s included in the Roman Breviary.

SAINT BERNARD'S HYMN

Jesu! the very thought of thee
With sweetness fills my breast,
But sweeter far thy face to see
And in thy presence rest.

Nor voice can sing nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find,
A sweeter sound than thy blest name,
O Savior of mankind!

O hope of every contrite heart!
O joy of all the meek!
To those who fall, how kind thou art,
How good to those who seek!

But what to those who find? Ah, this
Nor tongue nor pen can show.
The love of Jesus, what it is
None but his loved ones know.

Jesu! our only joy be thou,
As thou our prize wilt be!
Jesu! be thou our glory now
And through eternity!

MONASTIC LUXURY

From the Apology to the Abbot William of St. Thierry

There is no conversation concerning the Scriptures, none concerning the
salvation of souls; but small-talk, laughter, and idle words fill the
air. At dinner the palate and ears are equally tickled--the one with
dainties, the other with gossip and news, which together quite prevent
all moderation in feeding. In the mean time dish after dish is set on
the table; and to make up for the small privation of meat, a double
supply is provided of well-grown fish. When you have eaten enough of the
first, if you taste the second course, you will seem to yourself hardly
to have touched the former: such is the art of the cooks, that after
four or five dishes have been devoured, the first does not seem to be in
the way of the last, nor does satiety invade the appetite.... Who could
say, to speak of nothing else, in how many forms eggs are cooked and
worked up? with what care they are turned in and out, made hard or soft,
or chopped fine; now fried, now roasted, now stuffed; now they are
served mixed with other things, now by themselves. Even the external
appearance of the dishes is such that the eye, as well as the taste, is
charmed....

Not only have we lost the spirit of the old monasteries, but even its
outward appearance. For this habit of ours, which of old was the sign of
humility, by the monks of our day is turned into a source of pride. We
can hardly find in a whole province wherewithal we condescend to be
clothed. The monk and the knight cut their garments, the one his cowl,
the other his cloak, from the same piece. No secular person, however
great, whether king o