Psalm 103
Hymn to God the Creator
Bless the Lord, my soul!
Lord, my God, how great you are!
You are robed in majesty and splendour;
you are wrapped in light as in a cloak.
You stretch out the sky like an awning,
you build your palace upon the waters.
You make the clouds your chariot,
you walk upon the wings of the wind.
You make the breezes your messengers,
you make burning fire your minister.
You set the earth upon its foundation:
from age to age it will stand firm.
Deep oceans covered it like a garment,
and the waters stood high above the mountains;
but you rebuked them and they fled;
at the sound of your thunder they fled in terror.
They rise to the mountains or sink to the valleys,
to the places you have decreed for them.
You have given them a boundary they must not cross;
they will never come back to cover the earth.
You make springs arise to feed the streams,
that flow in the midst of the mountains.
All the beasts of the field will drink from them
and the wild asses will quench their thirst.
Above them will nest the birds of the sky,
from among the branches their voices will sound.
From your palace you water the mountains,
and thus you give plenty to the earth.
You bring forth grass for the cattle,
and plants for the service of man.
You bring forth bread from the land,
and wine to make man's heart rejoice.
Oil, to make the face shine;
and bread to make man's heart strong.
The trees of the Lord have all that they need,
and the cedars of Lebanon, that he planted.
Small birds will nest there,
and storks at the tops of the trees.
For wild goats there are the high mountains;
the crags are a refuge for the coneys.
He made the moon so that time could be measured;
the sun knows the hour of its setting.
You send shadows, and night falls:
then all the beasts of the woods come out,
lion cubs roaring for their prey,
asking God for their food.
When the sun rises they come back together
to lie in their lairs;
man goes out to his labour,
and works until evening.
How many are your works, O Lord!
You have made all things in your wisdom,
and the earth is full of your creatures.
The sea is broad and immense:
sea-creatures swim there, both small and large,
too many to count.
Ships sail across it;
Leviathan lives there, the monster;
you made him to play with.
All of them look to you
to give them their food when they need it.
You give it to them, and they gather;
you open your hand, they are filled with good things.
But turn away, and they are dismayed;
take away their breath, and they die,
once more they will turn into dust.
You will send forth your breath, they will come to life;
you will renew the face of the earth.
Glory be to the Lord, for ever;
let the Lord rejoice in his works.
He turns his gaze to the earth, and it trembles;
he touches the mountains, and they smoke.
I will sing to the Lord all my life;
as long as I exist, I will sing songs to God.
May my praises be pleasing to him;
truly I will delight in the Lord.
Let sinners perish from the earth,
let the wicked vanish from existence.
Bless the Lord, my soul!
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end.
Amen.
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September 12th - St. Eanswida of Folkestone, OSB Abbess (AC)
(also known as Eanswith(a), Eanswide, Eanswyth)
Died August 31, c. 640; this is probably a memorial of the translation of her
relics; feast day at Saint Augustine, Canterbury, and Durham is celebrated on
August 31.
From her infancy Saint Eanswida, the daughter of King Eadbald of Kent and
granddaughter of King Saint Ethelbert, found delight in prayer. Rejecting the
world and its foolish vanities, she refused all offers of marriage, which she
felt would interrupt her devotions and contemplation. King Eadbald finally
consented to allowing her to found a monastery on the coast near Folkestone,
Kent, where she served as its abbess and died at an early age. It seems likely
that she was trained in France and that hers was the first convent in England.
The monastery was destroyed by the Danes, but restored by King Athelstan, then
refounded in 1095 for the Black Benedictines. Part of it was swallowed up by the
sea, and so the community was moved to Folkestone. Her relics were translated to
the church built by Eadbald in honor of Saint Peter, but later known as Saints
Mary and Eanswida. In 1885, a Saxon coffer was found in the north wall
containing the bones of a young woman, which were assumed to be those of Saint
Eanswida (Benedictines, Farmer, Husenbeth).
In art, Saint Eanswida is portrayed as a crowned abbess with a book and two
fish. She is venerated at Folkestone (Roeder), where her image is incorporated
on its seals (Farmer).
Bible Quote:
Do not set your mind on high things, but condescend to the lowly. Rom. 12:16
.
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