TO SANT' ANTONIO DI PADOVA

They knew you as a Franciscan friar,

And your wise words lit in them a fire;

You preached to the fish when men wouldn’t hear,

They leaped from the water, filled with good cheer;

Then some envious men poisoned your cup,

They stared, aghast, when you drank it all up;

Before you heretics always cower,

Since through you God shows His mighty power;

When we really feel we have lost our mind,

Your passionate prayers help us Jesus find.

TO SANT' ANGELA DI FOLIGNO

Forty years in pursuit of 

Wealth and worldly respect,

Before you realized

It was all totally worthless;

But you made up for lost time

As the Wonder Counselor

Graciously removed the

Dead weight out of your life

So that you would be free,

Free to follow Him forever;

You generously gave away

Almost all you owned,

And Jesus sweetly filled you

With the fruit of the Spirit;

Like Augustine, too late

Did you know Him, but

Thanks to The Divine Mercy,

It’s never, ever too late

To finally find The Good,

To finally find The True,

To finally find The Beautiful:

God is love.

TO ST. CATHERINE OF SIENA

Inspired by the writing of this great saint

You stand atop a holy bridge,

A bridge that has several levels,

Like the historic Ponte Vecchio,

And the waves of the worldly waters

Are swarming with sea demons who

Obsessively seek souls to rip open

With their blade-like bloody teeth,

And their cold cadaverous claws,

To torture them in The Endless Death;

But some souls, through God’s grace, 

Cling to the edge of the first level

Of the bridge, dripping wet and

Shivering, terrified of going to hell,

So they clutch tightly to the bridge,

Fearing that they will fall back into

The turbulent black river of doom;

Other souls, through God’s strength, 

Climb up higher to the second level

Where they are safe from the evil

Threat below, in a place of serene

Consolation, where happiness can

Finally reign in their grateful hearts;

However, there are still others who,

Through your passionate prayers -- 

And surrender to the Holy Cross --

Climb to the top of the bridge, and

There -- yes, there! -- they are

Pierced by the overwhelming beauty

Of the magnificent heavenly realm,

Where Jesus’ peace surrounds them, 

Where Jesus’ joy enthralls them, 

Where Jesus’ love embraces them.

TO ST. THOMAS MORE

You were the Lord High Chancellor

  Under the infamous Henry the Eight,

At first you tasted the king’s friendship,

  But later on the sovereign’s hate;

You were a right honorable gentleman,

  With an intellectually sharp mind,

With courage you stood against the crown,

  For, sadly, it was spiritually blind;

So you were put in the Tower of London,

  A place that vile criminals dreaded,

You faithfully served the good God first,

  Thus, the monarch had you beheaded;

In this world, you bravely battled for truth,

  The people, you’d never mislead ‘em,

Now from Heaven you pray for us all,

  As the patron of religious freedom.

TO ST. TERESA OF AVILA

As a strong spiritual mother,

You reliably and respectably

Reform the Carmelite order,

And your holy friendship

With St. John of the Cross

Helps your soul spiral upwards

Towards the Heavenly Kingdom;

Then, you close your eyes and

Your spirit penetrates into the heart

Of the Interior Castle of prayer,

And there, during the dark night,

You discover the true Light.

TO SAN PADRE JUNIPERO SERRA

You’re the scapegoat saint,

Blamed for the evil of others;

Why do people seek to erase

You from history’s chalkboard?

Why do they desire to smash

Your honorable reputation?

Why do they wish to cancel out

Your love for Native Americans?

In this precarious culture war,

The Franciscan Way must lead:

Love must conquer all hatred,

Pardon must heal all injuries,

Faith must replace all doubt,

Hope must cast out all despair,

When Light scatters the darkness,

It is then that freedom rings.

TO ST. PHILIP NERI

Your happy heart desired to go abroad,

  On a mission to the exotic Far East;

Where you might convert lots of souls,

  And become a holy Jesuit priest.

