Preview: King Nebuchadnezzar and the form "like the Son of God" in Keble's "Christian Year"

Three of my favorite Old Testament stories to hear at daily Mass are from the Second Book of Maccabees and from the Book of Daniel. From Second Maccabees, the story of the martyrdoms of the Mother and her seven sons in chapter 7 as the drama builds with each exchange among the Jewish men, their mother, and King Antiochus. 

From the Book of Daniel: one is the story of Susanna and the Elders. I remember Father William Carr (RIP) at the WSU St. Paul's Parish-Newman Center, decades ago, telling me to read that long reading slowly, clearly, and deliberately. [“Are you such fools, O Israelites, as to condemn a daughter of Israel without examination and without learning the facts? Return to court, for these men have given false evidence against her.”] It's such a good story and needs to "be told" again well; Father Carr didn't want me to rush it.

The other story from the Book of Daniel: that of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego as King Nebuchadnezzar's elaborately cruel attempt to roast the Jewish exiles to death is thwarted by the appearance of one "like the Son of God" joining them in the oven as they chant praises God.

On Monday, August 31, we'll look at how John Keble meditates on their story on the Son Rise Morning Show. He selects the verse "Then Nebuchadnezzar the king was astonished, and rose up in haste, and spake, and said unto his counsellors, 'Did not we cast three men bound into the midst of the fire?' They answered and said unto the king, 'True, O king.' He answered and said, 'Lo, I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt; and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God.'" (Daniel iii. 24, 25.) for his inspiration on the Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity in the Book of Common Prayer:

When Persecution’s torrent blaze
   Wraps the unshrinking Martyr’s head;
When fade all earthly flowers and bays,
   When summer friends are gone and fled,
Is he alone in that dark hour
Who owns the Lord of love and power?

Or waves there not around his brow
   A wand no human arm may wield,
Fraught with a spell no angels know,
   His steps to guide, his soul to shield?
Thou, Saviour, art his Charmèd Bower,
His Magic Ring, his Rock, his Tower.

And when the wicked ones behold
   Thy favourites walking in Thy light,
Just as, in fancy triumph bold,
   They deemed them lost in deadly night,
Amazed they cry, “What spell is this,
Which turns their sufferings all to bliss?

“How are they free whom we had bound?
   Upright, whom in the gulf we cast?
What wondrous helper have they found
   To screen them from the scorching blast?
Three were they—who hath made them four?
And sure a form divine he wore,

“E’en like the Son of God.”  So cried
   The Tyrant, when in one fierce flame
The Martyrs lived, the murderers died:
   Yet knew he not what angel came
To make the rushing fire-flood seem
Like summer breeze by woodland stream.

He knew not, but there are who know:
   The Matron, who alone hath stood,
When not a prop seemed left below,
   The first lorn hour of widowhood,
Yet cheered and cheering all, the while,
With sad but unaffected smile;—

The Father, who his vigil keeps
   By the sad couch whence hope hath flown,
Watching the eye where reason sleeps,
   Yet in his heart can mercy own,
Still sweetly yielding to the rod,
Still loving man, still thanking God;—

The Christian Pastor, bowed to earth
   With thankless toil, and vile esteemed,
Still travailing in second birth
   Of souls that will not be redeemed:
Yet steadfast set to do his part,
And fearing most his own vain heart;—

These know: on these look long and well,
   Cleansing thy sight by prayer and faith,
And thou shalt know what secret spell
   Preserves them in their living death:
Through sevenfold flames thine eye shall see
The Saviour walking with His faithful Three.

Although Keble at first emphasizes the drama of the scene, narrating the King's shock at what he is seeing that defies all his commands: the blazing fire, the bound victims now unbound and unharmed by the flames, but most of all, the presence of a fourth man, one "like the Son of God"--he turns from that dramatization. 

King Nebuchadnezzar didn't know "what angel came/To make the rushing fire-flood seem/Like summer breeze by woodland stream", but Keble knows of people who do know: a widow, a father, and a pastor. They know, in the midst of their sorrows and troubles, who is there beside them. It is not one "like the Son of God": He is the Son of God! Keble urges the reader to look at them and learn from them, "Cleansing thy sight by prayer and faith". 

I think the words "secret spell" (to rhyme with "well") are unfortunate, but the poem ends with "The Saviour walking with His faithful Three"--or even six: Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego and the Matron/Widow, Father, and Pastor.

Image Credit (Public Domain): Simeon Solomon - Shadrach Meshach Abednego

Preview: John Keble's Poem for Saint Bartholomew's Feast

Monday, August 24 is the feast day of Saint Bartholomew so naturally, we'll continue our Son Rise Morning Show series on John Keble with his poem for that Apostle.

The Vatican City State website has these notes about Saint Bartholomew:

Bartholomew was one of the twelve disciples who followed Jesus after the Baptism in the Jordan River. His name is included in the Synoptic Gospels as one of the Apostles linked to his contemporary Philip. We know little about this Apostle, whose Feast Day is celebrated on 24 August, the day Catholic tradition dates as his martyrdom. He was originally from Cana in Galilee, near Nazareth. Jesus said of him: “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile” (Jn 1:47). In his Gospel, John speaks of Nathanael, who is Bartholomew, at least according to the exegetes. . . .

The Acts of the Apostles also mention Bartholomew among the disciples who gathered together in Jerusalem with Mary, Mother of God: “Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day’s journey away; and when they had entered, they went up to the upper room, where they were staying, Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James the son of Alphaeus and Simon the Zealot and Judas the son of James. All these with one accord devoted themselves to prayer, together with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brothers” (Acts 1:12-14).

Keble's poem is inspired by Our Lord's words to Nathaniel when they meet in Saint John's Gospel and focuses on the sense of sight, especially the sight of very great things: "Jesus answered and said unto him, 'Because I said unto thee, I saw the under the fig-tree, believest thou? Thou shalt see greater things than these.'" John 1:50.

Hold up thy mirror to the sun,
   And thou shalt need an eagle’s gaze,
So perfectly the polished stone
   Gives back the glory of his rays:

Turn it, and it shall paint as true
   The soft green of the vernal earth,
And each small flower of bashful hue,
   That closest hides its lowly birth.

Our mirror is a blessèd book,
   Where out from each illumined page
We see one glorious Image look
   All eyes to dazzle and engage,

The Son of God: and that indeed
   We see Him as He is, we know,
Since in the same bright glass we read
   The very life of things below.—

Eye of God’s word! where’er we turn
   Ever upon us! thy keen gaze
Can all the depths of sin discern,
   Unravel every bosom’s maze:

Who that has felt thy glance of dread
   Thrill through his heart’s remotest cells,
About his path, about his bed,
   Can doubt what spirit in thee dwells?

“What word is this?  Whence know’st thou me?”
   All wondering cries the humbled heart,
To hear thee that deep mystery,
   The knowledge of itself, impart.

