Dans le Sacré-Cœur

To Promote The Reign of Christ the King Through the Triumph of the Immaculate Heart of Mary

Little Antonio — June 13, 2020

Little Antonio


O prodigious Wonder-Worker,

Fernando de Bouillon,

Anthony of Padua,

Restorer of pots,

Repeller of demons!

The poor’s Caretaker that,

Received the grace of the smiles and embraces of the Virgin!

In the rose of holy youth,

Religion charmed thy heart,

And off thee went!

To the Order of holy Augustine,

For rest and repose.

Yet due to the news,

Of those brown-robed Martyrs,

Of holy Francis,

Zeal consumed thee,

And the Order of St. Francis,

Embraced Thy Martyr’s heart.

But it was not meant to be,

For the good God had foreseen,

Great works, great things,

From thee,

Done in His Holy Name:

Preaching to fishes,

The prostrated mule before the God-King Divine,

Healing the Penitent Amputee,

Bilocating in defense of thy earthly father…

And lastly the Embracing of the Holy Child Jesus the King…

And the finding of spiritual and temporal things…

On earth and in Heaven.

O dear sweet Anthony,

The little theological Franciscan,

If thou sees this poem,

Give it to those who need to find it!



Happy Feast of Saint Anthony of Padua!


St. Joan of Arc in Battle — December 22, 2015

St. Joan of Arc in Battle

(from JoanofArc.com: http://www.joanofarc.us/index.html)

Joan of Arc in Battle

Joan of Arc Outside of Orleans
Joan of Arc on a horse

Joan of Arc is known in two different senses around the world. She is the saint who heard the voice of God that told her she would lead the French to victory, and she is the young woman who led men across the battlefield with a leadership that few seemed to have matched in the following 550 years since her death.

Joan of Arc in battle and her leadership there have taken on near legendary status. Through the wars and warriors that were involved with Joan of Arc, she has become an icon of the terrible time known as the One Hundred Years War.  When Joan of Arc was in battle, she defied the cautious strategy that was well-known in the leadership of the French. During the siege of Orleans, there was only one attempted move on the castle, which ended horribly. However, when Joan of Arc came along, she attacked and captured the fortresses of Saint Loup and Saint Jean le Blanc. She continued to defy the war council and took fortress after fortress during the siege of Orleans.

Her legendary status as a leader was cemented when she took an arrow to the neck, but returned wounded to lead her troops in the final charge. For her troops, involved with wars and warriors, Joan of Arc was a true leader in battle. With that type of leadership, she was able to get near super-human results from her troops, which led to her victories.

After her victory at Orleans, there were many ideas for where to attack next, and the English assumed she would attempt an attack on Paris or Normandy. Naturally, she did not go the way everyone thought she would and she persuaded Charles VII to grant her co-command of the army to take over Reims. This was an unbelievable proposal because the city was deep in enemy territory and twice as far away as Paris. She would eventually take Reims and everything in between, making her a well-known force and making the English fear Joan of Arc in battle.

In battle, she wore men’s clothing and the armour of a knight when Joan of Arc was in battle. The reason for this was that she wanted to keep from being molested by male troops while camped in the field, thereby preserving her chastity. On top of that, she could command more respect from the men by dressing as one of them because they would be less likely to think of her as a ‘delicate’ woman or sex object as a result.

No matter what she wore, or how she cut her hair, Joan of Arc in battle made the names Joan of Arc and Hundred Years War intertwined. She was brave beyond that of most warriors in her army and she had the respect of all the men who served under her.  In fact, if you summed up Joan of Arc in battle into two words, they would be leadership and bravery. Not bad for a girl barely into her teens.

An Act of Oblation As A Victim of Divine Love by St. Therese of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face — November 15, 2015

An Act of Oblation As A Victim of Divine Love by St. Therese of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face

(from Christian Classics Ethereal Library: http://www.ccel.org/ccel/therese/autobio.xxix.i.html)

O my God, O Most Blessed Trinity, I desire to love Thee and to make Thee loved—to labour for the glory of Holy Church by saving souls here upon earth and by delivering those suffering in Purgatory. I desire to fulfill perfectly Thy Holy Will, and to reach the degree of glory Thou hast prepared for me in Thy Kingdom. In a word, I wish to be holy, but, knowing how helpless I am, I beseech Thee, my God, to be Thyself my holiness.

