Child, for thee thy Father burns!
"O Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, hear now the prayer ol the dead of Israel, and of their children, that have sinned before Thee, and remember not the iniquities of our fathers." - Baruch 3:4,5
We poor children who have been struck, through the author of our days, by death, has not the voice of all terrestrial passions deafened us to such an extent that we have never heard this sweetly accusing voice break upon the silence of niglit murmuring these words: "Child, dost thou remember thy father? When thou camest into the world, he loaded thee with caresses. His heart beat lovingly when he pressed thee in his arms. Under the warmth of his love didst thou thrive; when in danger he protected thee; he initiated thee into life. Amonogst all those voices which groan so plaintively, dost thou not distinguish one whose accents speak more eloquently to thy heart? Dost thou not hear thy father's blood cry, 'For thee, my child, I watched, worked, and labored; for thee I imposed on myself all sorts of privations and sacrifices. I was ambitious, it is true; but only to acquire a richer inheritance and to form a better position for thee. I was all to thee, and thou wert all to me. When I was obliged to leave thee, I obeyed the voice of God, sorrowful, but confiding in the love with which my last moments were surrounded; however, it has passed away with time. Thou hast placed over my remains a magnificent monument on which these words are engraven: "Here lies ---. He was a good father." Leave it unfinished; this simple phrase accuses thee. If I was a good father, why art thou an ungrateful child? I suffer cruelly in this fire of trial; hast thou then no tears left to extinguish it? It was not a thought of pride I desired over my grave; this gorgeous monument oppresses me. In its place an alms; in its place a prayer. Ah! my child, never forget that it is greatly on thy account I burn here. A hand, a hand, my child, and I am saved! Thou didst wish to keep me with thee on earth; and yet, in prolonging my life, what wouldst thou have done? Only rendered longer my exile. But to-day, in coming to my aid, see, thou snatchest me from this burning abyss, givest me heaven, God, and a happy eternity! Come, then, O my child; come with thy prayer, come with thy good works, come with thy devotion. Cherished life of my life, for thee have I waited long, and thou comest not! What has become of thy heart, of thy tenderness? And that blood which united us in life, and that love which united us in happiness, do they no longer speak of thee?"
Saint Louis Bertrand's Father.
We learn from revelations that souls have been condemned to the flames of Purgatory for one hundred years, five hundred years, and some even to the day of Judgment.
Saint Louis Bertrand assures us that his father's soul was detained there for eight years, notwithstanding his being a man of God, honored even by extraordinary favors, such as several apparitions and conversations with saints; on the other hand, his son was one of the great saints of these latter ages, who, seeing his father suffer in a manner capable of moving the most insensible hearts, left nothing undone for his relief. During these years he had recited a vast number of Rosaries and Psalters, fasted with excessive rigor, taken the discipline every day, offered the holy Sacrifice of the Mass; and this Saint, to whom God so readily granted all that he asked, could not obtain the deliver- ance of the soul of his father, who had been a person of eminent virtue, till after the expiration of eight years. O abyss! incomprehensible are the judgments of God. Always is it true that nothing defiled can enter heaven.
Practice
Remind your family of the members who have been carried off by death; exhort them to aid their souls, while pointing out the means.
Prayer of the Church
O God! Who hast commanded us to honor our father, I humbly implore Thee for the soul of my father which has been taken from this world. Deliver him not, O Lord, into the hands of the enemy; but deign to order Thy holy angels to meet him and bring him into the city of the heavenly Jerusalem. Grant that I may yet be reunited to this cherished father in eternal beatitude.
In these sentiments, and for this intention, I add the following indulgenced prayer:
Blessed be God!
Blessed be His holy Name!
Blessed be Jesus Christ, true God and true man!
Blessed be the Name of Jesus!
Blessed be Jesus in the Most Holy Sacrament of the altar!
Blessed be the great Mother of God, Mary most holy!
Blessed be her holy and Immaculate Conception!
Blessed be the name of Mary, Virgin and Mother!
Blessed be God in His angels and in His Saints!
- text taken from Month of the Dead by Father Celestin Cloquet, translated by a Sister of Mercy, with the Imprimatur of Archbishop Michael Augustine Corrigan, Archdiocese of New York, 18 October 1886