mary, good success,
And make our home with plenty smile.
Hail, &c.

Sweet Mother, light our outward track,
Poor helpless little fishers three,
And bring our boat in safety back,
Across the wide and pathless sea.
Hail, &c.

3.

The Angelus Bells.

(A Song for Three Children.)

First Child.

MORNING.

HAIL, Mary! now the sun is up;

All things around look glad and bright, And heatherbell and buttercup

Shake off the dewdrops of the night.
The lambs are frisking in the fields,
The lark is singing in the sky;
And man his wakening tribute yields
To thee and thy sweet Son on high.
Second Child. Noon.

Hail, Mary! midway in the sky
The noontide sun its lustre sheds;
The field-flowers almost seem to die,

So low they hang their drooping heads.
The lambs have sought the woodland shade,
The lark has ceas'd his note of glee;
And pausing in the furrow'd glade,
The ploughman lifts his hat to thee.
Third Child. EVENING.

Hail, Mary! now the sun is far
Adown his western path of light;

C

« ÎnapoiContinuă »