The veil is raised; who runs may read,
   By its own light the truth is seen,
And soon the Israelite indeed
   Bows down t’ adore the Nazarene.

So did Nathanael, guileless man,
   At once, not shame-faced or afraid,
Owning Him God, who so could scan
   His musings in the lonely shade;

In his own pleasant fig-tree’s shade,
   Which by his household fountain grew,
Where at noon-day his prayer he made
   To know God better than he knew.

Oh! happy hours of heavenward thought!
   How richly crowned! how well improved!
In musing o’er the Law he taught,
   In waiting for the Lord he loved.

We must not mar with earthly praise
   What God’s approving word hath sealed:
Enough, if might our feeble lays
   Take up the promise He revealed;

“The child-like faith, that asks not sight,
   Waits not for wonder or for sign,
Believes, because it loves, aright—
   Shall see things greater, things divine.

“Heaven to that gaze shall open wide,
   And brightest angels to and fro
On messages of love shall glide
   ’Twixt God above and Christ below.”

So still the guileless man is blest,
   To him all crooked paths are straight,
Him on his way to endless rest
   Fresh, ever-growing strengths await.

God’s witnesses, a glorious host,
   Compass him daily like a cloud;
Martyrs and seers, the saved and lost,
   Mercies and judgments cry aloud.

Yet shall to him the still small voice,
   That first into his bosom found
A way, and fixed his wavering choice,
   Nearest and dearest ever sound.

There are many details to explicate here as Keble moves back and forth from the Gospel story to us; from Jesus's sight of Nathanial/Bartholomew beneath the fig tree to the sights that Apostle saw as he followed Jesus as a disciple and then Apostle, and finally to our efforts to see--and also to hear--what "child-like faith . . . because it loves" perceives in God's word and in His witnesses.

Here's the whole passage from the Gospel of St. John:

On the following day, he would go forth into Galilee, and he findeth Philip. And Jesus saith to him: Follow me. Now Philip was of Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip findeth Nathanael, and saith to him: We have found him of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets did write, Jesus the son of Joseph of Nazareth. And Nathanael said to him: Can any thing of good come from Nazareth? Philip saith to him: Come and see. Jesus saw Nathanael coming to him: and he saith of him: Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile. Nathanael saith to him: Whence knowest thou me? Jesus answered, and said to him: Before that Philip called thee, when thou wast under the fig tree, I saw thee. Nathanael answered him, and said: Rabbi, thou art the Son of God, thou art the King of Israel. Jesus answered, and said to him: Because I said unto thee, I saw thee under the fig tree, thou believest: greater things than these shalt thou see. And he saith to him: Amen, amen I say to you, you shall see the heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man. (1:43-51)

Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us!

Saint Bartholomew, pray for us!

Saint Philip, pray for us!

Image Credit (Public domain): St Bartholomew by Peter Paul Rubens, c. 1611

Preview: John Keble's "Ave Maria"

Since August is traditionally a month of special devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I thought it appropriate to highlight a Marian poem from John Keble's The Christian Year on the Son Rise Morning Show on Monday, August 17 (especially after celebrating the Solemnity of the Assumption). He included a poem on "The Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary" in his survey of the feasts of the Anglican liturgical year. 

He takes, of course, a verse from Saint Luke's Gospel as his inspiration, "And the Angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women." (1:28), but Keble also goes on at the end of the poem to reference Luke chapter 11 ("And it happened that, when he was saying these things, a certain woman from the crowd, lifting up her voice, said to him, “Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you.” Then he said, “Yes, but moreover: blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it.” 27-28):

Oh! Thou who deign’st to sympathise
With all our frail and fleshly ties,
   Maker yet Brother dear,
Forgive the too presumptuous thought,
If, calming wayward grief, I sought
   To gaze on Thee too near.

Yet sure ’twas not presumption, Lord,
’Twas Thine own comfortable word
   That made the lesson known:
Of all the dearest bonds we prove,
Thou countest sons and mothers’ love
   Most sacred, most Thine own.

When wandering here a little span,
Thou took’st on Thee to rescue man,
   Thou had’st no earthly sire:
That wedded love we prize so dear,
As if our heaven and home were here,
   It lit in Thee no fire.

On no sweet sister’s faithful breast
Wouldst Thou Thine aching forehead rest,
   On no kind brother lean:
But who, O perfect filial heart,
E’er did like Thee a true son’s part,
   Endearing, firm, serene?

Thou wept’st, meek maiden, mother mild,
Thou wept’st upon thy sinless Child,
   Thy very heart was riven:
And yet, what mourning matron here
Would deem thy sorrows bought too dear
   By all on this side Heaven?

A Son that never did amiss,
That never shamed His Mother’s kiss,
   Nor crossed her fondest prayer:
E’en from the tree He deigned to bow,
For her His agonised brow,
   Her, His sole earthly care.

Ave Maria! blessèd Maid!
Lily of Eden’s fragrant shade,
   Who can express the love
That nurtured thee so pure and sweet,
Making thy heart a shelter meet
   For Jesus’ holy dove?

Ave Maria!  Mother blest,
To whom, caressing and caressed,
   Clings the eternal Child;
Favoured beyond Archangels’ dream,
When first on Thee with tenderest gleam
   Thy new-born Saviour smiled:—

Ave Maria! thou whose name
All but adoring love may claim,
   Yet may we reach thy shrine;
For He, thy Son and Saviour, vows
To crown all lowly lofty brows
   With love and joy like thine.

Blessed is the womb that bare Him—blessed
The bosom where His lips were pressed,
   But rather blessed are they
Who hear His word and keep it well,
The living homes where Christ shall dwell,
   And never pass away.

He begins with meditation upon Our Lord, but turns soon to the relationship between Jesus and His Mother Mary. The use of "Ave Maria", a very Roman Catholic phrase, is balanced by Keble's reticence about devotion to the Mother of God ("All but adoring love may claim"), even though he hints at a coronation ("To crown all lowly lofty brows/With love and joy like thine.") I'd also call attention to the lovely reference to Mary at the foot of the Cross in the Gospel of John ("E’en from the tree He deigned to bow,/For her His agonised brow,/Her, His sole earthly care.") as a special aspect of Our Lord's love for His Mother, the Mother of God.

