Saturday, May 23, 2009

Feast of the Ascension ! The Sunday Feast !

Crown Him with many crowns!The Lamb upon His throne
Hark how the heavenly anthem drowns all music, but its own
Awake my soul and sing of Him who died for Thee
And hail Him as thy matchless King through all eternity.

Crown Him the Virgin's Son, the God Incarnate born
Whose arm these crimson trophies won which now his brow adorn
Fruit of the Mystic Rose as of that rose the stem
The root whence mercy ever flows the Babe of Bethlehem!

Crown Him, the Lord of Love, behold his hands and side
Rich wounds yet visible above in beauty glorified;
No angel in the sky can fully bear that sight.
But downwards bends his burning eye at mysteries so bright!

Crown Him the Lord of Peace whose power a sceptre sways
From pole to pole that wars may cease absorbed in prayer and praise
His reign shall know no end and round His pierced Feet
Fair flowers of Paradise extend their fragrance ever sweet!

Crown Him the Lord of years, the Potentate of Time
Creator of the rolling spheres ineffably sublime!
Glazed in the sea of light, whose everlasting waves
Reflect His form, the Infinite,who lives and loves and saves!

Crown Him the Lord of Heaven one with the Father known
And the blest Spirit through Him given from yonder triune throne!
All hail Redeemer hail! For thou hast died for me!
Thy praise shall never never fail throughout eternity.


And this beautiful poem dedicated to Mary on the Ascension

Why is thy face so lit with smiles, O blessed Mother, why?
And wherefore is thy beaming look so fixed upon the sky?
From out thine overflowing eyes brght lights of gladness part.
As though some gushing fount of joy had broken in thy heart.

Mother how canst thou smile today, how can thine eyes be bright?
When He, thy Life, the Love, thy All has vansished from thy sight?
The feet which thou hast kissed so oft, those living Feet are gone;
And now thou canst but stoop and kiss their print upon the stone.

Yes he hath left thee Mother dear, His Throne is far above;
How canst thou be so full of joy, when thou hast lost thy Love?
Ah no, thy Love is righful love from all self-seeking free
The change that is such gain to Him can be no loss to thee.

Tis sweet to feel Our Saviour's love to feel his Presence near
Yet loyal love His Glory holds a thousand times more dear
Oh never is our love so true as when refined by pain,
Or when God's glory upon earth
Finds in our loss its gain. Father Faber +1863 London

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