An iron hand has stilled the throats That throbbed with loud and rhythmic glee And dammed the flood of silver notes That drenched the world in melody. - Joyce Kilmer

The song within your heart could never rise Until love bade it spread its wings and soar.

David is the song upon God's lips, And Our Lady is the goblet that He sips: And 's the breath of His command, But Saint Michael is the sword in God's right hand. The is fair to see, And may her walls encompass me! But when the Devil comes with the thunder of his might, Saint Michael, show me how to fight!

Your eyes, that looked on glory, could discover The angry scar to which the world was blind: And it was grief that made Mankind your lover, And it was grief that made you love Mankind.