… and Cast Into Hell Satan and all the Demons

… and Cast Into Hell Satan and all the Demons July 2, 2015
Photo Source: Flickr Creative Commons by Duncan Harris https://www.flickr.com/photos/duncanh1/
Photo Source: Flickr Creative Commons by Duncan Harris https://www.flickr.com/photos/duncanh1/
"I didn't state that very well, sorry. Nothing wrong with the link, I just couldn't ..."

The Fallout: How to Help Women ..."
"You don't remember Lyndon Johnson doing any such thing because he didn't do any such ..."

Dr Christine Ford in Hiding Because ..."
"I haven't had the opportunity to read the FBI investigation. I'm not in the habit ..."

The Fallout: How to Help Women ..."
"Was there something wrong with the link?"

The Fallout: How to Help Women ..."

Browse Our Archives

Follow Us!


TRENDING AT PATHEOS Catholic
What Are Your Thoughts?leave a comment

5 responses to “… and Cast Into Hell Satan and all the Demons”

  1. Very nice, although slightly unseasonal.

    Since we’re only a little way past the feast of St. John the Baptist, here’s something from Thomas Merton’s St. John Baptist:

    What did you learn on the wild mountain
    When hell came dancing on the noon-day rocks?

    “I learned my hands could hold
    Rivers of water
    And spend them like an everlasting treasure.
    I learned to see the waking desert
    Smiling to behold me with the springs her ransom,
    Open her clear eyes in a miracle of transformation,
    And the dry wilderness
    Suddenly dressed in meadows,
    All garlanded with an embroidery of flowering orchards
    Sang with a virgin’s voice,
    Descending to her wedding in these waters
    With the Prince of Life.
    All barrenness and death lie drowned
    Here in the fountains He has sanctified,
    And the deep harps of Jordan
    Play to the contrite world as sweet as heaven.”

    • Reminds me of The Quickening of St. John the Baptist, one of my favorite poems.

      Your joy is the vocation of Mother Church’s hidden children – 
      Those who by vow lie buried in the cloister or the hermitage; 
      The speechless Trappist, or the grey, granite Carthusian, 
      The quiet Carmelite, the barefoot Clare, Planted in the night of 
      contemplation, Sealed in the dark and waiting to be born.

      Night is our diocese and silence is our ministry 
      Poverty our charity and helplessness our tongue-tied 
      sermon. 
      Beyond the scope of sight or sound we dwell upon the air 
      Seeking the world’s gain in an unthinkable experience. 
      We are exiles in the far end of solitude, living as listeners 
      With hearts attending to the skies we cannot understand: 
      Waiting upon the first far drums of Christ the Conqueror, 
      Planted like sentinels upon the world’s frontier.

      http://campus.udayton.edu/mary/resources/poetry/merton02.html

  2. I would like to see the Prayer to St. Michael put back at the end of Mass, with the Last Gospel. We need them both.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.