Nevertheless, his poem demonstrates the delicacy of the Oxford Movement leaders when they touched on matters that would seem "too Catholic" to some Anglicans. But when Newman prepared a sermon for the Annunciation in one of his Anglican Plain and Parochial Sermons, "The Reverence Due to the Virgin Mary" (Sermon 12 in Volume 2, with the verse from Luke 1:43 "From henceforth all generations shall call me blessed."), he seems to have to hinted at her sinlessness and virtue-- in contrast to our condition--although not according to our Catholic doctrine of the Immaculate Conception:

Observe the lesson which we gain for ourselves from the history of the Blessed Virgin; that the highest graces of the soul may be matured in private, and without those fierce trials to which the many are exposed in order to their sanctification. So hard are our hearts, that affliction, pain, and anxiety are sent to humble us, and dispose us towards a true faith in the heavenly word, when preached to us. Yet it is only our extreme obstinacy of unbelief which renders this chastisement necessary. The aids which God gives under the Gospel Covenant, have power to renew and purify our hearts, without uncommon providences to discipline us into receiving them. God gives His Holy Spirit to us silently; and the silent duties of every day (it may be humbly hoped) are blest to the sufficient sanctification of thousands, whom the world knows not of. The Blessed Virgin is a memorial of this; and it is consoling as well as instructive to know it. When we quench the grace of Baptism, then it is that we need severe trials to restore us. This is the case of the multitude, whose best estate is that of chastisement, repentance, supplication, and absolution, again and again. But there are those who go on in a calm and unswerving course, learning day by day to love Him who has redeemed {137} them, and overcoming the sin of their nature by His heavenly grace, as the various temptations to evil successively present themselves. And, of these undefiled followers of the Lamb, the Blessed Mary is the chief. Strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might, she "staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief;" she believed when Zacharias doubted,—with a faith like Abraham's she believed and was blessed for her belief, and had the performance of those things which were told her by the Lord. And when sorrow came upon her afterwards, it was but the blessed participation of her Son's sacred sorrows, not the sorrow of those who suffer for their sins.

Of course, as a Catholic priest, Newman would not only accept but defend the definition of the Doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, engaging in a written debate with another old Oxford Movement friend, E. B. Pusey!

Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us!

Saint John Henry Newman, pray for us! 

Preview: John Keble's "Silent Solitary Walk"

As we've been discussing John Keble's poems inspired by the readings and/or feasts of the liturgy, I've commented that they are not the greatest poetry in the English language but that they are well-composed and thoughtful compositions. In 1887, when Cassell and Company, London, published an edition of The Christian Year, the anonymous editor commented on Keble's verse, comparing and contrasting it to that of George Herbert or Henry Vaughan:

The power of Keble’s verse lies in its truth.  A faithful and pure nature, strong in home affections, full of love and reverence for all that is of heaven in our earthly lot, strives for the full consecration of man’s life with love and faith.  There is no rare gift of genius.  Keble is not in subtlety of thought or of expression another George Herbert, or another Henry Vaughan.  But his voice is not the less in unison with theirs, for every note is true, and wins us by its purity.  His also are melodies of the everlasting chime.

On Monday, August 10 on the Son Rise Morning Show, we'll examine the introductory poem, "Dedication" in which Keble admitted that he knew his limits; he can't compete with David or a "high-souled bard" like Herbert or Vaughan; he is feeble, "earth-palsied", wavering, and frail. Nevertheless, he seeks inspiration in prayer:

When in my silent solitary walk,
I sought a strain not all unworthy Thee,
My heart, still ringing with wild worldly talk,
Gave forth no note of holier minstrelsy.

Prayer is the secret, to myself I said,
Strong supplication must call down the charm,
And thus with untuned heart I feebly prayed,
Knocking at Heaven’s gate with earth-palsied arm.

Fountain of Harmony! Thou Spirit blest,
By whom the troubled waves of earthly sound
Are gathered into order, such as best
Some high-souled bard in his enchanted round

May compass, Power divine! Oh, spread Thy wing,
Thy dovelike wing that makes confusion fly,
Over my dark, void spirit, summoning
New worlds of music, strains that may not die.

Oh, happiest who before thine altar wait,
With pure hands ever holding up on high
The guiding Star of all who seek Thy gate,
The undying lamp of heavenly Poesy.

Too weak, too wavering, for such holy task
Is my frail arm, O Lord; but I would fain
Track to its source the brightness, I would bask
In the clear ray that makes Thy pathway plain.

I dare not hope with David’s harp to chase
The evil spirit from the troubled breast;
Enough for me if I can find such grace
To listen to the strain, and be at rest.

I warned Anna Mitchell that I would try to resist my English Major enthusiasm, but the mention of George Herbert and Henry Vaughan proved too much. One of my favorite English Lit classes was English 522A "Donne & the Metaphysical Poets", taught by the late Professor Frank Kastor (RIP) in the Spring of 19-- at Wichita State University. 

From Pastor Herbert: "Prayer (I)" in which each image invites meditation:

Prayer the church's banquet, angel's age,
God's breath in man returning to his birth,
The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage,
The Christian plummet sounding heav'n and earth
Engine against th' Almighty, sinner's tow'r,
Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear,
The six-days world transposing in an hour,
A kind of tune, which all things hear and fear;
Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss,
Exalted manna, gladness of the best,
Heaven in ordinary, man well drest,
The milky way, the bird of Paradise,
Church-bells beyond the stars heard, the soul's blood,
The land of spices; something understood.

And from Henry Vaughan, "Peace":

My Soul, there is a country
Afar beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry
All skillful in the wars;
There, above noise and danger
Sweet Peace sits, crown’d with smiles,
And One born in a manger
Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious friend
And (O my Soul awake!)
Did in pure love descend,
To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flow’r of peace,
The rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress, and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges,
For none can thee secure,
But One, who never changes,
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.

Preview: John Keble on the Lilies of the Field

Here comes August! On Monday, August 3 on the Son Rise Morning Show, we'll discuss this poem by Dr. John Keble, one of Newman's mentor and best friends, reflecting on the one of the most familiar images from the Gospel of Saint Matthew when Our Lord tells the disciples early in His teaching ministry, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they labour not, neither do they spin. But I say to you, that not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed as one of these." Matthew 6:28-29)

Keble choses one line from that chapter as his title and inspiration, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow." St. Matthew, 6:28. And he begins springtime, while in Kansas (and elsewhere in the USA) we're in hot, hot summer:

Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies,
   Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew,
What more than magic in you lies,
   To fill the heart’s fond view?
In childhood’s sports, companions gay,
In sorrow, on Life’s downward way,
How soothing! in our last decay
   Memorials prompt and true.

Relics ye are of Eden’s bowers,
   As pure, as fragrant, and as fair,
As when ye crowned the sunshine hours
   Of happy wanderers there.
Fall’n all beside—the world of life,
How is it stained with fear and strife!
In Reason’s world what storms are rife,
   What passions range and glare!

But cheerful and unchanged the while
   Your first and perfect form ye show,
The same that won Eve’s matron smile
   In the world’s opening glow.
The stars of heaven a course are taught
Too high above our human thought:
Ye may be found if ye are sought,
   And as we gaze, we know.

Ye dwell beside our paths and homes,
   Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow,
And guilty man where’er he roams,
   Your innocent mirth may borrow.
The birds of air before us fleet,
They cannot brook our shame to meet—
But we may taste your solace sweet
   And come again to-morrow.