Since Thou hast loved me so much as to give me Thy Only-Begotten Son to be my Saviour and my Spouse, the infinite treasures of His merits are mine. Gladly do I offer them to Thee, and I beg of Thee to behold me only through the Eyes of Jesus, and in His Heart aflame with love. Moreover, I offer Thee all the merits of the Saints both of Heaven and of earth, together with their acts of love, and those of the holy Angels. Lastly, I offer Thee, O Blessed Trinity, the love and the merits of the Blessed Virgin, my dearest Mother—to her I commit this Oblation, praying her to present it to Thee.

During the days of His life on earth her Divine Son, my sweet Spouse, spake these words: “If you ask the Father anything in My Name, He will give it you.”275 Therefore I am certain Thou wilt fulfill my longing. O my God, I know that the more Thou wishest to bestow, the more Thou dost make us desire. In my heart I feel boundless desires, and I confidently beseech Thee to take possession of my soul. I cannot receive Thee in Holy Communion as often as I should wish; but, O Lord, art Thou not all-powerful? Abide in me as Thou dost in the Tabernacle—never abandon Thy Little Victim. I long to console Thee for ungrateful sinners, and I implore Thee to take from me all liberty to sin. If through weakness I should chance to fall, may a glance from Thine Eyes straightway cleanse my soul, and consume all my imperfections—as fire transforms all things into itself.

I thank Thee, O my God, for all the graces Thou hast granted me: especially for having purified me in the crucible of suffering. At the Day of Judgment I shall gaze on Thee with joy, as Thou bearest Thy sceptre of the Cross. And since Thou hast deigned to give me this precious Cross as my portion, I hope to be like unto Thee in Paradise and to behold the Sacred Wounds of Thy Passion shine on my glorified body.

After earth’s exile I trust to possess Thee in the Home of our Father; but I do not seek to lay up treasures in Heaven. I wish to labour for Thy Love alone—with the sole aim of pleasing Thee, of consoling Thy Sacred Heart, and of saving souls who will love Thee through eternity.

When comes the evening of life, I shall stand before Thee with empty hands, because I do not ask Thee, my God, to take account of my works. All our works of justice are blemished in Thine Eyes. I wish therefore to be robed with Thine own Justice, and to receive from Thy Love the everlasting gift of Thyself. I desire no other Throne, no other Crown but Thee, O my Beloved!

In Thy sight time is naught—”one day is a thousand years.”276 Thou canst in a single instant prepare me to appear before Thee.

* * * * * * *

In order that my life may be one Act of perfect Love, I offer myself as a Victim of Holocaust to Thy Merciful Love, imploring Thee to consume me unceasingly, and to allow the floods of infinite tenderness gathered up in Thee to overflow into my soul, that so I may become a very martyr of Thy Love, O my God! May this martyrdom, after having prepared me to appear in Thy Presence, free me from this life at the last, and may my soul take its flight—without delay—into the eternal embrace of Thy Merciful Love!

* * * * * * *

O my Beloved, I desire at every beat of my heart to renew this Oblation an infinite number of times, “till the shadows retire,”277 and everlastingly I can tell Thee my love face to face.


The ninth of June, Feast of the Most Blessed Trinity, In the year of grace, 1895.

The Angels of the Crib by St. Therese of The Child Jesus and of the Holy Face — October 23, 2015

The Angels of the Crib by St. Therese of The Child Jesus and of the Holy Face

(from Catholic First: http://catholicfirst.com/thefaith/catholicclassics/sttherese/poemsofsttherese06b.html#THE%20ANGELS%20OF%20THE%20CRIB)





Thou Word of God, Thou Glory of God!

In awe I gazed on Thee above;

And now I see that Glory of God,

That Word of God, made Man through love.

O Child, whose light doth blind the sight

Of angels in high heaven divine!

Thou’rt come to save the world tonight,

And who can fathom that love of Thine?

     In swaddling bands

The Child-God ties.

Lord of all lands!

Trembling before Thy face I veil mine eyes.

Yes, who can fathom this marvellous thing?

God makes Himself a little Child,

He, the eternal, almighty King,

Afar from His own heaven exiled!

Fain would I give Thee love for love!

Thee will I guard by day and night,

My utter fealty to prove,

    Thou tiny Jesu, Light of Light!

Thy cradle so dear

Draws angels anear.

O Child-God! now

Trembling before that humble crib I bow.

While earth has power from heaven to bring

My King to want and cold and woe,

Heaven holds no longer anything

To keep me from that world below.

My wings shall shield Thy Baby head;

Thee will I follow everywhere;

Beneath Thy tiny feet I’ll fling

The sweetest flowers and most fair.

