Sequence 67. St. Bartholomew

August 24TH.
COME, let us all with praises now
Bartholomew's rare merits show,
Whose sacred feast-day here below
Makes all our hearts with gladness glow.

He used an hundred times a day
Upon his bended knees to pray ;
Nor through the hours of night did he,
Laid prostrate, pray less frequently.

Wherever he was present here
The very devils dumb appear ;
When he, Christ's trumpet, soundeth clear,
False gods and idols quake for fear.

He would not Ashtaroth allow
With lies an hapless race to cow :
Nor cheat, nor hurt, them can he now,
Nor pity for his victims show.

He, worthy of grave punishment,
To \Tithe 'mid fires of hell is sent ;
Where by what torments he is rent
From Berith's tale is evident.

Through this Apostle's might alone
The devil's fraud is fully shown ;
And, when his cunning craft is known,
No followers more the idol own.

Pseustius exulted, when relieved
From demon's rage, held 'neath control :
And king Polymnius believed,
Because his daughter was made whole.

-o*
As 'neath the Apostle's stroke he lies,
The demon from the idol cries ;
" From you, my wretched votaries !

I ask no further sacrifice.
" Powerless I am, I now declare,
Who scarce can breathe in torture here :
Before the judgment-day appear,
The punishment by fire I bear ! "
He disappeared, as thus he spake.

And his own idol-image brake ;
But made none present fear nor quake :
The Cross was there his place to take.

With Christ's own mark, the Cross's sign,
An angel's fingers mark the fane.

And thence, through wondrous power divine,
The vexed free absolution gain.

White through baptismal grace we see
India, so dark-hued formerly ;
Without a spot, from wrinkle free,
Thus joined to heaven it joys to be.

Their high-priests to Astyages
Then hasten, and, upon their knees,
Demand that he at once will slay
The champion, victor in the fray.

To witness thus for Christ his Lord,
His head he bowed beneath the sword ;
So he this day, as victor, shone,
Who India taught and India won.

In constant prayer God's throne before,
For us, Bartholomew ! implore,
That we, when this life's course is o'er,
May sing Christ's praise for evermore ! Amen.

i86 S. AUGVSTINUS.