Repentant Tears Wash Out The Stain Of

In The Mass The Blood Of Christ Flows Anew For Sinners.

God Of Our Life, There Are Days When The Burdens We Carry Chafe Our Shoulders And Weigh Us Down; When The Road Seems Dreary And Endless, The Skies Gray And Threatening; When Our Lives Have No Music In Them, And Our Hearts Are Lonely, And Our Souls Have Lost Their Courage. Flood The Path With Light, Run Our Eyes To Where The Skies Are Full Of Promise; Tune Our Hearts To Brave Music; Give Us The Sense Of Comradeship With Heroes And Saints Of Every Age; And So Quicken Our Spirits That We May Be Able To Encourage The Souls Of All Who Journey With Us On The Road Of Life, To Your Honor And Glory.

Charity Is No Substitute For Justice Withheld.

That One Woman Is Both Mother And Virgin, Not In Spirit Only But Even In Body. In Spirit She Is Mother, Not Of Our Head, Who Is Our Savior Himself-of Whom All, Even She Herself, Are Rightly Called Children Of The Bridegroom-but Plainly She Is The Mother Of Us Who Are His Members, Because By Love She Has Cooperated So That The Faithful, Who Are The Members Of That Head, Might Be Born In The Church. In Body, Indeed, She Is The Mother Of That Very Head.

The Weakness Of Little Children's Limbs Is Innocent, Not Their Souls.