Tag: the feast of the five holy wounds

Posted in FATHERS of the Church, The GOOD SHEPherd Prayers, The HOLY CROSS, The PASSION, The SEVEN PASSION Feasts, Thomas a Kempis

Quote/s of the Day – 13 March – The Feast of the Five Holy Wounds

Posted on by AnaStpaul

Quote/s of the Day – 13 March – The Feast of the Five Holy Wounds

“By the Cross, death was slain
and Adam was restored to life.
The Cross is the glory of all the Apostles,
the Crown of the Martyrs,
the Sanctification of the Saints.
By the Cross, we put on Christ
and cast aside our former self.
By the Cross we, the sheep of Christ,
have been gathered into one flock,
destined for the Sheepfold of Heaven.”

St Theodore the Studite (759-826)

“If you cannot soar up as high as Christ
sitting on His Throne,
behold Him hanging on His Cross.
Rest in Christ’s Passion
and live willingly in His Holy Wounds.
You will gain marvellous strength
and comfort in adversities.
You will not care that men despise you!”

Thomas à Kempis CRSA (1380-1471)

“Ah! what is all that I do and suffer,
compared with what my Jesus did
and suffered for my sake?
O, that I might, for His honour,
be torn with scourges and pierced with nails
and expire on the Cross for Him!”

St Andrew Avellino (1521–1608)

Posted in HYMNS, Our MORNING Offering, The SEVEN PASSION Feasts

Our Morning Offering – 13 March – Salvete Christi Vulnera – Hail, Holy Wounds of Jesus, Hail!

Posted on by AnaStpaul

Our Morning Offering – 13 March – The Feast of the Holy Five Wounds

Salvete Christi Vulnera
Hail, Holy Wounds of Jesus, Hail!
Anonymous Latin Hymn, 17th Century

Hail, holy Wounds of Jesus, hail,
Sweet pledges of the saving Rood,
Whence flow the streams that never fail,
The purple streams of His dear Blood.

Brighter than brightest stars ye show,
Than sweetest rose Thy scent more rare,
No Indian gem may match Thy glow,
No honeys’ taste with Thine compare.

Portals ye are to that dear home
Wherein our wearied souls may hide,
Whereto no angry foe can come,
The Heart of Jesus Crucified.

What countless stripes our Jesus bore,
All naked left in Pilate’s hall!
From His torn flesh flow red a shower
Did round His sacred person fall!

His beauteous brow, oh, shame and grief,
By the sharp Thorny Crown is riven;
Through Hands and Feet, without relief,
The cruel nails are rudely driven.

But when for our poor sakes He Died,
A willing Priest by love subdued,
The soldier’s Lance transfixed His side,
Forth flowed the Water and the Blood.

In full atonement of our guilt,
Careless of self, the Saviour trod
Even till His Heart’s best Blood was spilled
The wine-press of the wrath of God.

Come, bathe you in the healing flood,
All ye who mourn, by sin opprest;
Your only hope is Jesus’ Blood,
His Sacred Heart your only rest.

All praise to Him, the Eternal Son,
At God’s right hand enthroned above,
Whose Blood our full redemption won,
Whose Spirit seals the gift of love.

Office Hymn at Lauds on the Feast of the Most Precious Blood and for the Fridays of Lent.
Translated by – Henry Nutcombe Oxenham (1829-1888) for whom I find little information.