Until Thy High Behest Is Done
by damianfeeney
Some things stay with you for ever. At Primary School we were taught hymns by rote – I don’t remember seeing anything written down – rather, they were taught to us, line by line, by Miss Flynn, during endless assemblies and Mass rehearsals. The one I remember most vividly is a Newman hymn, which we only ever sang on one day – the Commemoration of All Souls, on November 2nd.
Help, Lord, the souls which Thou hast made,
The souls to Thee so dear,
In prison for the debt unpaid,
Of sins committed here.
Those holy souls, they suffer on,
Resigned in heart and will,
Until Thy high behest is done,
And justice has its fill.
For daily falls, for pardon’d crime,
They joy to undergo,
The shadow of thy cross sublime,
The remnant of thy woe.
When I was six, I didn’t understand a word of it. But the words stayed with me, and ended up defining my feelings about this bittersweet day, when we stand before God, with those we love who have died on our hearts. Twice today I have been to a Requiem Mass. The first was for a friend of mine, Quentin, whose funeral took place at Blackfriars here in Oxford. Then, this evening, I celebrated a Requiem here at St Stephen’s House. The list of people for whom we prayed was considerable: among then Quentin, my Father whose 24th Anniversary of death is in a week’s time, and Fiona’s Father, who died last year. Some names provide connections: familiar surnames, reminding us that every person, every family in the community, stops, and thinks, and grieves. And, as Fr. Peter Anthony reminded us, the thing that binds us together, in this world and the next, is love. The edges of our memories are softened by the restrained beauty of the liturgy, and by the fervent hope we have in resurrection.
