St. Joan of Arc, pray for us that we, like you, may receive the merciful gift of courage from Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, to learn and do His will. St. Joan, pray for us that we, like you, may remain pure and steadfast in the face of all the temptations that we must endure in everyday life. St. Joan, pray for us that we, like you, may never lose sight of God's will, though we are persecuted and castigated by the world. And, finally, St. Joan, shepherdess, liberator and martyr, pray that we, also like you, may never lose our humanity and sense of humor in pursing Our Lord's will. -- by Michael Fantina
O Saint Joan of Arc, in the face of your enemies,
in the face of harassment, ridicule and doubt, you held firm in your faith. In your
abandonment, alone without friends, and even as you faced your own mortality, you were
resolved in your love for God. I pray that I may be as bold as you in my beliefs with you
alongside helping me in my daily battles. Hold me firm in my faith and help me always to
act well and wisely. Amen. -- by Images of Heaven
Prayer of Thanks and Gratitude to St. Jehanne Darc
Dear Patron Saint,
For in her is a spirit
Wisdom 7: 22-30
Saint Thérèse was greatly devoted to Joan of Arc and was instrumental in promoting her process of canonization. As no one could refuse Saint Thérèse, her efforts paid off and Joan was eventually canonized in 1920.
CANTICLE TO OBTAIN THE CANONIZATION OF THE VENERABLE JOAN OF ARC
1 God of hosts, the whole Church
By Your power,
2 A conqueror for guilty France
3 Lord, Joan is Your splendid work,
4 In her humble meadow Joan heard
5 She won over the souls of proud warriors
6 By a prodigy unique in history,
7 It is not Joan's victories
8 By fighting, Joan saved France.
9 Sacrificing her life at the stake,
10 Joan, you are our only hope.
By the power
11 Chasing the English out of all France,
Take up the defense
12 Sweet martyr, our monasteries are yours.
To save souls
13 Fear will be banished from every heart
On January 27, 1894, Pope Leo XIII authorized the introduction of Joan of Arc's cause for beatification, at which time Joan received the title, "Venerable." From then on it was permitted to "honor her and pray to her publicly". A national assembly then proposed May 8th as a national holiday of patriotism to honor Joan of Arc.
A commission presided over by Henri Wallon soon drafted a bill in the National Assembly proposing that May 8th be celebrated annually as a national holiday of "patriotism" to honor Joan of Arc. The town of Lisieux especially felt the new fervor for Joan's cause because Pierre Cauchon, Joan's ultimate betrayer at her trial, was made bishop of Lisieux after Joan's burning. In effect, the town represented Joan's "blood money.
So on May 8th 1894, in the chapel where Thérèse attended a special celebration was held. Saint Thérèse wrote the previous poem in support of the Canonization of Joan of Arc.
The circumstances behind Thérèse's second poem are interesting as well as painful. For years an impostor, Leo Taxil, had contrived a imaginary person named "Diana Vaughon," and circulated a false story that she had converted from Satanism and Freemasonry to Catholicism.
Thérèse and the Carmelites of Lisieux, like most French Catholics, were completely taken in by this story. Thérèse was especially impressed that this conversion had taken place through the intercession of Joan of Arc.
Mother Agnes also asked Thérèse to write a poem for "Diana," but the inspiration would not come. Instead, Thérèse sent "Diana" a photograph. The previous year Thérèse had written a play entitled, JOAN OF ARC ACCOMPLISHING HER MISSION and this photograph was taken at that time. It shows Thérèse in costume portraying an imprisoned Joan in chains and her sister Céline as Saint Catherine who was comforting Joan. An enlargement of this photo was used as a backdrop at a well-orchestrated press conference in the heart of Paris, when Leo Taxil on the night of April 19, 1897, revealed to more than four hundred people that he himself was "Diana Vaughan."
He did this disgraceful farce to embarrass the Holy See because it was encouraging devotion to the real Joan. He portrayed "Diana" as "a new Joan of Arc" and used Joan's name and her mission to deceive French Catholics. A few days later the newspaper Le Normandy described how Taxil had chosen this photo to make fun of devotion to Joan of Arc. This betrayal of Joan wounded Thérèse too because it was her own photo of Joan as prisoner that had been jeered at that night.
In May of 1897, Thérèse felt the need to rediscover the mystery of Joan of Arc, as if to identify with Joan in the passion she herself was going through and wrote the poem entitled: TO JOAN OF ARC. At the time Thérèse was in great pain from and dying of tuberculosis.
Thérèse reported it was not in victory and glory that Joan was fulfilled, but in the "dungeon" and in "betrayal," where she identified with Jesus. Thérèse also felt she was "at the bottom of a black dungeon, laden with heavy chains" in her trial of faith. She was drinking "the bitter cup of the Beloved" in her illness. Thérèse was deeply humiliated at the very time she was struggling in her trial of faith and in her illness. She wrote this next poem in reflection and commiseration to the sufferings of Joan.
TO JOAN OF ARC
When the Lord God of hosts gave you the victory,
But that was only a fleeting glory.
At the bottom of a black dungeon, laden with heavy chains,
Joan, in your dark prison you seem to me
Ah! If the God of love in this valley of tears
The following are more poems written by Saint Thérèse of Lisieux which were included in a book of poetry published in 1907, entitled Poems of Sr. Teresa, Carmelite of Lisieux, known as the "Little Flower of Jesus."
