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Home›Traditions›Roman Catholic

Roman Catholic Illustrations

Reading scripture in unity with Sacred Tradition and the teaching authority of the Church.

Key question: “How does this passage illuminate and cohere with the deposit of faith handed down through Sacred Tradition?”

24,081 sermon illustrations through the Roman Catholic lens

Poetry

Adieu to a Soldier.

ADIEU, O soldier!

Universal

Walt Whitman

105 words

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Poetry

Confessions

What is he buzzing in my ears? "Now that I come to die, Do I view the world as a vale of tears?" Ah, reverend sir, not I!

Universal

Robert Browning

241 words

Poetry

The Lamb

Little Lamb, who made thee Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice?

Graves of Infants

Infant' graves are steps of angels, where Earth's brightest gems of innocence repose. God is their parent, and they need no tear; He takes them to His bosom from earth's woes, A bud their lifetime and a flower their close.

A Part of an Ode

to the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that noble pair, Sir Lucius Cary and Sir H.

A Christmas Carol, Sung to the King

What sweeter music can we bring, Than a Carol, for to sing The Birth of this our heavenly King? Awake the Voice! Awake the String! Heart, Ear, and Eye, and every thing Awake! the while the active Finger Runs division with the Singer.

Farewell to Malta

Adieu, ye joys of La Valette! Adieu, Sirocco, sun, and sweat! Adieu, thou palace rarely entered! Adieu, ye mansions where--I've ventured! Adieu, ye curséd streets of stairs! (How surely he who mounts them swears!) Adieu, ye merchants often failing! Adieu, thou mob for ever railing!

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

292 words

Poetry

Harp of the North, Farewell!

The hills grow dark, On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending. Resume thy wizard elm!

The Book of Thel. Part III

Then Thel astonish'd view'd the Worm upon its dewy bed. Art thou a Worm? image of weakness, art thou but a Worm? I see thee like an infant wrapped in the Lillys leaf; Ah weep not little voice, thou can'st...

Stanzas to Augusta

Though the day of my Destiny's over, And the star of my Fate hath declined, Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could find; Though thy Soul with my grief was acquainted, It shrunk not to...

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

358 words

Poetry

I Am

I AM: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes,...

By the Rivers of Babylon We Sat Down and Wept

We sate down and wept by the waters Of Babel, and thought of the day When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters, Made Salem's high places his prey; And Ye, oh her desolate daughters! Were scattered all weeping away.

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

130 words

Poetry

To Tirzah

Whate'er is born of mortal birth Must be consumed with the earth, To rise from generation free: Then what have I to do with thee?

The Little Girl Lost

In futurity I prophetic see That the earth from sleep (Grave the sentence deep) Shall arise, and seek for her Maker meek; And the desert wild Become a garden mild. In the southern clime, Where the summer's prime Never fades away, Lovely Lyca lay.

209. Song—M’Pherson’s Farewell

FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and strong, The wretch’s destinie! M’Pherson’s time will not be long On yonder gallows-tree. Chorus.—Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, Sae dauntingly gaed he; He play’d a spring, and danc’d it round, Below the gallows-tree. O, what is death but parting breath?

Sonnet 57: Being your slave what should I do but tend

Being your slave what should I do but tend, Upon the hours, and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend; Nor services to do, till you require.

Across the Sea Along the Shore

Across the sea, along the shore, In numbers more and ever more, From lonely hut and busy town, The valley through, the mountain down, What was it ye went out to see, Ye silly folk Galilee? The reed that in the wind doth shake?

In Drear-Nighted December

In drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot undo them With a sleety whistle through them;...

To Thomas Moore

OH you, who in all names can tickle the town, Anacreon, Tom Little, Tom Moore, or Tom Brown,-- For hang me if I know of which you may most brag, Your Quarto two-pounds, or your Two-penny Post Bag; But now...

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

130 words

Poetry

The Tower of Famine

Amid the desolation of a city, Which was the cradle, and is now the grave Of an extinguished people,--so that Pity Weeps o'er the shipwrecks of Oblivion's wave, There stands the Tower of Famine.

Night

The sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest, And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower In heaven's high bower, With silent delight, Sits and smiles on the night.

Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride

Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange?

Pensive on Her Dead Gazing, I Heard the Mother of All.

PENSIVE, on her dead gazing, I heard the Mother of All, Desperate, on the torn bodies, on the forms covering the battle-fields gazing; (As the last gun ceased—but the scent of the powder-smoke linger’d;) As she call’d to her earth...

To Mr Thomas Southern, on His Birthday, 1742.

Resign'd to live, prepared to die, With not one sin, but poetry, This day Tom's fair account has run (Without a blot) to eighty-one. Kind Boyle, before his poet lays A table, with a cloth of bays; And Ireland, mother...

Universal

Alexander Pope

109 words