Monthly Archives: August 2018

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Out of the Depths

“Then he wished to abstract himself and cling especially to the meaning of that sorrowful plaint, in which the fallen being calls upon its God with groans and lamentations. Those cries of the third verse came back to him, wherein calling on his Saviour in despair from the bottom of the abyss, man, now that he knows he is heard, hesitates ashamed, knowing not what to say. The excuses he has prepared appear to him vain, the arguments he has arranged seem to him of no effect, and he stammers forth; “If Thou, O Lord, shalt observe iniquities, Lord, who shall endure it?” –Huysmans, J.K. ‘En Route’

De Profundis
Psalm 130

Out of the depths I have cried to Thee O Lord! Lord, hear my voice. Let Thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplication.
If Thou, O Lord! wilt mark iniquities: Lord, who shall stand it? For with Thee there is mercy: and by reason of Thy law I have waited on Thee, O Lord!
My soul hath relied on His word: my soul hath hoped in the Lord. From the morning watch even until night:
let Israel hope in the Lord. For with the Lord there is mercy; and with Him plentiful Redemption. And He will redeem Israel from all his iniquities.
Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord! And let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace.

Amen.
V. Lord, hear my prayer.
R. And let my cry come unto Thee.

Bless, O my God! the repose I am about to take, that, renewing my strength, I may be better enabled to serve Thee. Pour down Thy blessings, O Lord! on my parents, relations, friends, and enemies. Protect the Pope, our Bishop, and all the Pastors of Thy holy Church. Assist the poor and the afflicted, and those who are now in their last agony. Look with an eye of pity on the suffering souls in purgatory, particularly N… N…; put an end to their torments, and lead them forth into everlasting joy.

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Fiction and thoughts

Mother, behold your sons who fought so long.
Weigh them not as one weighs a spirit,
But judge them as you would judge an outcast
Who steals his way home along forgotten paths.

Mother, behold your sons and their numberless ranks.
Judge them not by their misery alone.
May God place beside them a handful of earth
So lost to them, and that they loved so much.

Mother, behold your sons so lost to themselves.
Judge them not on a base intrique
But welcome them back like the Prodigal Son.
Let them return to outstretched arms.

French poet Charles Peguy quoted by Michel Houellebecq in his novel ‘Submission’

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