Oh, would some radiant star might fall,

To form Thy cradle, Baby bright!

Would I the dazzling snow could call,

To be Thy curtains pure and white!

Would all the lofty hills might bow

In lowly homage at Thy feet!

Oh, would the fields might bloom for Thee,

Celestial blossoms heavenly sweet!

For all the flowers are smiles of God,

     Are distant echoes from His throne,

Are notes that wander far abroad

From that great harp He holds alone.

Those notes of harmony divine

Relate His goodness unto men,

And in their melody combine

To tell His saving love again.

O that sweet melody,

Exquisite harmony,

Silence of flowers

Ye tell His greatness, His wonders, His powers!

Well know I, Jesu! that Thy friends,

Thy dearest friends, are living flowers.

Thou travellest to earth’s farthest ends,

To cull them for heaven’s fadeless bowers.

Souls are the flowers with beauty rife

That draw Thee from the heavens high;

Thy tiny hand first gave them life,

And Thou for them wilt gladly die.

Mystery ineffable!

Thou, Word adorable,

Surely shalt one day weep

When Thou the harvest of those flowers shalt reap.


Yes, from the morning of Thy days, dear Child!

Thy blessed Face is bathed in burning tears.

Those tears upon that Face all undefiled

Still shall flow on throughout Thy earthly years.

O Face divine!

So fair Thou art

From angel eyes

      The glories of the skies depart.

Under its veil of anguish sore and dread,

I see Thy loveliness all charms above;

In Thy worn, pallid Face, O Jesu dead!

I see Thy Child face in its perfect love.

For pain to Thee, my Jesus! was so dear

That even Thy Baby eyes the future saw,

And Thou didst long to drink the chalice drear,

  Thy very dreams could Thee to Calvary draw.

O wonderful dream!

Thou Child of a day,

From Thy face but one beam

Thrills my heart with its ray.


Angel of man’s Redeemer! weep no more.

I come with comfort for sad hearts and sore.

This Child shall yet gain

All men’s hearts as their King;

He shall arise and reign

Almighty, triumphing.

O God! concealed in childish guise before us,

I see Thee glorious,

O’er all things victorious.

I shall roll back the great tomb’s rocky door,

I shall behold Thy lovely Face once more,

And I shall sing,

And I shall then rejoice,

When I shall see my King,

And hear again His voice.

Thy childish eyes, though dim tonight with tears,

Shall shine with heavenly light throughout the eternal years.

O Word of God!

Thy speech, like burning flame,

Shall sound one day abroad,

And all Thy love proclaim.


Gaze on, dear Angel, heavenward‑flown,

Gaze, while our King ascends on high;

But I, to seek His altar‑throne,

  Down to the distant earth will fly.

Veiled in His Eucharist I see

  The Almighty Lord, the Undefiled,

The Master of all things that be,

More tiny than the humblest child.

Here will I dwell in this blest place,

The sanctuary of my King;

And here, before His veiled Face,

  My hymns of ardent love will sing.

Here, to my heaven strung angel lyre,

My praise I’ll chant, by night, by day,

To Him, the Feast for saint’s desire,

To Him, the sinner’s Hope and Stay.

Would that by miracle, I too

Could feed upon this heavenly Bread;

Could taste that Blood forever new,

That Blood which was for all men shed!

At least, with some pure longing soul,

I’ll share my fires of love divine,

That so, all fearless, glad and whole,

It may approach its Lord and mine.


Soon shall the awful day of judgment come,

This wicked world shall feel the avenging flame;

All men shall hear pronounced their endless doom,

  And these to bliss shall pass, and those to shame.

Then shall we see our God in glory bright,

No longer hidden in this cradle small;

Then shall we sing His triumph after fight,

And then proclaim Him Lord and King of all.

As stars shine out when furious storms are passed,

   His eyes shall shine, now veiled in blood and tears;

And His eternal splendor shall at last

Appear again, after these anguished years.

Upon the clouds our Jesus shall be borne,

Beneath the standard of the cross on high;

And evil men who hailed Him once in scorn

Shall know their awful judge is drawing nigh.

Ah, ye shall tremble, habitants of earth!

Ah, ye shall tremble on that final day,

No longer able to withstand the wroth

Of this dear Child, the God of love to‑day.

For you He chose to tread the path of pain,

Seeking your hearts alone, to Him so dear:

But when at last He comes to earth again,

How shall ye quail before His Face in fear!

