Hymn of St. Charles Borromeo,

Founder of the "Oblates" of St. Charles.

O Father blest, and founder!
To thee our hearts we raise, 
Bare pattern of a lovely life,
Above all human praise.

A glory o'er thy cradle
The future Saint revealed,
Its little altars from the first
Thy childhood joyed to build.

Rome won in thee new honour,
Her cardinal renowned,
New life thy native Milanese
In thee thcir bishop found.

No longer in thy presence
Their stormy factions rage;
Before thy firmness sink subdued
The voices of an age.

In vain the leaden bullet
Against thy breast is sped;
Before thee, like a rock, His shield
Thy loving God has spread.

Amidst the plague thou shinest
An angel of the Lord;
And so, through all things conqueror,
Dost pass to thy reward.

Henceforward to the clergy
A rule and model sure;
Hope of the flock, light of the world,
And altar of the poor!

Oh! from thy glory hear us,
Who sigh, dear Saint, to thee,
And present with us ever still
In prayer and spirit be.

To th' Everlasting Father
Be rendered evermore
Praise, with the Son and Holy Ghost,
As in all time before!

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