Saturday, April 18, 2015

I like weird things

Oh! Oh. My. Goodness! Do I ever want this book!

But, whoosh!! £80!! Yoiks!


Friday, April 17, 2015

How to avoid becoming a zombie

If you don't know who these guys are, you may already be a zombie

One of the problems with being raised by hippies and other adherents of the New Paradigm is that it often takes you years, and even decades longer than it used to take to figure out how to conduct your life. Or at least, to conduct it in a non-self-destructive manner. Then you have to decide to break the mould. Two brothers I knew in my teens, both raised by New Paradigm Boomers: one instinctively knew that following the peace-luv-groovy path would go nowhere, did engineering, works for an international computer software developer, got married bought a house and is now a noted freediver; the other carried on the family tradition, got busted for a grow-op and in his fifties still lives in a run-down shared rented house with a bunch of other dopeheads.

Years ago, while still dabbling in university and still not really knowing what I was supposed to be doing with myself, I asked a working journalist whether I should enrol in the J-school they had at my uni, or whether the better way was just to start writing things 'on-spec' and sending them off to magazines and whatnot. Knowing what I know now, I am amazed she was able to so politely contain her contempt and loathing for J-school and the hordes of whiney little glassy-eyed, brain-dead, marxist minions it routinely produced.

"Yes," she said with remarkable restraint, "start writing and submitting. You can learn as you go, but focus at first on learning how to construct a decent sentence in English, because that is the least-available skill in the business. No one in journalism school is ever taught to write."

So, I saw a notice on campus for a meeting of people interested in working on the campus newspaper, and off I went into my destiny. Meanwhile, I was taking courses in Latin, attending lectures on Dante and hanging around the Classics House, eating sardine sandwiches and conjugating and declining in my spare time. I can't help but think that I got a much better preparation for my work in that atmosphere than I could possibly have gained by attending the J-school's daily Two Minutes Hate sessions and readings from the Little Red Book.

So, now when people tell me about their plans for university, I ask them how long they want to wait before they flee the country to avoid their six-digit student loans...

Learn a trade. Pastry cheffing was pretty fun. And I know a guy with a PhD in mathematics who got out of uni, immediately enrolled in a 12-week community college course in industrial underwater welding, and started his working life making $80,000 a year. Another guy I know did an undergraduate in political science, learned that the world had been taken over by Gramsciite marxists so, upon failing to find a monastery to join, apprenticed himself to a stonemason and is now in France helping to restore castles and cathedrals.

The reality is that there are literally millions of people who work in skilled labor jobs, and they’re paid well, especially compared to college graduates. The average starting salary for a college graduate is $45,000, while the average salary of someone who went through trade school is $42,000. Not much of a difference, and the trade school graduate is entering the workforce at least two years sooner.

In addition, you’re almost guaranteed a job coming out of school. There are numerous stories of large energy and construction projects that had to be canceled not due to money shortages, but due to labor shortages. Companies simply can’t find the skills to complete the work needed.

Unless you're doing STEM, and often even then, university is designed to make you stupid, passive, compliant and a willing partner in your own culture's destruction.

In terms of my actual paying work, the best money I ever spent on formal education was 80 bucks for a typing course at the Y. 85 words a minute and counting.


Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Spring wild foods

So, I've been doing up loads of nice fresh nettles.

While collecting, I saw loads of these things,

It's Alliaria petiolata, or wild "garlic mustard" (sometimes Sisymbrium alliaria, "Hedge-Garlic," "Sauce-Alone," "Jack-by-the-Hedge," "Poor Man's Mustard," "Garlicwort," "Mustard Root"...) a plant that is another of these super-greens, chock full of vitamins C and A. Nice peppery slightly garlicky taste. Good cooked or fresh. The roots make an excellent horseradish.

It's also very common in North American fields too, brought over by settlers for whom it was a standard vegetable. They soon escaped the gardens and went wild.

Wiki says, "Garlic mustard is one of the oldest discovered spices to be used in cooking in Europe. Evidence of its use has been found from archeological remains found in the Baltic, dating back to 6100-5750...In 17th century Britain it was recommended as a flavouring for salt fish. It can also be made into a sauce for eating with roast lamb or salad."

It grows abundantly in the same kind of conditions as nettles, and so they are often side by side. They also look quite similar at first glance, with their heart shaped toothed leaves. But the flowers are totally different, and come out much earlier than nettle flowers. Nettles aren't as nice once they've started flowering and I would only collect them for drying at that point. But the garlic mustard is lovely even in the midst of its flowering time, which happens to be right now.

It was valued by Oldfangled people across Europe for medicinal applications. It has excellent antiseptic properties and can be applied to cuts to prevent infection. That garlicky flavor comes from sulfur, which is one of the best natural anti-microbials. But the sulphur is lost when it is heated, so the antiseptic properties can be gained only with cold-processing. Cooking makes the plant taste milder for that reason.

