{"id":4290,"date":"2012-12-15T09:01:00","date_gmt":"2012-12-15T09:01:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/2012\/12\/massacre-of-the-innocents\/"},"modified":"2015-12-27T22:47:29","modified_gmt":"2015-12-27T21:47:29","slug":"massacre-of-the-innocents","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/2012\/12\/massacre-of-the-innocents\/","title":{"rendered":"Massacre of the Innocents"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Guido_Reni_014.jpg\"<\/a>A Hellish Crime
\n<\/strong>The massacre of innocent children and of others ten days before Christmas, in my own home state of Connecticut, is evidence enough of the implacable hatred of the Evil One, the incorporeal Herod, who everywhere seeks and finds breaches in the souls of men, in families, and in society, into which he sends his infernal troops, full of contempt for human life, to plunder, ravage, and destroy. The devil, mocking the liturgical calendar of the Church, follows his own calendar of feasts of death and seasons of destruction.<\/p>\n

With the Mother of Sorrows
\n<\/strong>And so do we find ourselves, in these last days of Advent, faced with the most bitter irony of praying the Stabat Mater Dolorosa<\/em>. The Mother of God, and hundreds of thousands of mothers with her, never leave their station at the Cross, where the blood of an incalculable number of lambs is mingled with the tears of their hearts and with the Blood of the One Lamb that, alone, can wrest the world from the powers of darkness.<\/p>\n

Plunged in grief the mother stood<\/strong>,
\nWeeping where the crimsoned wood
\nHeld on high her dying son.<\/p>\n

Through her soul, whose mourning low,
\nTold how grievous was her woe,
\nSorrow like a sword had gone.<\/p>\n

Oh! how sad, how sorrow laden,
\nStood the meek and blessed maiden,
\nGod’s true mother undefiled.<\/p>\n

Trembling, weeping, whelmed in woes,
\nWitnessing the dying throes
\nOf her own immortal child.<\/p>\n

Who is he who would not weep,
\nCould he know what anguish deep,
\nPierced the mother of the Lord?<\/p>\n

Who from sorrow could refrain,
\nGazing on that mother’s pain,
\nWeeping with her son adored?<\/p>\n

She beheld the torments sore,
\nHe for his own people bore,
\nBowed beneath that scourging dread.<\/p>\n

She beheld her only-born,
\nDeath struck, utterly forlorn,
\nWhen his parting spirit fled.<\/p>\n

Come, O mother, love’s sweet spring,
\nLet me share thy sorrowing,
\nLet my tears unite with thine.<\/p>\n

Let my heart be all on fire,
\nStill to seek with fond desire
\nChrist, my God, my love divine.<\/p>\n

Holy mother, this impart,
\nDeeply print upon my heart,
\nAll the wounds my saviour bore.<\/p>\n

Let me share his pains with thee,
\nWho so tenderly for me
\nDeigned his sacred blood to pour.<\/p>\n

Let our tears in mingling tide
\nFlow for Jesus crucified,
\nTill life cease within my breast.<\/p>\n

By the cross to take my station,
\nSharing thy sweet lamentation,
\nThis is my most fond request.<\/p>\n

Holiest of the virgin train,
\nDo not thou my prayer disdain;
\nCome and share thy griefs with me.<\/p>\n

Let me trace his sufferings o’er;
\nBear the very death he bore,
\nWhen they nailed him to the tree.<\/p>\n

Tell his wounds within my heart,
\nIn his chalice take my part,
\nAll for love of thy dear Son.<\/p>\n

Wrapt in flames of love divine,
\nKeep me still, O mother mine,
\nWhen the judgement day draws on.<\/p>\n

Lord, when these my days are done,
\nLet thy mother lead me on
\nTo the palm of victory.<\/p>\n

When this mortal body dies,
\nMay my soul to heaven uprise,
\nGlorified and blest for thee. Amen.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A Hellish Crime The massacre of innocent children and of others ten days before Christmas, in my own home state of Connecticut, is evidence enough of the implacable hatred of the Evil One, the incorporeal Herod, who everywhere seeks and finds breaches in the souls of men, in families, and in society, into which he <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4290","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-personal-musings"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paVypq-17c","jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4290"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4290"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4290\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12262,"href":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4290\/revisions\/12262"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4290"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4290"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vultuschristi.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4290"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}