Ye fearless in your nests abide—
   Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise,
Your silent lessons, undescried
   By all but lowly eyes:
For ye could draw th’ admiring gaze
Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys:
Your order wild, your fragrant maze,
   He taught us how to prize.

Ye felt your Maker’s smile that hour,
   As when He paused and owned you good;
His blessing on earth’s primal bower,
   Ye felt it all renewed.
What care ye now, if winter’s storm
Sweep ruthless o’er each silken form?
Christ’s blessing at your heart is warm,
   Ye fear no vexing mood.

Alas! of thousand bosoms kind,
   That daily court you and caress,
How few the happy secret find
   Of your calm loveliness!
“Live for to-day! to-morrow’s light
To-morrow’s cares shall bring to sight,
Go sleep like closing flowers at night,
   And Heaven thy morn will bless.”

We have ascribed many images and meanings to lilies because of their beauty. This website lists the many occasions on which to give lilies as gifts: 

• Weddings and anniversaries, to represent eternal love and loyalty
• Funerals and memorials, to honor the departed and provide comfort
• Graduations, to celebrate new beginnings and personal growth
• Mother’s Day, to honor a mother’s nurturing spirit
• Get-well wishes, to express hope and encouragement during illness
• Housewarming celebrations, to welcome new beginnings
• Religious holidays, to symbolize purity, devotion, and divine grace

The white lily flower has been associated with purity, and therefore with the Blessed Virgin Mary and other virgin saints like Saint Joseph and Saint Clare of Assisi whose feast is August 11, for example. 

Keble notes that Eve enjoyed the lily's beauty before the Fall in the Garden of Eden and that the flower is everywhere, reminding us of the transitions and the transitory nature of life. But because Jesus noted the beauty of the lilies*, surpassing the glory of King Solomon, Keble wants the reader to learn the lesson of this passage, to face life with balance and calmness, without worry or despair, faintly echoing Psalm 29/30, verse 6: "In the evening weeping shall have place, and in the morning gladness."

*("In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea with a beauty in his bosom that transfigures you and me." from "The Battle Hymn of the Republic", Julia Ward Howe)

Image Credit (Public Domain): Garden of Lilies

Image Credit (Public Domain): Fresco by Giotto depicting St. Clare of Assisi holding a lily.

Preview: Keble (and Newman) on why Jesus Wept

On Monday, July 27, we'll continue our Son Rise Morning Show series on John Keble's The Christian Year. This time we'll look at his poetic meditation on the verse "And when He was come near, He beheld the city [Jerusalem], and wept over it." St. Luke 19:41. Keble explores why Jesus weeps and what does not inspire His tears:

Why doth my Saviour weep
   At sight of Sion’s bowers?
Shows it not fair from yonder steep,
   Her gorgeous crown of towers?
Mark well His holy pains:
   ’Tis not in pride or scorn,
That Israel’s King with sorrow stains
   His own triumphal morn.

It is not that His soul
   Is wandering sadly on,
In thought how soon at death’s dark goal
   Their course will all be run,
Who now are shouting round
   Hosanna to their chief;
No thought like this in Him is found,
   This were a Conquerer’s grief.

Or doth He feel the Cross
   Already in His heart,
The pain, the shame, the scorn, the loss?
   Feel e’en His God depart?
No: though He knew full well
   The grief that then shall be—
The grief that angels cannot tell—
   Our God in agony.

It is not thus He mourns;
   Such might be martyr’s tears,
When his last lingering look he turns
   On human hopes and fears;
But hero ne’er or saint
   The secret load might know,
With which His spirit waxeth faint;
   His is a Saviour’s woe.

“If thou had’st known, e’en thou,
   At least in this thy day,
The message of thy peace! but now
   ’Tis passed for aye away:
Now foes shall trench thee round,
   And lay thee even with earth,
And dash thy children to the ground,
   Thy glory and thy mirth.”

And doth the Saviour weep
   Over His people’s sin,
Because we will not let Him keep
   The souls He died to win?
Ye hearts, that love the Lord,
   If at this, sight ye burn,
See that in thought, in deed, in word,
   Ye hate what made Him mourn.

Among the more than 600 sermons Saint John Henry Newman wrote as an Anglican, we don't have one on this Gospel story or verse. Newman does explore the meaning of the "Tears of Christ at the Grave of Lazarus", citing the passage "Jesus said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto Him, Lord, come and see. Jesus wept. Then said the Jews, Behold how He loved him." John 11:34-36."

In both Keble's poem and Newman's sermon, the question is Why? Why did Our Lord, the Second Person of the Trinity Incarnate as a man, weep? Newman asks summarizes the question:

ON first reading these words the question naturally arises in the mind—why did our Lord weep at the grave of Lazarus? He knew He had power to raise him, why should He act the part of those who sorrow for the dead? In attempting any answer to this inquiry, we should ever remember that the thoughts of our Saviour's mind are far beyond our comprehension. Hardly do we enter into the feelings and meaning of men like ourselves, who are gifted with any special talent; even human philosophers or poets are obscure from the depth of their conceptions. What then must be the marvellous abyss of love and understanding in Him who, though partaker of our nature, is the Son of God?

This, indeed, is evident, as a matter of fact, on the face of the Scripture record, as any one may see who will take the trouble to inspect it. It is not, for {129} instance, the text alone which raises a question; but the whole narrative, in which it occurs, exhibits our Saviour's conduct in various lights, which it is difficult for weak creatures, such as we are, properly to blend together.

In the same way, Keble explores why Jesus wept over Jerusalem, not just because of its coming destruction (in 70 A.D.) and the loss of life, but because of the loss of souls. At the end of his poem, Keble offers some pastoral advice to his readers: mourn because of how Jesus mourned for the loss of souls, and "hate what made Him mourn."

Newman offers his own guidance to his listeners and readers:

Blessed be his name! nothing can rob us of this consolation: we will be as certain, through His grace, that He is standing over us in love, as though we saw Him. We will not, after our experience of Lazarus's history, doubt an instant that He is thoughtful about us. He knows the beginnings of our illness, though He keeps at a distance. He knows when to remain away and when to draw near. He notes down the advances of it, and the stages. He tells truly when His friend Lazarus is sick and when he sleeps. We all have experience of this in the narrative before us, and henceforth, so be it! will never complain at the course of His providence. Only, we will beg of Him an increase of faith;—a more lively perception of the curse under which the world lies, and of our own personal demerits, a more understanding view of the mystery of His Cross, a more devout and implicit reliance on the virtue of it, and a more confident persuasion that He will never put upon us more than we can bear, never afflict His brethren with any woe except for their own highest benefit.

Image: "Jesus Weeping over Jerusalem" by James Tissot. 

Saint John Henry Newman, pray for us!