The Modern Herbal webpage says the juice of the leaves is a "deobstruent," which can be added to honey (though I think that would taste a bit strange) is useful for treating dropsy. Dropsy is a quaint term for oedema, which I started to experience rather badly last summer. It's a common long-term side effect of the surgery I had, having a bunch of lymph nodes removed. I'm constantly in search of things that will help, so maybe I'll try making a tincture or something.

Someone suggests:
The roots can be added to fire water or fire vinegar as it is often called. This is a simple and well used tincture where garlic, onions, grated ginger, horseradish, and hot peppers are covered with apple cider vinegar and let sit for several months. Adding garlic mustard root just gives it that much more of a kick. Take a couple tablespoons of this in 8 ounces of water at the first sign of a cold. It will either knock that cold right out or shorten it considerably. People use fire water for so many different ailments it warrants a post all its own.

Even a garlic mustard root/apple cider vinegar tincture on its own will help with bacterial and viral infections. A steam of the leaves and roots can help loosen chest and sinus infections as well as warm up people who have a chill from being out in the cold too long without the proper gear.

As a member of the Brassica family, it's related to broccoli, cabbage and sprouts, and is loaded with the same nutrient group you find in those. But as a wild plant, it is much more nutrient-dense.

Someone out there in Innernet Land suggested making a pesto out of the leaves. I might try it.


Is this the Faith you'll die for? - Grooving with the Dominican Greyhead Sisters of Swing

I just can't imagine why they don't get vocations... can you?


I'm working on a thing about how failing in my vocation led to becoming a Trad. There's bits about gardening in it for some reason I can't yet quite figure out.

Did I ever tell y'all about the time I almost wrote a book about women's religious life?


Sunday, April 12, 2015

St. Mary of Egypt

I discovered an awesome new saint: Mary of Egypt. She had quite the riotous early life in Alexandria in the fifth century. She left home at 12 because she didn't like her parents' restrictions, (which beats my story by 3 years!) She lived the kind of life that is now, frankly, considered more or less normal for young women. She slept around town, making a living not as a prostitute but by spinning flax and occasionally begging. So the sleeping around thing was mostly because she just wanted to and no one stopped her.

Then one day she decided to go with a group of others to Jerusalem, and it was mainly to find not God but more men to sleep with. At the moment that her group went into one of the churches, she found she could not follow. She sort of bounced off an invisible wall.

At that moment, she realised her wretched moral condition and fell to her knees on the church's porch and prayed to Our Lady, asking to be allowed to do penance for her sinful life, who said to her, "Go over the Jordan (river) and you will find endless rest."... Interesting eh? A life of penance described by the Queen of Heaven as "endless rest." Not what one usually thinks, right?

Well, it sounded pretty good to Mary, and off she went to live from that moment in a cave in the desert with no clothes on, no baths and no haircuts for 47 years.

I read this story and I think, how come I'm still keeping one foot in the world, eating bonbons and drinking wine? I got loads of sins to expiate. How come we don't do penance anymore? Ten Hail Marys? Srsly?

Where's my cave?

And could we find one that you can't get to without being lowered down in a basket?
That'd be good, thanks.


Saturday, April 11, 2015

Quid Petis?

Santa Scolastica,
ora pro nobis

Well, I did it. Honestly, I kind of went kicking and screaming. Or at least, sort of moaning and complaining and fretting. But I did it.

On Easter Tuesday, after Vespers, my friend Maria and I were received by the Monastery of San Benedetto as Oblates, after a year mainly spent being a slacker. I told Br. Oblate Master that I was a slacker, and presented credible evidence, but he kept just smiling and saying encouraging things like, "Oh, you can't wait to be perfect before you dive in and make a commitment. If I'd waited until I was ready, I'd still not be a monk," ... and stuff like that.

Even when we realised that in the last year we hadn't even really read the entire Rule... Well yes, bits of it, of course, but the whole thing? Ermmm... well... I meant to...I really did... Then when we got the little booklet of the ceremony, and read, "You have already sufficiently learned the rule under which you wish to serve, not only by reading but also by much practice during the time that has elapsed since becoming an Oblate novice..." I figured we would need to cram a bit.

Fortunately, our friend Julie - who is clearly much holier than either of us useless lay-abouts - read the entire thing to us out loud on Monday. It took more or less the whole day, but we got it all. We looked things up we didn't know, and everything.

I tried to convince them of my complete suckitude, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. I guess they'll just take pretty much anyone.

Anyway, it was Tuesday, and I had to go back to work that day, so I spent the morning after Mass working, and when I was done, Julie helped me reorganise all my book shelves, and then it was time to go to Vespers... I think the book-reorganising was a distraction on Julie's part to keep me from getting cold feet.

