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Hymns and Poems

Original and Translated: By Edward Caswall ... Second Edition

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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
XLIV. LINES ON A CEREMONIAL SANDAL OF HIS HOLINESS.
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIIII. 
 XLIX. 
 L. 
 LI. 
 LII. 
 LIII. 
 LIV. 
 LV. 
 LVI. 
 LVII. 
 LVIII. 
 LIX. 
 LX. 

XLIV. LINES ON A CEREMONIAL SANDAL OF HIS HOLINESS.

‘How beauteous on the hills the feet of him,
('Tis thus Isaias sings)
‘Who preaches heavenly peace, and brings to man
Glad tidings of good things!’
Christ first, his Vicar now, to us fulfils
This gracious work of God;
No land by seas or mountains so conceal'd,
But Peter there hath trod.

462

Hail, dearly-prized memorial, in late days
By our loved Pius worn!
Hail, emblem of the foot that walk'd the waves
In our redemption's morn!
Before this little cross embroider'd here
Princes have bended low;
And own'd the presence of a greater power
Than their proud world can show.
Here love hath left a kiss; here guilt hath been,
Nor dropp'd a tear in vain
At his dear feet who holds the potent Keys
That pardon or retain!
Here learning to the truthful Roman See
Hath grateful homage paid;
Here to religion's beauteous majesty
Beauty hath bow'd her head.
Oh by this sacred relic here I swear,
As all my life shall prove,
To him who sits in Peter's holy chair
True loyalty and love!