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Sexagesima Sunday

Let them praise the name of the Lord for His name alone is excellent; His glory is above the earth and heaven.

Psalm 148:13


Keine Schönheit hat die Welt

Angelus. 1657.

trans. by Catherine Winkworth, 1855

Nothing fair on earth I see

But I straightway think on Thee;

Thou art fairest in mine eyes,

Source in whom all beauty lies!

When the golden sun forth goes,

And the east before him glows,

Quickly turns this heart of mine

To Thy heavenly form divine.

On Thy light I think at morn,

With the earliest break of dawn;

Ah, what glories lie in Thee,

Light of all Eternity!

When I watch the moon arise

'Mid Heaven's thousand golden eyes,

Then I think, more glorious far

Is the Maker of yon star.


Or I cry in spring's sweet hours,

When the fields are gay with flowers,

As their varied hues I see,

What must their Creator be!

When along the brook I wander,

Or beside the fountain ponder,

Straight my thoughts take wing and mount

Up to Thee, the purest fount!

Sweetly sings the nightingale,

Sweet the flute's soft plaintive tale,

Sweeter than their richest tone,

Is the name of Mary's Son.

Sweetly all the air is stirred

When the Echo's call is heard;

But no sounds my heart rejoice

Like to my Beloved's voice.

Come then, fairest Lord, appear,

Come, let me behold Thee here,

I would see Thee face to face,

On Thy proper light would gaze.

Take away these veils that blind,

Jesus, all my soul and mind;

Henceforth ever let my heart

See Thee truly as Thou art!

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