The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1875-02-07


5 % ovel how red thy heart is,
And thy hands full of roses
For Thy sake answered he,
For thy thy sake s'e; is my heart so red,
gathered them at the cross
Whereon died for thee!
Thou Thou art iH, my my CELESTIAL 'tssi bride"
And the suitan's daughter
Followed him to his fathers garden
Golden Legend. by LonlfeHop
Throughout all the early church legends
we find whatever is pure and beautiful il
sentiment and exalted in art carefully
cherished, and constantly presented TO the
contemplation of the votary in some glow
lng form that could act as counterpoise
to the cOrruptipg influence of heather
passions and pursuits.
When the holy mother stood on Calvary,
her heart stepped in agony unutterable, not
the least cause of her anguish was to see
the waste of those precious drops of blood
as they believed the hard insensible
ground. But behold |! as she gazes, and
her tears fall, delicate bell-shaped crimson
blossoms spring mp, and absorb the human
dew; and thus, through these frail beauti-
fiers of suffering and CONSIDERS of grief.
the heart of the mother was comforted'
and the soul drawn to look upward, away
from the agonizing ignomy of the cross to
the beatified glory to which he is translated
at the price of SO much woe.
Thus also, in the horrid details of tie
early martyrdoms, we constantly meet
of the glory WOO. The painful agony of
the downward crucifxion of St. Peter.
the waste of blood from that congested
head, springs into q fountain of clear gurg-
ling water. from which flows healing for all
suffering flesh that seek its miraculous aid.
AS ST. Grata bears the decapitated head of
her friend st. Alexander to the tomb, 10 ! |
flowers spring up as the blood falls, and are
gathered by the mourners to deck his
grave.
Among the little band that followed |
Mother Seton more than fifty years ago, in |
her divine mission of self abnegation and
Christian love. was II delicate Young wo-
man whose life had been spent in ease.
amid the devoted love and admiration of q
large family circle. Dreamy and poetical
by nature, her talent, then rare among
American women, was revered and looked
up to by seven young brothers as some
thing marvellous and no implement more
algulng than the pen or needle was ever
allowed to weary her dainty fingers. One
lay as she sat amid her flowers and books,
coming new inspiration, suddenly the !
,pen door of heaven seemed to stand be-
ore her, and she felt voice saying, tsHe
Who would come after me must take up his ,
ross and follow me-" And believing that I
Ter heavenly spouse had called, she closed :
Ter books, and turned her face steadfastly Z
way from her weeping friends, and went
heerfully forth to privation and labor. I
faithful to her new vows, religion yet did r
ct forbid the exercise of the talent that God !,
ad given her only now her themes had o
ecome more exalted; and the love and
erennial sublimity of heaven took the
lace of the perishable and annual blooms 8;
time. The privatious and labors spent u
the service of suffering humanity soon II
'duced her delicate frame to patient help u
ssness; but the beauty and love of God 81
bis work and ways triumphed over all her ai
odlIy lnhrmities, and her strength was 81
ever too frail to raise sursun, corda in his o.
raise. Whitsuntide of 1913 rose in the light al
glorious May morning, after a night of al
hemorrhage, and she knew that Ia
70 angel, with palm in hand, stood by her Cn
de ready to conduct her to God. In
issful hope of the fruition that now ST
Iwned upon all those past sacrifices, to-
ID labors, and sufferings, she fell, to the fri
usic of those unseen, undulating wings, ma
to sweet sleep. Mother Seton who had So
It the sufferers bed for breath of the III
,sh morning air, just then returned from mr.
9 garden, bearing in her hand the first tn,
SO of the season, knowing how fresh and sal
ggestive such a gift would be to the ag
'ary sufferer. Rojoiced to find her in da
som, above the white, folded hands, and
iety left the room. The fitful fever thu
ep was soon ended, and as Mary opened a G
r eyes, fret the fragrance, then the va
auty of this heavenly symbol, caught of
r eye. Wasted and dying though the fea
'thly tenement was, the soul, the poets he,
IL, yet glowed with vital power and mr.
and paper, she thereon breathed her les
es ''NN0 - 'NeS' s Ia.
rhe morning was beautiful mild and serene, col
:, An nature had walked from reposoi on,
ana placed On my hosan \ rose. the