Catholic Poetry

Catholic Poetry November 20, 2011

HYMN TO THE CHURCH.

WHO is she that stands triumphant,
A rock in strength upon the Rock,
Like some city crowned with turrets,
Braving storm and earthquake shock?

Who is she, her arms extending
In blessing o’er a world restored,
All the anthems of creation
Lifting to creation’s Lord?

Hers the kingdom, hers the sceptre!
Fall, ye nations, at her feet!
Hers that truth whose fruit is freedom;
Light her yoke, her burden sweet!

As the moon its splendor borrows
From a sun unseen all night,
So from Christ, the Sun of Justice,
Draws His Church her vestal light.

Touched by His, her hands have healing,
The Bread of Life, the absolving Key;
The Word Incarnate is her Bridegroom;
The Spirit hers; His Temple she.

Hers the kingdom, hers the sceptre!
Fall, ye nations, at her feet!
Hers that truth whose fruit is freedom:
Light her yoke, her burden sweet!

Empires rise and sink like billows;
Their place knoweth them no more;
Glorious as the star of morning
She o’erlooks their wild uproar.

Hers the household all-embracing;
Hers the vine that shadows earth;
Blest thy children, mighty mother!
Safe the stranger at thy hearth!

Hers the kingdom, hers the sceptre!
Fall, ye nations, at her feet!
Hers that truth whose fruit is freedom;
Light her yoke, her burden sweet!

Like her Bridegroom, heavenly, human,
Crowned and militant in one,
Chanting Nature’s great Assumption
And the abasement of the Son;

Her Magnificats, her dirges
Harmonize the jarring years.
Hands that fling to heaven the censer
“Wipe away the orphan’s tears.

Hers the kingdom, hers the sceptre!
Fall, ye nations, at her feet!
Hers that truth whose fruit is freedom;
Light’her yoke, her burden sweet!

The Young Catholic’s Illustrated Fifth Reader (New Edition) (New York: The Catholic Publication Society, 1882), 26-27.


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