Preview: John Keble's Poem for the Feast of Saint James the Greater

On Monday, July 20, we'll continue our Son Rise Morning Show series on John Keble's book of poetry celebrating The Christian Year, the liturgical year according to the Anglican Book of Common Prayer. This poem is for the feast of Saint James the Apostle, which we will celebrate on Saturday, July 25. The Gospel for that day at Mass (in the Catholic Church) is Matthew 20: 20-28, the passage in which the "Mother of the sons of Zebedee [James and John] approached Jesus with her sons and did him homage, wishing to ask him for something" for her sons--something that will make the other ten Apostles "indignant at the brothers"!

Keble chooses the verse in which Jesus explains the situation further to the brothers, and probably to the confusion and consternation of their Mother (does she know what Jesus means by the "chalice that [He] is going to drink" and what that baptism is?):

Ye shall drink indeed of My cup, and be baptised with the baptism that I am baptised with: but to sit on My right hand, and on My left, is not Mine to give, but it shall be given to them for whom it is prepared of My Father.  St. Matthew xx. 23.

Sit down and take thy fill of joy
   At God’s right hand, a bidden guest,
Drink of the cup that cannot cloy,
   Eat of the bread that cannot waste.
O great Apostle! rightly now
   Thou readest all thy Saviour meant,
What time His grave yet gentle brow
   In sweet reproof on thee was bent.

“Seek ye to sit enthroned by me?
   Alas! ye know not what ye ask,
The first in shame and agony,
   The lowest in the meanest task—
This can ye be? and came ye drink
   The cup that I in tears must steep,
Nor from the ’whelming waters shrink
   That o’er Me roll so dark and deep?”

“We can—Thine are we, dearest Lord,
   In glory and in agony,
To do and suffer all Thy word;
   Only be Thou for ever nigh.”—
“Then be it so—My cup receive,
   And of My woes baptismal taste:
But for the crown, that angels weave
   For those next Me in glory placed,

“I give it not by partial love;
   But in My Father’s book are writ
What names on earth shall lowliest prove,
   That they in Heaven may highest sit.”
Take up the lesson, O my heart;
   Thou Lord of meekness, write it there,
Thine own meek self to me impart,
   Thy lofty hope, thy lowly prayer.

If ever on the mount with Thee
   I seem to soar in vision bright,
With thoughts of coming agony,
   Stay Thou the too presumptuous flight:
Gently along the vale of tears
   Lead me from Tabor’s sunbright steep,
Let me not grudge a few short years
   With thee t’ward Heaven to walk and weep:

Too happy, on my silent path,
   If now and then allowed, with Thee
Watching some placid holy death,
   Thy secret work of love to see;
But, oh! most happy, should Thy call,
   Thy welcome call, at last be given—
“Come where thou long hast storeth thy all
   Come see thy place prepared in Heaven.”

Keble first addresses Saint James the Greater in Heaven, who knows fully what this Gospel story means, the suffering (and martyrdom) and joy, with highs and lows and consolations, on Earth and the eternal joy of Heaven. 

He expands the dialogue between Jesus and the Sons of Zebedee to explore exactly what that chalice or cup meant and then in the fourth stanza addresses his own heart ("Take up thy lesson") and even applies the experience of the Transfiguration to his own Christian life, with its highs and lows.

Most of all, he prays for that happy and welcome call (even noting the provisional aspect of this call) when he will be invited into Heaven!

My late father was named James and he converted to Catholicism after years of attending Sunday Mass with our family when I was in high school. He chose Saint Joseph as his Confirmation name.

Saint James the Greater, pray for us!

Image Credit (public domain): St James the Elder (c. 1612–1613) by Peter Paul Rubens

Preview: "The Defender of the Faith" and "King Charles the Martyr"

Just before the hosts and the engineer of Son Rise Morning Show went off to their summer vacation after the Independence Day Holiday, I mentioned to Anna Mitchell how King Charles III has announced a slight change in his approach to being the Supreme Governor of the Church of England and Defender of the Faith. So she thought we should talk about that on Monday, July 13 during our regular Son Rise Morning Show segment, and I also looked at John Keble's The Christian Year poems, and found one about another King Charles--Charles I of England, Scotland and Wales, under the title of "King Charles the Martyr."

The change or addition to King Charles III's role in the Church of England was announced in "the Sovereign Grant Report 2025-26, and expands on the monarch’s responsibilities compared with last year’s version." According to this website:

The previous report described the King simply as the “Head of the Church of England and Defender of the Faith.” The latest edition adds a broader emphasis on religious inclusion, stating: “His Majesty is Supreme Governor of the Church of England and protects the space for Faith within the multi-faith nation.”

The revised wording reflects King Charles’ long-standing commitment to interfaith dialogue, a cause he has championed since his time as Prince of Wales. Throughout his public life, the King has regularly engaged with representatives of Jewish, Muslim, Sikh, Orthodox and other religious communities in the UK and overseas, often speaking about cooperation among the Abrahamic faiths.

In 2023 before his May 6 Coronation, we talked about the Coronation Oaths that Charles would take--with some history about the changes in the Oath regarding the Catholic Church.

The website above reminds us:

Before his coronation in 2023, there had been speculation that Charles might adopt the title “Defender of Faith” rather than the traditional “Defender of the Faith,” signalling a broader commitment to all religions. However, he ultimately retained the historic title used by previous British monarchs.

Gavin Ashenden, former Anglican bishop and Chaplain to Queen Elizabeth II from 2008 to 2017, who became a Catholic in 2019, thinks that Charles III has relinquished his title as "Defender of the Faith", meaning of the Anglican Church, its doctrine, the Thirty-Nine Articles, etc. 

I'm not so sure since the Church of England has in several ways followed the spirit of the age, and may be occupying that "space" already (Carl Trueman in the article cited below has the same idea), and has been in decline in members and attendance for some years. Ashenden also comments on what the "space" or nexus of a "multi-faith nation" is and who occupies it (noting that Muslims might not accept such a space!) Is the monarch going to engage in ecumenical dialogue or just go to different religious events? Ashenden comments on the possibility of abdication, but who in Parliament would require it? Does it matter to the people of England?

Carl Trueman also notes in "No Faith Worth Defending" for First Things that multi-culturalism is the only way for the people of England to view religion, because the nation "no longer has any understanding of what religion is and why it is important." Or, as Saint John Henry Newman said in his biglietto speech on May 12, 1879, describing the phenomenon of the spirit of liberalism in religion (the anti-dogmatic principle) and its "doctrines" (!):

Revealed religion is not a truth, but a sentiment and a taste; not an objective fact, not miraculous; and it is the right of each individual to make it say just what strikes his fancy. Devotion is not necessarily founded on faith. Men may go to Protestant Churches and to Catholic, may get good from both and belong to neither. They may fraternise together in spiritual thoughts and feelings, without having any views at all of doctrine in common, or seeing the need of them. Since, then, religion is so personal a peculiarity and so private a possession, we must of necessity ignore it in the intercourse of man with man. If a man puts on a new religion every morning, what is that to you? It is as impertinent to think about a man's religion as about his sources of income or his management of his family. Religion is in no sense the bond of society.

