Contemplative Haven

To start the day’s celebrations, a prayer to St. Joseph, patron saint of Canada:

 
                                                  
Joseph, Guardian of the Pure in Heart

Gentle Joseph, God is captivated by the
quality of your heart. Your entire being is
focused on doing his will. With Mary and Jesus,
you answer the Holy Spirit’s call to build a better world.

With one heart, we join you in saying:
”Here we are, Lord, your will be done!
Your kingdom come nearer to us!”

Keep the hope of a new world alive in our hearts.
Inspire us to speak words of tenderness to awaken
the love of hearts.

May we draw the energy for our actions from the source
of all Love so our faces may shine with the freedom
of the children of God.

Amen

[This prayer was found on the website of St. Joseph's Oratory, Montreal, Quebec]

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And now a little something from our beloved Stephen Leacock…from the short story, The Marine Excursion of the Knights of Pythias, in Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town:      

You may talk as you will about the intoning choirs of your European cathedrals, but the sound of “O Can-a-da”, borne across the waters of a silent lake at evening is good enough for those of us who know Mariposa.

I think that it was just as they were singing like this: “O Can-a-da”, that word went round that the boat was sinking….

What? Hadn’t I explained about the depth of Lake Wissanotti? I had taken for granted that you knew; and in any case parts of it are deep enough, though I don’t suppose in this stretch of it from the big reed beds up to within a mile of the town wharf, you could find six feet of water in it if you tried….if a person arrives late anywhere and explains that the steamer sank, everybody understands the situation….

So you can imagine now that I’ve explained it a little straighter, the indignation of the people when they knew that the boat had uncorked and that they might be stuck out there on a shoal or a mud-bank half the night….

So pretty soon they had the davits swung out over the side and were lowering the old lifeboat from the top deck into the water.

There were men leaning out over the rail of the Mariposa Belle with lanterns that threw the light as they let her down, and the glare fell on the water and the reeds. But when they got the boat lowered, it looked such a frail, clumsy thing as one saw it from the rail above, that the cry was raised: “Women and children first!” For what was the sense, if it should turn out that the boat wouldn’t even hold women and children, of trying to jam a lot of heavy men into it?

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