Off we went down the hill, and into destiny. Or something.


The ceremony was rather cool, and though I had hoped we could be down in the nice quiet crypt, it was upstairs in the Basilica and there happened to be a humungous whack of people there. Mainly priests, seminarians and religious who had come for the Triduum and were staying for retreats.

First there was a bunch of stuff in Latin, invoking the Holy Spirit and whatnot... I don't have translations...

And then,

Prior: "Quid Petis?"

Us: "Misericordiam Dei, et participationem Oblatorum Sancti Benedicti."

Then the bit about how well we've already been living the Rule, then...

Prior: "If then, you are ready and willing to observe the salutary teachigns of our holy father Benedict, according as your state in in life permits, and are resolve to persevere in your holy resolution, you may now make your Final Oblation.

Then one at a time we went through the promises and statement:

Prior: "Do you remonounce the vanities and pomps of the world?"

Us: "I do."

Prior: "Will you undertake the reformation of your life according to the spirit of the Rule of our holy father Benedict?"

Us: "I will."

Prior: "will you persevere in your holy resolution until death?"

Us: "With the help of God's grace, I will."

Prior: "Thanks be to God. Since God has given you the good will, and you trust in His help, you may now make your act of Final Oblation."

Then we each read aloud the charter we'd copied out by hand and which the monastery will keep in their archives for all eternity.

"In the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ, Amen.

I ____, of (your home town) ____, offer myself to Almighty God, to Mary Seat of wisdom, to your holy father Benedict, for the Monastery of San Benedetto in Norcia, and I do promise before God and all the Saints, the reformation of my life according to the spirit of the Rule of the same most holy father, Benedict, as an Oblate of this monastery.

In testimony of which, I have written this oblation chart with my own hand and now sign it, on this ____ day of _____, in the year of Our Lord, 2015.

Then there was a bit of Gregorian which we did rather badly, some nice liturgical concluding prayers, all in Latin, and a general "Amen."

All the monks came and gave us the Pax, and there was generally glowy feeling all 'round, many congratulations, and lots of grilled pork and beer after.

Of course, now the marriage starts, and the reality of it hasn't quite sunk in.

I haven't belonged to anything in anything approaching an ontological, familial way since I was 15. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do.

I suppose I'll figure it out. With the help of God's grace...


Dream home

I'll have this one.

It was built by Paulina Wojciechowska, a Polish architect living in the UK who gives workshops in natural building techniques in Poland.

She and her natural building buddies have a Natural Building foundation sort of thing in Britain, and also give workshops in Spain.

Straw Bale workshop near Gatwick airport, (believe it or not)

This workshop is a wonderful opportunity to gain hands-on experience of constructing and plastering a real straw bale building that will be used for visitor accommodation.

The straw bale workshop will be held in a lovely farm set in rolling english countryside 15 minutes drive from London Gatwick airport. Paulina has designed a dream home which will be built from natural materials at the workshop site of Oaklands Farm over the next two years.
What You Will Learn

Hands-on experience of all the stages in straw bale wall construction, and an introduction to the plastering of a real structure:

Straw Bale Workshop UK (5 days)

-Raising straw bale walls
-How to tie the straw bale walls together
-Making a wall plate and compressing a wall
-Installation of door and window frames
-Managing the use of bales to maintain wall strength
-Recognizing the clay found on our land and understanding how to use it for building
-Preparation and application of the first 2 coats of clay plaster onto the straw bale wall

And another "Planning your dream natural building home" that involves all the down-to-earth stuff like

Choosing your site
Preparation of a site plan
Dealing with the site’s characteristics such as earth types, ground topology, etc.
Creating a house design to suite your lifestyle
The balance of costs: money, time, quality.
How to find your balance point and cost your project in a realistic way
Working with architects, builders and volunteers
Fitting the project into your life.
A design example: the amazing 5 bedroom house being built at Oaklands Farm.

Technologies choices for the house structure:

Foundations: types of foundations, pros and cons, which to use in different site situations, relative costs and effort involved.
Roof structures: types of roofs, pros and cons, how to choose the best roof structure for your project, relative costs and effort involved.
Insulation: a discussion of different solutions and their relative effectiveness.
Walls: an overview of natural building wall technologies: straw bale, cordwood, earthbag, cobb, rammed earth, old tyres.
Floors: an overview of the different technologies, their pros and cons.
Guidelines for designing wall structures using different technologies
Balancing your idealogical ideas with your building inspector’s logical, legal ones.
Hands-on experience: building walls for the Oaklands Farm project from cordwood, earthbag and cobb.