But as a merry man with natural goodness,

  You were drawn by God to Rome;

You had no money and you had no plan,

  Yet the Eternal City became your home.

With Socratic discussions on street corners,

  You most pleasantly evangelized;

Yet you did it in such a fun-loving way,

  That the people never felt chastised.

One Pentecost something special happened --

  You felt the peace of The Dove;

When a globe of fire entered your mouth,

  You almost died of ecstatic love.

You inspired many in the confessional,

  So that the truth they understood,

And the people always heard you saying,

  “When shall we begin to do good?”

TO ST. MONICA

You agreed to marry Patricius the pagan,

  Humbly submitting to your parents’ will,

You were very kind and generous to him,

  Though he responded by treating you ill;

But about a year before leaving this world,

  He finally accepted the Nicene Creed,

Through your example of faith and love,

  His stubborn soul was finally freed.

However, you still had much work to do,

  For your son Augustine broke your heart,

He was a teacher who was very arrogant,

  And he strutted because he was smart;

But you vigorously persisted in prayer,

  Fasting with tears over his empty life,

When he met the great Bishop Ambrose,

  The Spirit pierced your son like a knife.

It was on Easter that the saintly Ambrose

  Joyfully baptised your prodigal son

Who went on to become a Church Father,

  And many victories over heretics won;

The end of your life was so very sweet

  As Augustine treated you like gold,

You’re the patroness of motherhood,

  And of your story many have been told.

TO ST. LOUIS DE MONTFORT

You are a man in love,    

oh so deeply in love    

with Our Lady,    

so with strength    

and with courage    

as a knight of Christ,    

you cavalierly show us    

the short way,    

the easy way,    

to the Queen of All Hearts;    

as we follow the illustrious example    

of John Paul the Great    

and mild Mother Teresa,    

you very confidently lead us        

to the Blessed Virgin        

so that she might    

graciously guide us to  

the Babe of Bethlehem;    

the jealous Jansenists,    

irked by your missionary success,        

perniciously plot against you,        

and you are banished --     

but the flames of divine love,        

like tongues of fire,        

sweetly sweep throughout France    

in the strong driving wind    

of the serene Spirit;

even now in the new millenium    

our lives continue to be    

refreshed and renewed    

by this burning blaze         

as we make our consecration        

to Jesus through Mary:     

totus tuus.

TO ST. BARTHOLOMEW THE APOSTLE

With smug sarcasm you doubted Philip:

  The Christ from Nazareth could not come;

To you it sounded like your friend’s

  Naivete was in reality pretty dumb.

But this Jesus said, smiling softly:

  That he had seen you under the fig tree;

Your spiritual eyes suddenly opened, and

  The true Messiah did you finally see.

You saw Lazarus lazily lurch forward,

  As he stepped out of his rocky grave;

This was one of many amazing miracles

  That in the end your soul did save.

Decades later, you screeched and screamed in pain

  As your sordid killers skinned you alive;

But now your bright eyes see Heavenly glory

   Where for eternity you very happily thrive.

TO ST. JOHN VIANNEY

As a soldier you were really quite inept,

  And as a student you weren’t much,

Although the seminary gave you a chance,

  It seemed holy orders you’d never touch;

But when the good God takes charge,

  There’s nothing that He cannot do,

So through the intercession of Philomena,

  Grace most bountifully fell on you.

Sent to a corrupt village named Ars,

  You woke it up with fiery preaching,

People were flabbergasted by your words

  And threatened by your priestly teaching;

Yet in the little box of the confessional,

  You won a victory over selfish hearts,

Though the devil anxiously pursued you,

   God extinguished all his flaming darts.

So many made pilgrimages to see you,

  And confession lines were terribly long,

But through God’s grace you read their souls,

  Bringing hope to many in the throng;

Thus the devil grew angrier and angrier,

  That’s why the beast ranted and raved,

Still you won over many many souls,

  In God’s mercy they were finally saved.