ALL THE ANGELS, with the exception of THE ANGEL


O Jesu, deign to hear the prayer,

That we, Thy Angels offer Thee!

Thy people save, Thy people spare,

Thou who didst come the world to free!

With Thy small hand avert this dart,

Appease this Angel with the sword;

Save every meek and contrite heart

That seeks Thy mercy, dearest Lord!


My faithful Angels, tried and true!

Far from the heavenland of your birth,

Hear, for the first time, speak to you

The Eternal Word made Man on earth!

I love you well, O spirits pure!

Angels from heaven’s high courts above!

Yet men I love with love as sure,

Yea, with an everlasting love.

I made their infinite desires,

Their souls were made at My decree;

A heart that kindles with My fires

Becomes a heaven on earth for Me.

The Angel of the Infant Jesus asks Him to gather upon earth an abundant harvest of inno­cent souls, before they have been tainted by the impure breath of sin.


Dear Angel of My childhood’s hours!

I grant the answer to thy prayer.

Many shall be the innocent flowers

I will preserve all lily fair.

Yes, I will cull those blossoms gay,

Fresh with their pure baptismal dew;

And they shall bloom in endless day,

In ecstasy forever new.

Their fair corollas, silvery bright,

More brilliant than a thousand fires,

Shall be the Milky Way of light

  ‘Mid all the starry heavenly choirs.

I must have lilies for My crown,

The Lily of the Field am I!

And I must have to grace my throne,

A sheaf of lilies in the sky.

The Angel of the Holy Face asks pardon for sinners.


Thou who dost gaze upon My Face

In ecstasy of seraph love,

Leaving for love of it thy place

Of glory in My heaven above!

Thy prayer I hear, I grant thy plea.

Each soul that on My name shall call

Shall find relief, shall be set free

From Sin’s dark curse, from Satan’s thrall.

Thou who dost seek to honor here

My Cross, My Passion, My bruised Face:

Learn now this mystery, angel dear!

Each soul that suffers shares thy grace.

The radiance of its pain borne now,

In heaven upon thy face shall shine;

The martyr’s halo decks thy brow,

His glory shall be drawn from thine.

The Angel of the Eucharist asks what he can do to console our Lord for the ingratitude of men.


Dear Angel of the Eucharist!

Thou, thou dost charm Me every hour;

Thy song, by heaven’s own breezes kissed,

Over My suffering soul hath power.

Ah, the great thirst of My desires!

  I crave, I crave, the hearts of men.

Dear Angel, melt them with thy fires,

And win them to My Heart again!

Would each anointed priest might be

Like Seraphim beyond the skies,

What time he comes to offer Me

My pure and holy Sacrifice

To work such miracle of grace,

It needs must be that night and day,

Souls near the attar seek a place

To watch and suffer, weep and pray.

The Angel of the Resurrection asks what will become of the poor exiled ones left on earth when the Saviour shall have ascended into heaven.


Back to My Father I shall go,

Thither to draw the men I love;

And heaven’s long bliss they then shall know,

When I shall welcome them above.

When the last hour of time appears,

My flock shall come again to Me;

And I shall be, for endless years,

Their Light, their Life, their Ecstasy


Goodness supreme and dost Thou then forget

  Sinners must meet at last, the doom decreed ?

Dost Thou forget, in Thy great love, that yet,

Their number is nigh infinite indeed ?

At the last judgment I shall punish crime,

Evil before My wrath shall shrink and bow;

My sword is ready Jesu! ’tis the time.

My sword is ready to avenge Thee now.


Great Angel, turn aside thy sword

I am the Messenger of Peace.

The nature taken by thy Lord

‘Tis not thy work to judge. O cease!

‘Tis I shall judge the human race,

Jesus My name, all names above.

I grant My elect ones boundless grace.

For men I died, and I am Love!

Dost thou not know that, every day,

The blasphemies of faithless lips

Before one love glance pass away,

And find therein assured eclipse?

The souls I choose, the souls I spare,

Shall reign in glory like the sun.

‘Tis Mine own life I give them there,

And they and I shall there be one.


Before Thee, Child divine, the Cherubim bow lowly,

Lost in amaze as they Thy love all boundless see.

Fain would we die like Thee, on Calvary’s summit holy,

Fain would we die like Thee!


Sung by all the Angels.

How great the bliss of man, Thy low and humble creature.

In ecstasy would fain each seraph undefiled

Put off, O Jesus sweet, his grand angelic nature,

Would fain become a child!

                                                                                                Noel, 1894

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