
In addition to being one of the public prayers of the Church and an important tool to study the Faith, the Liturgy of the Hours is a treasury of Christian poetry. The poems are collected in the fourth appendix of the Breviary. Here are a few selections:
De Profundis Out of my soul’s depths to thee my cries have sounded; Let thine ears my plaints receive, on just fear grounded. Lord, should’st thou weigh our faults, who’s not confounded? But with grace thou censur’st thine when they have erred, Therefore shall thy blessed name be loved and feared. E’en to thy throne my thoughts and eyes are reared. Thee alone my hopes attend, on thee relying; In thy sacred word I’ll trust, to thee fast flying, Long ere the watch shall break, the morn descrying. In the mercies of our God who live secured, May of full redemption rest in him assured, Their sin-sick souls by him shall be recured. - Thomas Campion A Hymn to God the Father Hear me, O God! A broken heart Is my best part: Use still thy rod That I may prove Therein, thy love. If thou hadst not Been stern to me, But left me free, I had forgot Myself and thee. For sin’s so sweet, As minds ill bent Rarely repent, Until they meet Their punishment. Who more can crave Than thou hast done: That gav’st a Son, To free a slave? First made of nought; With all since bought. Sin, Death, and Hell His glorious Name Quite overcame; Yet I rebel, And slight the same. But I’ll come in, Before my loss, Me farther toss, As sure to sin Under His Cross. - Ben Jonson To Keep a True Lent Is this a Fast, to keep The larder lean? And clean From fat of veals and sheep? Is it to quit the dish Of flesh, yet still To fill The platter high with fish? Is it to fast an hour, Or ragg’d to go, Or show A down-cast look and sour? No: ’tis a Fast to dole Thy sheaf of wheat And meat Unto the hungry soul. It is to fast from strife And old debate, And hate; To circumcise thy life. To show a heart grief-rent; To starve thy sin, Not bin; And that’s to keep thy Lent. - Robert Herrick Love Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning, If I lacked anything. ‘A guest,’ I answer’d, ‘worthy to be here’: Love said, ‘You shall be he.’ ‘I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear I cannot look on Thee.’ Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, ‘Who made the eyes but I?’ ‘Truth, Lord, but I have marr’d them; let my shame Go where it doth deserve.’ ‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘who bore the blame?’ ‘My dear, then I will serve.’ ‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste My meat.’ So I did sit and eat. - George Herbert