TO THE HOLY FAMILY

Good St. Joseph, you were sent

To be my wise knightly master,

So that through your assistance

I could reach Heaven faster.

Sweet and holy Queen, you are

So kindly patient and so humble,

The dark one terribly hates you,

For you make him trip and stumble.

Babe of the Incarnation, above you

Swirls the immaculate white Dove,

For now God enters His creation

To show the true depth of His Love.

TO ST. BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX

Good St. Bernard, you love

Our Lord and Our Lady so much:

You were a sincere confessor,

But in the confessional, 

You were too severe,

Far far too severe,

And so the Spirit taught you

Gentleness, sweet gentleness;

Maybe it was from you that

St. Francis de Sales learned,

For he so famously said that

We will catch more flies 

With a spoonful of honey

Than with a barrel full of vinegar.

ST. BERNADETTE OF LOURDES

Your magnificent story I will tell:

The wondrous Miracle of Massabielle;

Our Lady came in breathtaking beauty,

And she knew that you would do your duty;

You came before her as God’s little child,

And looking down on you, she warmly smiled;

She gently asked you to dig in the ground,

And there spring waters were suddenly found;

Cripples bathed in the stream with salty tears,

And walked away whole without any fears;

Then hardened hearts started to melt,

And before the good God they humbly knelt.

A PROFILE OF COURAGE

Eugenio Pacelli is consecrated a bishop,

  In Italy’s historic city of Rome,

But he is flung like a javelin into Germany,

  And Munich is now his home;

Egelhofer sends Commander Seiler

  On a mission filled with human hate,

The truth is Mr. E. thirsts for blood,

  And Pacelli he wishes to assassinate;

Commander Seiler and his gang selfishly strut

  To the bishop’s place of residence,

They’re planning a brash bold attack,

  Plotting his murder with confidence;

They threaten the servant with weapons,

  So she reluctantly lets them in,

Now they await the bishop’s return,

  Thinking victory they will win.

Seiler stands ready at the door,

  With his thugs in a semicircle around,

Armed with loaded guns and grenades,

  Their faces are rather frowned;

When the bishop opens the door,

  Seiler points a pistol at his pectoral cross,

Yet Pacelli fearlessly stands his ground,

  And shows him who is boss;

The holy bishop speaks as soft as an abbot,

  Or even a most prayerful friar,

But his courageous words rip into them,

  Like relentless machine gun fire;

The bishop’s eyes are two spear tips,

  That pierce right through their souls,

And in a daze they gape back at him,

  As motionless as telephone poles.

With empty hands the would-be assassins

  Return to Egelhofer the Extreme,

To his surprise, Pacelli still lives,

  And in the Munich diocese reigns supreme;

The bishop bravely swatted their plans,

  As if they were harmless flies,

Never before had they looked at a priest

  With such powerful paralyzing eyes;

During the Second World War,

  He saved countless lives from Nazi extermination,

And many Jewish people commended him,

  For his covert operation;

This lean, stately figure ran the Church,

  Though he never sought out fame,

He is better known as Pope Pius,

  The Twelfth who has held that name.

TO POPE BENEDICT XVI

As you bashfully smile,

you extend both arms

and wiggle your fingers:

your welcoming wave

is a gentle greeting to

the pilgrims at St. Peter’s.

A prudent theologian,

you write the most

eloquent of encyclicals;

as a classical pianist,

you wisely speak about

true beauty and true art.

In your own quiet way

you shepherd the flock,

for you’re a very holy man;

you’re an obedient son,

a simple man of Love,

a humble genius.

TO MY GUARDIAN ANGEL

Guardian Angel, please pray for us,

Because the devil tempts us to obsess,

We must evade the evil of worldly idols,

And not dream of what to possess;

Thirsting for things can thicken anxiety,

Which can seem to never cease,

We struggle and tuggle with all our might,

And banished is all our peace.

