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The Book of Praise.
My soul ! O copy every line
Of this original divine !
On Jesus' votaries you must tend ;
To wash their feet must condescend ;
You pleasure for sweet Jesus' sake
In humble charities must take.
With zeal wash your own spirit clean From all concupiscence terrene ; When wash'd in penitential dew,' Then your baptismal vow renew ; What Peter wish'd for, wash all o'er, And take great care to sin no more.
Wash'd in heart-purifying tear
You must at Jesus' feast appear,
With food immortal to be fed,
That you nor Hell nor Death may dread ;
Then sing an hymn of the like strain
Writh that above of the Lamb Slain.
God's love to all with zeal suggest; And from the flame in your own breast Fire other hearts, that they the Name Of Jesus' friends may humbly claim ; From God's love, love fraternal fire, In which all Jesus' friends conspire.
Your foes both pray for, and forgive ; And, when you ceasing are to live, Strong cries to Love Paternal send ; Into Love's hands your soul commend ; In Love's soft hands to bliss you'll fly, Taught by loved Jesus how to die.
Bishop Thomas Ken. [17 |
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