Sabbato Sancto



Today is Holy Saturday, the last day of the Sacred Triduum. St Michael's Premonstratensian Abbey provides some chants for this day.

From the Easter Vigil, the canticles after the readings:

Cantemus Domino

Vinea facta est dilecto

Attende Cælum

Sicut Cervus

From St Benedict's Abbey in Brazil,

The Exultet

The vigil "preface" after the exultet, in three parts:

Beginning at "per omnia sæcula sæculorum"

Continuing at "Vere Dignum"

Continuing at "In hujus"

The final section, beginning at "Oramus ergo".


And finally a little verse that arrived in the mail the other day via a Catholic mail list. Someone commented to me that the theology was a little shaky. That may very well be. I don't see it myself but I am no theologian. And I rather liked it so you'll find herewith. If it turns out to be heretical, the bell, book and candle can be directed to my address.



"Limbo"

The ancient greyness shifted
Suddenly and thinned
Like mist upon the moors
Before a wind.
An old, old prophet lifted
A shining face and said:
"He will be coming soon.
The Son of God is dead;
He died this afternoon."


A murmurous excitement stirred all souls.
they wondered if they dreamed-
Save one old man who seemed
Not even to have heard.


And Moses standing,
Hushed them all to ask
If any had a welcome song prepared.
If not, would David take the task?
And if they cared
Could not the tree young children sing
The Benedicite, the canticle of praise
They made when God kept them from perishing
In the fiery blaze?


A breath of spring surprised them,
Stilling Moses' words.
No one could speak, remembering
The first fresh flowers,
The little singing birds.
Still others thought of fields new ploughed


Or apple trees
All blossom-boughed.
Or some, the way a dried bed fills
With water
Laughing down green hills.
The fisherfolk dreamed of the foam
On bright blue seas.
The one old man who had not stirred
Remembered home.


And there He was
Splendid as the morning sun and fair
As only God is fair.
And they, confused with joy,
Knelt to adore
Seeing that He wore
Five crimson stars
He never had before.


No canticle at all was sung.
None toned a psalm, or raising a greeting song,
A silent man alone
Of all that throng
Found tongue-
Not any other.
Close to His heart
When embrace was done,
Old Joseph said,
"How is your Mother,
How is your Mother, Son?"


-Sister Mary Ada
The Reign Of Mary -Vol. XXV, No 76