The diabolical dragon swoops down,

Determined all good to destroy,

With the flaming fire of enslaving greed,

He seeks to kill all devotion and joy;

But as our trustworthy guide from Heaven,

With love you sing a sweet prayer,

And your words rise like a happy dove

Higher and higher up into the air.

Your shining shield of protection

Guards us from the devil’s snare,

You deflect the dragon’s temptation,

And it evaporates into the air;

Gratitude is like a stream of living water,

Delightfully refreshing us during the day,

It brings joy to the heart and revives us,

While washing temptation away.

But when the evil one’s persuasive poison

Threatens to seep deep into our heart,

Teach us to think of the Lord Jesus crucified,

So that it pierces our soul like a dart;

When we dance with delight with temptation,

Help us the crucifix recall,

For the cross crushes the devil’s teeth,

And into hellish Styx he will fall.

Meditating on the gore of Golgotha,

Our hearts like tearful candles melt,

Knife-like nails puncture his palms,

And blood trickles to where Our Lady knelt;

Then our foolish obsessions are obliterated,

By the power of His holy love,

And we are magnificently made new,

By His grace flowing from above.

Trying to lure us into obsession,

The devil deceptively dangles his bait,

But seeing you push us out of harm’s way

Only fuels his mad fury and hate;

We escape the avalanche of avarice,

That crushes the soul like snow,

You lead us on a path filled with Light,

And our life in the Spirit does grow.

TO ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST

In humility you

   wear camel’s hair,

And your faith in God

   is extremely rare;

True repentance is

   your counsel for all,

Helping poor sinners

   to avoid a fall;

You detest the cruel

   world’s horrible lies,

For verily you are

   both strong and wise;

Then one day you see

   the holy white Dove,

And know that you

have finally found Love.

WORLDLY ANXIETY

Worldly

anxiety

chokes 

all joy,

and

strangles

all peace.

CHRIST THE COURAGEOUS

Philovanitas didn’t want a spiritual life

  Where she had to follow lots of rules,

For her the Church was run by men

  Who were really a bunch of old fools;

A free life where she could decide

  Was her idea of sensible fun,

So she steered her ship into enticing seas

  While soaking up some sun;

But the evil one launched a surprise attack

  And thunder she started to hear,

A tempest rushed in with frantic fingers

  And tried to strangle her with fear;

Like demonic fireworks, lightning exploded

  Fanatically all across the sky,

And murderous rain came down like daggers,

  So it was impossible for her to stay dry.

Philovanitas was trapped like a captive

  At sea in a savage Storm of Deception,

She spun her ship around in the wild, wicked

  Wind and lost all sense of direction;

She was engulfed by the tangled, twisted

  Waves of venomous and violent temptation,

And so she paid the ultimate price

  For her silly pursuit of sensation;

She stood aghast in terror as the breakers

  Blasted against her vessel,

And her formidable foe was far too strong

  For her to ever even attempt to wrestle;

She said, “Oh, dear Lord Jesus, please please

  Rescue me from this frightfully horrid place,

I’m sincerely sorry for my sins and want

  Nothing more but to see your sweet face!”

She turned around and before her stood

  One whose robe was most dazzlingly white,

On His head was a glistening gold crown,

  Set with gemstones radiant and bright;

With love He compassionately caressed her

  With his wonderfully warm brown eyes,

And his mild, merciful smile rescued

  Her heart and made her spirits arise;

Then He looked up, thrust His arms into the air

  And commanded the storm to be still,

The tempest immediately retreated

  And was obedient to His holy will;

Back fled the thunderclouds, back fled

  The lightning bolts, to the dark abyss of hell,

The sun now shone cheerfully, the sea now

  Splashed gleefully, and all was well.

At this the evil one foamed at the mouth

  Like the monstrous madman Othello,

He wanted revenge and he wanted it now

  So he vehemently started to bellow;

In a gruesomely gravelly voice he raged,

  “All hands on deck! Attack! Attack!”

