I am happy to be able to share with you a collection of short verse composed by my dear friend, Jude Sebastian, who too attended this year's festivities. Topics include the suppression of prime, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and the Latin language. The last, 'The Shame of Them All
', was composed in five minutes on the tram tonight after a glorious Mass in honour of the Immaculate Conception of Our Blessed Mother. You see, a few of us decided to go and have a small ice-cream for the feast on Glenferrie Road, quite a popular strip. Anyway, being a Thursday night, we were confronted with every debauched profanity, vanity, and vulgarity. Look, I know that the Serpent hates Our Blessed Mother, but surely it realises by confronting us with such filth, Her glory is made that much more resplendent? That every soul we see in such a state just leads to more Ave
s being said for their sake? It must be the crushed head...! :)
Without further ado, here they are:
Ode to Prime
O Prime, where have you gone!
It seems almost like yesterday,
when I last recited you in the morn
as I prepared to go on my way.
When I had offered my sacrifice to God
I retired into my heart to give thanks
that laiden with the cross He trod
and now called me to His soldiers' ranks.
O what didst thou ever say or do
to merit such an unfortunate fate
to be given up to the winds that blew
within the Catholic Church of late.
O Prime, how wrong they were to efface
thy sweet chant of psalms so bright
which uttered in God's holy place
didst sanctify the morn and give us might,
That we might continue along the road
bearing witness in each and every deed
so that His Gospel message is sowed
and all who hear it may take heed.
O how I wish that you would return
that I might take you up once again
but alas I fear my hopes must burn
and I endure yet more grievous pain.
Another Ode - Ad Missam
It was only forty or so years ago to-day
the great Council held its mighty sway
declaring to us that the Mass should be
stripped off its roots in Christ and history
and in its place made a great celebration
adapted to the needs of each new nation.
Thus we have such a plethora of rites
more like a carnival with all its sights
filled with folk song and native dance
where guitars blare and virgins prance.
Yet what they clearly have forgotten
is that the Mass is by Christ begotten
as a sacrifice and sacrament to be
offered until the dawn of eternity
when He who is veiled from our sight
shall come with angels and great might.
And on the day when He does come
an account shall be asked of everyone
and those souls who've been celebrating
shall receive a just and sound berating,
while those who continued on the way
joining the Virgin and saints to pray
shall be admitted to His heavenly feast
where He presides as its Eternal Priest.
O why should we speak in a tongue never read,
a language of centurions and senators long dead
a language of clerics dressed in cloak and collar
a language of the old historical scholar
a language of conversion and much devastation
a language of sacrifice but not celebration
a language of grammarians who strive to excel
a language of books which just cannot sell?
I'll tell you why we should speak such a tongue
because it's the Church's, whose end has not come
it is the language of martyrs who have won their glory
it is the language of virgins and confessors most holy
it is the language of doctors and fathers most wise
it is the language of religious who early did rise
it is the language of bishops and popes of the past
it is the language of judgments that were made to last
it is the language which unites souls in every station
it is the language which goes beyond each nation
it is the language which conveys a sense of eternity
it is the language which belongs to our sacred paternity
So let us all hail this most beautiful speech
and place within every Catholic's reach.
O that Latin may once more take reign
in this wretched world where it was slain.
The Shame of Them All! (A five minute composition!)
I see them walk the streets and roads,
Young women dressed like poisonous toads.
With their short skirts and spaghetti straps,
They roam about looking to drain young saps,
Of every sense of what is good, beautiful, and true,
So they are defenseless against the perfumed dew,
Which they exude beneath their Clearasil skins,
Adorned with pagan charms and all sorts of rings.
O what an insult they do offer their God,
Who has redeemed and made holy their bod,
When will they learn to do just the contrary,
And imitate our Queen, the chaste Virgin Mary...
Copyright Jude S. Sebastian, 2005.