And what does this mean for Catholics in England? Does it really matter to them what the monarch's role is in the official Anglican Church? May this change lead to more Anglicans converting and joining the Anglican Ordinariate?

So we'll discuss these issues on Monday, July 13, and I look forward to Anna's or Matt's thoughts.

In contrast--we probably won't have any time to discuss this at all!--some members of the Church of English--the highest High Church Anglicans!--reverence King Charles I as a martyr of the Faith (a Defender of the Anglican Faith to the end). Lord Nicholas Windsor (a convert to Catholicism like his mother, the late Duchess of Kent) wrote this introduction on the Society of King Charles the Martyr's homepage:

“May I welcome you to these web-pages of The Society of King Charles the Martyr with the hope that you will find their contents interesting and informative. Although a small society we remain very active and lively in providing a fitting organisation to keep the memory of the life and death of King Charles. It was the Blessed John Henry Newman who recalled the Church to remember ‘our own Saint Charles’ and John Keble who wrote, ‘It is as natural that the Church of England should keep this day [30th January] as it is that Christ’s Universal Church should keep Saint Stephen’s martyrdom.’ In the King’s personal piety, devotion and support of the Church, his ecumenical understanding (far advanced for his day), his patronage of the Arts in the service of God, his inspiration of the Christian classic, Eikon Basilike and of course his martyrdom, we have much to REMEMBER and be thankful for.”

(Obviously before Newman's canonization!) Lord Nicholas Windsor is "the first male blood royal to become Catholic since Charles II [on his deathbed]" and of course, he was removed from the succession rolls.

And here is Keble's poem for the martyr king's feast:

King Charles the Martyr.

This is thankworthy, if a man for conscience toward God endure grief, suffering wrongfully. 1 St. Peter ii. 19.

Praise to our pardoning God! though silent now
   The thunders of the deep prophetic sky,
Though in our sight no powers of darkness bow
   Before th’ Apostles’ glorious company;

The Martyrs’ noble army still is ours,
   Far in the North our fallen days have seen
How in her woe this tenderest spirit towers
   For Jesus’ sake in agony serene.

Praise to our God! not cottage hearths alone,
   And shades impervious to the proud world’s glare,
Such witness yield; a monarch from his throne
   Springs to his Cross and finds his glory there.

Yes: whereso’er one trace of thee is found,
   As in the Sacred Land, the shadows fall:
With beating hearts we roam the haunted ground,
   Lone battle-field, or crumbling prison hall.

And there are aching solitary breasts,
   Whose widowed walk with thought of thee is cheered
Our own, our royal Saint: thy memory rests
   On many a prayer, the more for thee endeared.

True son of our dear Mother+, early taught
   With her to worship and for her to die,
Nursed in her aisles to more than kingly thought,
   Oft in her solemn hours we dream thee nigh.

For thou didst love to trace her daily lore,
   And where we look for comfort or for calm,
Over the self-same lines to bend, and pour
   Thy heart with hers in some victorious psalm.

And well did she thy loyal love repay;
   When all forsook, her Angels still were nigh,
Chained and bereft, and on thy funeral way,
   Straight to the Cross she turned thy dying eye

And yearly now, before the Martyrs’ King,
   For thee she offers her maternal tears,
Calls us, like thee, to His dear feet to cling,
   And bury in His wounds our earthly fears.

The Angels hear, and there is mirth in Heaven,*
   Fit prelude of the joy, when spirits won
Like those to patient Faith, shall rise forgiven,
   And at their Saviour’s knees thy bright example own.

+Mother=the Church of England I think (not the Blessed Virgin Mary)

*"There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." (St. Luke 15:10)

Image Source (Public Domain): The Eikon Basilike, a purported spiritual autobiography attributed to Charles I, published days after his execution.

Saints Peter and Paul: Poetry from Keble and Newman

Monday, June 29 is the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul (the third weekday Solemnity this June here in the USA). We'll discuss John Keble's poem on "Saint Peter's Day" and glance at a poem or two on Saint Paul written by Saint John Henry Newman on the Son Rise Morning Show.

Keble's poem is inspired by a verse from the First Reading on the Solemnity: "When Herod would have brought him forth, the same night Peter was sleeping". Acts 12:26:

Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved,
Watch by Thine own forgiven friend;
In sharpest perils faithful proved,
Let his soul love Thee to the end.

The prayer is heard—else why so deep (5)
His slumber on the eve of death?
And wherefore smiles he in his sleep
As one who drew celestial breath?

He loves and is beloved again—
Can his soul choose but be at rest? (10)
Sorrow hath fled away, and Pain
Dares not invade the guarded nest.

He dearly loves, and not alone:
For his winged thoughts are soaring high
Where never yet frail heart was known (15)
To breathe its vain Affection’s sigh.

He loves and weeps—but more than tears
Have sealed Thy welcome and his love—
One look lives in him, and endears
Crosses and wrongs where’er he rove: (20)

That gracious chiding look, Thy call
To win him to himself and Thee,
Sweetening the sorrow of his fall
Which else were rued too bitterly.

E’en through the veil of sheep it shines, (21)
The memory of that kindly glance;—
The Angel watching by, divines
And spares awhile his blissful trance.

Or haply to his native lake
His vision wafts him back, to talk (22)
With Jesus, ere His flight He take,
As in that solemn evening walk,

When to the bosom of His friend,
The Shepherd, He whose name is Good.
Did His dear lambs and sheep commend, (25)
Both bought and nourished with His blood:

Then laid on him th’ inverted tree,
Which firm embraced with heart and arm,
Might cast o’er hope and memory,
O’er life and death, its awful charm. (30)

With brightening heart he bears it on,
His passport through this eternal gates,
To his sweet home—so nearly won,
He seems, as by the door he waits,

The unexpressive notes to hear (35)
Of angel song and angel motion,
Rising and falling on the ear
Like waves in Joy’s unbounded ocean.—

His dream is changed—the Tyrant’s voice
Calls to that last of glorious deeds— (40)
But as he rises to rejoice,
Not Herod but an Angel leads.

He dreams he sees a lamp flash bright,
Glancing around his prison room—
But ’tis a gleam of heavenly light (45)
That fills up all the ample gloom.

The flame, that in a few short years
Deep through the chambers of the dead
Shall pierce, and dry the fount of tears,
Is waving o’er his dungeon-bed. (50)

Touched he upstarts—his chains unbind—
Through darksome vault, up massy stair,
His dizzy, doubting footsteps wind
To freedom and cool moonlight air.

Then all himself, all joy and calm, (55)
Though for a while his hand forego,
Just as it touched, the martyr’s palm,
He turns him to his task below;

The pastoral staff, the keys of Heaven,
To wield a while in grey-haired might, (60)
Then from his cross to spring forgiven,
And follow Jesus out of sight. 