And as the pirate demons sped by,

  He gave each one a menacing whack;

The pirate demons loaded up their weapons,

  For the spiritual blitzkrieg was on,

Time was of the essence, otherwise

  Their opportunity might be all gone;

They boarded their ghastly ghost ships

  Like a swarming plague of flies,

They fanatically followed their emperor,

  And he be the Father of Lies.

Soon the ghost galleons’ powerful armada

  Half-surrounded Philovanitas’ ship,

The evil one stood up like a hunchback

  And was ready to crackle his whip;

Impatiently pacing, back and forth,

  He was like a lion that was ready to devour,

But when he saw the handsome Holy One,

  His attitude really turned sour;

With a slobbering spit of hot yellow sulphur,

  The evil one gave his sign,

And the pirate demons loaded their weapons

  While drinking some stale wart-hog wine;

The great Battle for Philovanitas’ Soul

  Was almost ready to commence,

And for the angelic crowd in the clouds,

  There was certainly growing suspense.

The Father most kind and gentle humbly

  Sent down the sweet Spirit of love,

Carrying a sword from the celestial heights,

  The Spirit was shaped like a dove;

He shot down from Heaven like a sunbeam

  Through a sky that was stunningly blue,

And He delivered the sword to Jesus,

  The Lord who makes all things new;

With a hilt of gold and a blade of steel

  The sword was razor-sharp,

And when Christ the Courageous swung it round,

  It sounded like a melodious harp;

Swinging the Sword of the Spirit was

  Something for which Jesus had a knack,

So He turned around, got in the ready position,

  And waited for the enemy to attack.

With that the devil’s hateful, hellish heart

  Burned like Halley’s Comet,

So he gave the signal to attack

  And sulphurous lava he began to vomit;

The demon archers with cryptic crossbows

  Shot electric arrows into the air,

The arrows buzzed like a swarm of sparkling

  Bees as they targeted Philovanitas’ hair;

But Jesus exhibited tremendous athleticism

  And certainly He frustrated His foe,

With His sword He deflected the electroarrows

  And they fizzed into the sea below;

The devil saw that the arrows were useless

  And it was time to turn to flaming missiles,

These are the kind that blaze through the air

  With terrifying and eerie whistles.

Jesus then changed His grip on the holy sword

  As if He would stab Death in the heart,

Then He flung the sword like a spiraling spear

  And it gave the devil a start;

When the sword struck the sea, there was a

  Blinding flash and a deafening sonic boom,

For the evil one and his pirate demons

  This could certainly only spell doom;

A supersonic shock wave swiftly fanned out

  Like Saturn’s colorful rings,

It explosively ripped through the devil’s galleons

  By the power of the King of kings;

The devil and his pirate demons were blown right back

  Into their dark, infernal pit,

And because of where they were painfully injured,

  They found it very hard to sit.

Jesus saw that the splintered wood from the

  Galleons was strewn all over the sea,

Troublesome temptation had been driven out

  And Philovanitas was finally free;

Jesus turned around and saw her trembling

  Because she had such a terrible fright,

So He took His bride into His arms

  And then embraced her very, very tight;

Jesus said, “Henceforth you shall be ‘Philothea’

  For now you love God above all,

I shall always love you as a treasure

  And be with you whenever you call”;

Then He tenderly kissed her cheek

  And she felt the softness of His bearded curls,

Never had Philothea felt so special,

  Even more precious than the rarest of pearls.

He pierced her soul with truest love,

  And her heart brimmed with Heavenly light,

Thanks to Christ the Courageous,

  Philothea’s spiritual eyes regained their sight;

With a peaceful smile on His face,

  The Lord wiped away her happy tears,

Her heart was so full of contentment

  And banished were all her fears;

She learned that freedom’s not freedom

  Without love and responsibility,

And avoiding the near occasion of sin

  Involves a lot of spiritual agility;

In the brisk balmy breeze, Jesus’

  Flowing hair so very gently swirled,

He said, “Behold I am with you always,

  Even unto the end of the world.”