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Hymn of the Week – For the Beauty of the Earth

Poetry by Folliott S. Pierpoint
Music by Conrad Kocher

For the beauty of the earth,
For the beauty of the skies,
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies:
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This our sacrifice of praise.

For the beauty of each hour
Of the day and of the night,
Hill and vale, and tree, and flower,
Sun and moon, and stars of light:
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This our sacrifice of praise.

For the joy of human love,
Brother, sister, parent, child,
Friends on earth, and friends above,
For all gentle thoughts and mild:
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This our sacrifice of praise.

For Thy church that evermore
Lifteth holy hands above,
Offering up on every shore
Her pure sacrifice of love:
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This our sacrifice of praise.

Hymn of the Week – O the Things We May Do

Poetry by Lizzie DeArmond (1916)
Music by James M. Hagan (1916)

Have you lifted a stone from your brother’s way,
As he struggled along life’s road?
Have you lovingly touched some frail, toil-worn hand,
Shared with someone his heavy load?

O the things we may do, you and I, you and I;
O the love we can give if we try!
Just a word or a song as we’re passing along,
They will count in the great by and by.

Have you spoken a word full of hope and cheer?
Have you walked with a slower pace,
Till the weary of heart who were stumbling on,
Took new courage to run the race?

Have you held up your light through the shadows dark,
So that somebody else might see?
Have you lived with the Christ through the long, long day,
Gaining many a victory?

At St. Roque’s

From Ailenroc’s Book, by Cornelia Alexander. Note from the blogger: St. Roch’s chapel still exists in New Orleans, and greatly resembles the description given by Mrs. Alexander more than a century ago. Here is more information about the cemetery and chapel, and here is a collection of photographs from the place which I found very interesting.

“No visit to New Orleans is complete without a pilgrimage to St. Roque, and you must go there. I have some wishes to make, and will go with you.”

So said my friend, whom I will call “Nell.,” for short.

“Some wishes to make?” I repeated.

“Yes,” she said. “According to an old legend, one may get any wish granted by walking to St. Roque—never stopping on the way—saying a prayer, and making a wish.”

“How easy! And who, pray, might St. Roque be?” I asked.

“O, he was just a saint,” she said, lightly, “a very holy man. I don’t know much about him, but I do know that wishes are granted at St. Roque’s Church. I’ve tried it. I wished once for money, and got it.”

Nell. was not raised a Catholic, but has drifted that way from superstition and association.

Seeing that I was still unbelieving, she appealed to Miss Cecilia, a lovely Creole girl, a native of the city, and a pure and tender lamb of the Catholic fold. Read More