Quote/s of the Day – 4 March – The Memorial of St Casimir (1458-1484) Confessor, Prince
“I would rather die than not live as a virgin.
If I had a thousand lives,
I would sacrifice them all to remain a virgin.”
“But above all these things have charity,
which is the bond of perfection …”
“By the power of the Holy Ghost,
Casimir burned with a sincere
and unpretentious love for Almighty God
which was almost unbelievable in its strength.
So rich was his love
and so abundantly did it fill his heart
that it flowed out from his inner spirit
toward his fellow men.
As a result, nothing was more pleasant,
nothing more desirable for him,
than to share his belongings
and even to dedicate and give, his entire self,
to Christ’s poor, to strangers, to the sick,
to those in captivity and all who suffer.
To widows, orphans and the afflicted,
he was not only a guardian and patron
but a father, son and brother!”
From the Biography of Saint Casimir,
written by a contemporary.
St Casimir called the Blessed Virgin his dear mother and he loved her as a child. In her honour he sang frequently a touching Hymn which is in use even at the present day. It begins thus: “Daily, Daily Sing to Mary.”
He repeated this many times everyday and asked to have it placed in the grave with him.
When his grave was opened after 120 years, both his body and this written Hymn, were untainted by any sign of corruption.
Daily, Daily, Sing to Mary
By Bernard of Cluny (12th Century)
Trans. Fr Henry Bittleshon C.Orat. (1818-1886)
Daily, daily sing to Mary,
Sing, my soul, her praises due.
All her glorious actions cherish,
With the heart’s devotion true.
Lost in wond’ring contemplation,
Be her majesty confessed!
Call her Mother, call her Virgin,
Happy Mother, Virgin blest!
She is mighty to deliver,
Call her, trust her lovingly.
When the tempest rages round thee,
She will calm the troubled sea.
Gifts of Heaven she has given,
Noble Lady, to our race;
She, the Queen, who clothes her subjects,
With the Light of God’s own grace.
Sing, my tongue, the Virgin’s honours,
Who for us, her Maker bore,
For the curse of old inflicted,
Peace and blessings to restore.
Sing in songs of praise unending,
Sing the world’s majestic Queen;
Weary not nor faint in telling,
All the gifts that earth has seen.
All my senses, heart, affections,
Strive to sound her glory forth.
Spread abroad the sweet memorials
Of the Virgin’s priceless worth.
Where the voice of music thrilling,
Where the tongues of eloquence,
That can utter hymns befitting
All her matchless excellence?
All our joys do flow from Mary,
All then join her praise to sing.
Trembling, sing the Virgin Mother,
Mother of our Lord and King.
While we sing her awesome glory,
Far above our fancy’s reach,
Let our hearts be quick to offer
Love the heart alone can reach.
Bernard of Morlaix, or of Cluny, for he is equally well known by both titles, was an Englishman by extraction, both his parents being natives of this country. He was, however, born in France very early in the 12th Century, at Morlaix, Bretagne. Little or nothing is known of his life, beyond the fact that he entered the Abbey of Cluny, of which at that time Peter the Venerable, was the Abbot, who filled the post from 1122 to 1156. There, as far as we know, he spent his whole life and there he probably died, although the exact date of his death, as well as of his birth, is unrecorded.