I. THE SHEPHERDESS OF DOMREMY HEARKENING TO HER VOICES.
Happy, happy am I,
How light my little crook;
A lovely crown I weave
Oh, how I love the flowers,
The valleys and the rills
But hark! What voices come
I question air and space,
Ah, past those clouds that bar
ST. CATHERINE AND ST. MARGARET:
Thy pure sweet voice to heaven has pierced, dear child,
Thine angel guardian, ever undefiled,
Down from His heavenly palace we have flown,
For by our voices He to thee makes known
Thou must go forth to save thy fatherland,
Thou as a conqueror in His sight shall
(TO JEANNE, WHO WEEPS.)
Oh, dry thy tears, take comfort, tender
In our ecstatic chants thou shalt have
These sweet refrains thy soul shall fortify
Jeanne! thou must suffer. Seek, then,
from on high
For the pure soul, in time's long dreary night,
And, in heaven's endless day, with
Michael am I, the guardian of France,
Against hell's troops I march with sword
Once Satan far above the starry world
But, like a thunderbolt, at him I hurled
At that same moment vengeance, dread, divine,
For that proud fallen angel, ah! no
Pride tore down Satan from his lofty place,
But when man, too, had trifled with God's
The Eternal Word, the Father's Equal Son,
Back to His Father's heart the exiles won
Now that same Saviour deigns to succor France
He hath cast down the proud; He gives the
Jeanne! God has chosen thee His work to do.
Unto thy fields, thy flocks, must bid
Be strong, go forth and save thy
Go! in my might beside thee I shall stand.
Take thou this sword and bear it to the fray; –
Take for thy standard, child! this pure
white flag to-day;
For Thee alone, O God, I quit my father's
For Thee I leave my flocks, my valleys
green and wide,
Instead of my white lambs, I must lead
I shall not see, alas! these flowery
My voice, that mingles now with the soft
The piercing, frightful cries of battle
and of death,
Yet, I desire the cross; the sacrifice is
Now deign to call Thy child to this
Thou must depart, O Jeanne! the time has
Soon shalt thou see our blest, eternal
Thy name, O Jeanne! on heaven's scroll is
There shall thy brow with glory's crown be
ST MICHAEL, presenting the sword:
Before the victory must come the fight,
Win them where honor doth defend the
THE SAINTS TOGETHER:
Thee will we guard throughout the fray;
And splendid victories shall thy banner
Our hand the glorious aureole shall place.
With you, dear saints, no foe I fear;
What time the battle draweth near,
Oh, how I love my fatherland,
That love to sacrifice is fanned;
Ah, no! I fear not now to die,
Yet, as I go, oh ! hear my cry:
And thou, St. Michael, strengthen me.
Hark! for already all the elect in heaven
The illustrious name of Martyr gladly
I hear the universe declare,
The virtues of this maid in warlike armor
And grand and glorious title, Jeanne the Blest.
In those great days sore suff'ring France shall know,
Then shall thy glory, Jeanne, more
The voices mount towards the skies,
O Jeanne of Arc, now hear our cries!
All honor and all glory be
For Thou hast given the victory
And thou, dear Mother, pure as snow,
Oh, thou hast been my light below,
Thou, Queen, whose glories ne'er shall
When shall I rest beneath thy veil,
Hail, Mary! Holy Mother, hail!
My exiled spirit fain would fly
Naught here its needs can satisfy,
But, ere that sweet reward begin,
For Him unnumbered souls to win,
My exile here will pass away,
Then, up the radiant, sunlit way,
To see my God in endless day.
My voices this foretold: I am a prisoner here,
For love of Thee alone, I left my father
For Thee I left my home and her who gave
Lord, in Thy holy Name, I led an army
Behold my recompense – this gloomy prison-place,
No more my flowery fields my longing eyes
No more shall I behold the mountains far
And I shall hear no more the church-bells
Here, in this gloomy cell, the star I seek in vain,
In vain I seek the leaves, that when upon
Here, when at last I sleep after long bitter weeping,
But then my clanking chains disturb that
Lord, for Thy love I go, martyrdom to embrace;
Now but one wish is mine, – to see Thee
face to face,
To die for love of Thee, – what happier
lot than this?
Ah! how I long to die, and enter into
We have come down from heaven's eternal
See in our hands the immortal crown of
Come with us, virgin pure and fair!
Come unto joys beyond compare,
Come unto life most fair,
Hot bums the fire about thy tender frame,
Soon Christ will call thee to Him by thy
An angel comes to set thee free
Behold, the palm descends to thee!
Look up! thy Saviour see,
O virgin-martyr! one brief moment's pain
Thy death saves France. See! heaven opens
This poem was written by Sister Mary Therese, in response to her brother's death during the World War II naval battle at Corregidor.
GIVE JOAN A SWORD
The night is down on Domremy,
Shaking the young stars from her gown,
A blight is on the world again;
How can she keep her soul in calm,
How must her hands have ached to hold,
How must her lips have burned to cry,
Young Joan is restless in the sky;
To rout out the bitter pagan horde,
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