At first, Keble addresses Our Lord to aid Saint Peter in Herod's jail. Then Keble depicts Saint Peter dreaming of his life with Jesus: how Jesus called him to be His disciple; his denying of Christ thrice; Jesus looking at him after the third denial; the walk near the lake after the Resurrection. Saint Peter even dreams of his own martyrdom but then "turns . . . to his task below" as pastor and holder of the keys.

If we have time on Monday, June 29, we'll look at this poem by Newman, which also recounts a dream: his dream of meeting Saint Paul in answer to a prayer. Newman wrote this poem during his fateful Mediterranean voyage:

97. St. Paul

{168} I DREAM'D that, with a passionate complaint,

I wish'd me born amid God's deeds of might;

And envied those who had the presence bright

Of gifted Prophet and strong-hearted Saint,

Whom my heart loves, and Fancy strives to paint.

I turn'd, when straight a stranger met my sight,

Came as my guest, and did awhile unite

His lot with mine, and lived without restraint.

Courteous he was, and grave,—so meek in mien,

It seem'd untrue, or told a purpose weak;

Yet, in the mood, he could with aptness speak,

Or with stern force, or show of feelings keen,

Marking deep craft, methought, or hidden pride:—

Then came a voice,—"St. Paul is at thy side."

Off Sardinia. June 20, 1833. Earlier during this Mediterranean trip, Newman had written, referring to Acts 28:3: 70. St. Paul at Melita (Malta) {128} "And when Paul had gathered a bundle of sticks, and laid them on the fire, there came a viper out of the heat."  SECURE in his prophetic strength,     The water peril o'er, The many-gifted man at length     Stepp'd on the promised shore. He trod the shore; but not to rest,     Nor wait till Angels came; Lo! humblest pains the Saint attest,     The firebrands and the flame. But, when he felt the viper's smart,     Then instant aid was given; Christian! hence learn to do thy part,     And leave the rest to Heaven. Messina. February 8, 1833.

Saints Peter and Paul, pray for us!

Image source (Public Domain): Saints Peter and Paul ca. 1616 by Jusepe de Ribera (1591-1652)

Preview: John Keble on Saint John the Baptist

Monday, June 22 is the feast of Saints John Fisher and Thomas More (and Saint Paulinus; both are optional memorials in the USA; the Anglican Ordinariate celebrates Fisher and More with a Liturgical Feast). It's no surprise that the Anglican minister John Keble DID NOT write a poem celebrating them, but he did write a poem about another great martyr, Saint John the Baptist. The Feast of the Nativity of the Saint John the Baptist is celebrated on June 24, so we'll discuss this poem on the Son Rise Morning Show on Monday, June 22.

As I noted six years ago on the National Catholic Register blog, Henry VIII had two decisions to make: first, would he commute the death sentence to the less brutal beheading, instead of what had been pronounced after he'd been found guilty of treason?:

John Cardinal Fisher, the former Bishop of Rochester — Henry VIII had stripped him of that title — was sentenced to death on June 17, 1535. The sentence pronounced against him brought a flush of color to his sunken cheeks, eyewitnesses remarked. As a traitor, he would be drawn to the place of execution on a hurdle, hanged, cut down still alive and then endure vivisection. Finally his head would be cut off and his body would be divided into four parts: Henry VIII would decide where his head and his quarters would be displayed. In other words, he would be hanged, drawn, and quartered.

Henry VIII did commute that sentence: the Cardinal Bishop would merely suffer beheading.

The second decision: when to carry out the sentence?:

Henry VIII faced a dilemma with the selection of Fisher’s execution date as the great feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist was approaching on June 24; the Vigil of his Feast was celebrated solemnly too. Since Bishop Fisher had once cited St. John the Baptist as his model in the defense of marriage, beheading him on that that day wouldn’t do.

So Saint John Fisher was beheaded on June 22, the feast of the first English martyr, St. Alban.

In this poem, John Keble focuses on the link between Elijah the Prophet and Saint John the Baptist and the Church's constant need for prophets to proclaim the truth, inspired by verses from the Book of the Prophet Malachi:

Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord: and he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers. Malachi iv. 5, 6.

As the Angel told Zechariah in the Temple, his son John would "convert many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God. And he shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elias; that he may turn the hearts of the fathers unto the children, and the incredulous to the wisdom of the just, to prepare unto the Lord a perfect people." (Luke 1:16-17) Then Zechariah repeated that promise in the "Benedictus": "And thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the Highest: for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways: To give knowledge of salvation to his people, unto the remission of their sins . . ." (Luke 1:76-77) 

That's what Keble is praying for in this poem for "Saint John Baptist's Day" as he weaves together the stories of St. Elijah and St. John, appealing to pastors in the Church through these nine stanzas:

Twice in her season of decay
The fallen Church hath felt Elijah’s eye
Dart from the wild its piercing ray:
Not keener burns, in the chill morning sky,
The herald star,
Whose torch afar
Shadows and boding night-birds fly.

Methinks we need him once again,
That favoured seer—but where shall he be found?
By Cherith’s side we seek in vain,
In vain on Carmel’s green and lonely mound:
Angels no more
From Sinai soar,
On his celestial errands bound.

But wafted to her glorious place
By harmless fire, among the ethereal thrones,
His spirit with a dear embrace
Thee the loved harbinger of Jesus owns,
Well-pleased to view
Her likeness true,
And trace, in thine, her own deep tones.

Deathless himself, he joys with thee
To commune how a faithful martyr dies,
And in the blest could envy be,
He would behold thy wounds with envious eyes,
Star of our morn,
Who yet unborn
Didst guide our hope, where Christ should rise.

Now resting from your jealous care
For sinners, such as Eden cannot know,
Ye pour for us your mingled prayer,
No anxious fear to damp Affection’s glow,
Love draws a cloud
From you to shroud
Rebellion’s mystery here below.

And since we see, and not afar,
The twilight of the great and dreadful day,
Why linger, till Elijah’s car
Stoop from the clouds? Why sleep ye? Rise and pray,
Ye heralds sealed
In camp or field
Your Saviour’s banner to display.

Where is the lore the Baptist taught,
The soul unswerving and the fearless tongue?
The much-enduring wisdom, sought
By lonely prayer the haunted rocks among?
Who counts it gain
His light should wane,
So the whole world to Jesus throng?

Thou Spirit, who the Church didst lend
Her eagle wings, to shelter in the wild,
We pray Thee, ere the Judge descend,
With flames like these, all bright and undefiled,
Her watch-fires light,
To guide aright
Our weary souls by earth beguiled.

So glorious let thy Pastors shine,
That by their speaking lives the world may learn
First filial duty, then divine,
That sons to parents, all to Thee may turn;
And ready prove
In fires of love,
At sight of Thee, for aye to burn.

As Wordsworth wrote in "London, 1802"--"Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:/England hath need of thee: . . .We are selfish men;/Oh! raise us up, return to us again;", Keble looks for someone like Saint Elijah or Saint John to revive the religious and moral spirit of the Church. I'm not sure what Keble means by the "season of decay" of the "fallen Church" or what two events he has in mind in the first stanza. Keble's pastoral concern is that the Church needs new prophets to encourage greater Christian love and fervor today.

As Keble traces the connections between the two saints in Heaven, he notes the contrast between them: Elijah was taken to Heaven in the whirlwind and chariot of fire, while John was imprisoned and martyred by beheading. He does refer to the scene of the Visitation, when John leapt in Elizabeth's womb at the presence of the Savior in His Mother's womb (Star of our morn,/Who yet unborn/Didst guide our hope . . .).

Keble wants Saint John to inspire a greater missionary fervor among Christians, to raise the "Saviour’s banner" and lead "the whole world to Jesus"--and he looks to the Holy Spirit to inspire the Pastors of the Church through "their speaking lives" (through example not just words) to guide families in greater duty and love, even in "fires of love" burning forever.

I think that Keble has too many images and parallels to balance throughout the poem with fires and eagles and clouds, but his zeal is obvious.

The zeal of Saints John Fisher and Thomas More was just as obvious in 1535! May they intercede for us on their feast and and every day to be as true and faithful! 

Preview: Keble on the Angels of God and "One Sinner that Repenteth"

On Monday, June 15, we'll continue our summer series on the Son Rise Morning Show as we examine and explicate the liturgical poetry of John Keble, the Anglican minister and friend of Saint John Henry Newman. I selected this poem from The Christian Year for the Third Sunday After Trinity because Keble and Newman shared this devotion to the Angels of God, and particularly, each Christian's Guardian Angel.

The Verse that inspired the poem: "There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." (St. Luke 15:10)

The first six stanzas describe the general effects of sin on Christian souls, as thoughts of past sins can be oppressive and divisive. Their consciences will not let them find rest anywhere, because their angels urge them to acknowledge their sins and repent:

O hateful spell of Sin! when friends are nigh,
To make stern Memory tell her tale unsought,
And raise accusing shades of hours gone by,
To come between us and all kindly thought!

Chilled at her touch, the self-reproaching soul
Flies from the heart and home she dearest loves,
To where lone mountains tower, or billows roll,
Or to your endless depth, ye solemn groves.

In vain: the averted cheek in loneliest dell
Is conscious of a gaze it cannot bear,
The leaves that rustle near us seem to tell
Our heart’s sad secret to the silent air.

Nor is the dream untrue; for all around
The heavens are watching with their thousand eyes,
We cannot pass our guardian angel’s bound,
Resigned or sullen, he will hear our sighs.

He in the mazes of the budding wood
Is near, and mourns to see our thankless glance
Dwell coldly, where the fresh green earth is strewed
With the first flowers that lead the vernal dance.

In wasteful bounty showered, they smile unseen,
Unseen by man—but what if purer sprights
By moonlight o’er their dewy bosoms lean
To adore the Father of all gentle lights?

Then Keble addresses an individual sinner, perhaps reading this verse from Saint Luke, to urge her to repent for the sake of relieving God's angel's "grief and shame" and because, once she has repented, she will "be turned" and she will be "fearless" and won't have to "shudder at the Eye that saw" her sin but receive a "dearest welcome" from "the angels of God" as her heart changes:

If such there be, O grief and shame to think
That sight of thee should overcloud their joy,
A new-born soul, just waiting on the brink
Of endless life, yet wrapt in earth’s annoy!

O turn, and be thou turned! the selfish tear,
In bitter thoughts of low-born care begun,
Let it flow on, but flow refined and clear,
The turbid waters brightening as they run.

Let it flow on, till all thine earthly heart
In penitential drops have ebbed away,
Then fearless turn where Heaven hath set thy part,
Nor shudder at the Eye that saw thee stray.

O lost and found! all gentle souls below
Their dearest welcome shall prepare, and prove
Such joy o’er thee, as raptured seraphs know,
Who learn their lesson at the Throne of Love.

As an Anglican, Newman wrote a poem about Angels too, not doubting their existence, but wondering about how well he can perceive their influence on his life, sinful and fallen as he is:

31. Angelic Guidance

{73} ARE these the tracks of some unearthly Friend,

His foot prints, and his vesture-skirts of light,

Who, as I talk with men, conforms aright

Their sympathetic words, or deeds that blend

With my hid thought;—or stoops him to attend

My doubtful-pleading grief;—or blunts the might

Of ill I see not;—or in dreams of night

Figures the scope, in which what is will end?

Were I Christ's own, then fitly might I call

That vision real; for to the thoughtful mind

That walks with Him, He half unveils His face;

But, when on earth-stain'd souls such tokens fall,

These dare not claim as theirs what there they find,

Yet, not all hopeless, eye His boundless grace.

Whitchurch (in Shropshire). December 8, 1832.

Also among his Verses on Various Occasions, Saint John Henry Newman wrote a personal reflection on his "Guardian Angel", reflecting on how he'd been accompanied throughout his life, from his baptism, through his youthful rebellion, during his conversion to Catholicism ("To place me under Mary's smile,/And Peter's royal feet!")--with the hope that his Angel will be there on his deathbed. The last two stanzas definitely anticipate The Dream of Gerontius (1865)!

{300} MY oldest friend, mine from the hour

When first I drew my breath;

My faithful friend, that shall be mine,

Unfailing, till my death;

Thou hast been ever at my side;

My Maker to thy trust

Consign'd my soul, what time He framed

The infant child of dust.

No beating heart in holy prayer,

No faith, inform'd aright,

Gave me to Joseph's tutelage,

Or Michael's conquering might.

Nor patron Saint, nor Mary's love,

The dearest and the best,

Has known my being, as thou hast known,

And blest, as thou hast blest. {301}

Thou wast my sponsor at the font;

And thou, each budding year,

Didst whisper elements of truth

Into my childish ear.

And when, ere boyhood yet was gone,

My rebel spirit fell,

Ah! thou didst see, and shudder too,

Yet bear each deed of Hell.

And then in turn, when judgments came,

And scared me back again,

Thy quick soft breath was near to soothe

And hallow every pain.

Oh! who of all thy toils and cares

Can tell the tale complete,

To place me under Mary's smile,

And Peter's royal feet!

And thou wilt hang about my bed,

When life is ebbing low;

Of doubt, impatience, and of gloom,

The jealous sleepless foe. {302}

Mine, when I stand before the Judge;

And mine, if spared to stay

Within the golden furnace, till

My sin is burn'd away.

And mine, O Brother of my soul,

When my release shall come;

Thy gentle arms shall lift me then,

Thy wings shall waft me home.

The Oratory. 1853.