An overview of planning and installing services, with an emphasis on specific considerations for houses built from natural materials:

Electrical systems
Plumbing systems
Heating systems.
Waste water drainage systems
Rainwater drainage systems
Internal shelving and structures.


I do rather wish that this whole thing weren't so inordinately tied up with silly hippie pseudo-spirituality... "Earthmother Dwelling: Listening to the elements, exploring inner freedom"..."earth mother"... Srsly?

"In my ‘Earthmother Dwelling’ that I built at Cal-Earth, these are some of the things that I aimed to achieve. The ‘Earthmother Dwelling’ was built in a close dialogue with the essence of the site. Listening to the elements, letting the earth tell me what it wanted to become. Being from the architectural icons of traditional cultures. Listening openly to my inner voices, letting them guide me to achieve coherence and happiness."

Um...Yeah, ok. Whatever.

But I don't suppose that you'll necessarily catch a case of Hippie-dum if you live in a straw bale house you've built yourself. And just imagine going to one of these workshops and being the only nice, friendly Trad Catholic these people ever meet. I find that with these kinds of hippies, they tend to be more innocent than mean about beliefs, and more open-minded than you might at first think. Sing the Divine Office in Latin and Gregorian three times a day in your off hours and see what they do. Might be an interesting experiment.

And it's pretty easy to get behind other aspects of the... err... philosophy (I suppose you could call it):

At the moment, my ideal house is one which lives in such harmony with its environment, a house that is difficult to notice, like an animal that blends into its surroundings. So many houses appear like warts on our landscape.

Though you wouldn't know it from all the (ahem) sharing I do online, I am actually pretty keen on that idea of Philip Neri's: "Amare nescire," to "Love to be unknown."


Thursday, April 09, 2015


Dropped off my two lovely friends from London at the early bus this morning and then went to Mass. Lovely story at Mass this morning; the meeting of the Risen Christ with Mary Magdalene at the tomb. She thought He was the gardener. I have always thought about His smile when He said, "Mary!"

Then, armed with wellies, a new pair of rubber kitchen gloves and the kitchen scissors, I went down to the Marcite and collected two more bags of nettles for the pot. On the way home up the country lane, spotted my first fox which just dashed out of the hedge right in front of me, and ran behind some of last year's hay bales.

It's been a weird week for weather. We woke to a winter wonderland of snow on Tuesday morning after a very wet Easter weekend. By the end of the day on Tuesday the snow in the valley and on the lower slopes was completely gone, but remains even now on the tops of the mountains. The sun came out for the rest of the week, but it's still been quite cold. My friend took a photo in the morning of a winter landscape, and another the same day of plum trees blossoming.

It was very chilly this morning, and I was bundled up like December on the way to Mass and after a sharp, cold wind was up, but by the time I had come back from my stomp, my coat and scarf were bundled up in the bike basket and I was unzipping my woolie cardie. My Mac says it's 13 now, but it feels like a lot more than that in the sun, and the high is supposed to be 18.

Almost all the seeds I started have begun sprouting, and if all goes well, we should have all sorts of lovely things coming up: menta, oregano, thyme, levanda, girasole, marjoram, salvia, rue, nasturtiums and calendula.

I went down to the garden centre to get some of Winnie's special food, and bought two books, one about "autosufficienza" that includes all sorts of exciting things about curing your own hams, drying fruit, smoking meat, making beer and wine and cheese, and canning, jamming, herbing and distilling; and another one all about "compostaggio".

Spring spring spring!!


The Fantasy of bitterness

A friend on Facebook wrote about a woman who is "bitter" at the disasters in the Church, and the evils it has created:

"A 61-year-old woman I've been corresponding with... has seen the faith of almost everyone in her life decimated by the post-conciliar Church. Her mother lost her faith after the changes (and I presume, is now deceased). She describes her own children as "godless". She is 'bitter and angry'.

"This is what the Church did. This is what men like Kasper and Maradiaga and Marx and the rest of them have done to His little ones. These are the stories that don't get told, because the people leave and are rarely heard from again. God forgive us for what -- and whom -- we have abandoned."

But, acknowledging the unimaginable losses the collapse of the Church has caused, there is something good to remember here. In the past people had the Faith handed to them, and it cost them little or nothing to accept and keep it. They were often given little instruction past that which is given to children. People followed the Faith because it was what their parents did, or because all their neighbourhood was Catholic or their friends or businesses were. I know nuns who said that the exodus from the convents really happened because they had been given no intellectual formation in the Faith either in their homes or schools or the novitiate. It was mainly about how to walk and hold your hands so you looked like a holy nun. She had been a Carmelite, and she said they were told they were not allowed to read Teresa, for fear it would give them airs.

The Asteroid wiped all that away, and the people who had received the Faith so easily dropped it just as easily. What you get for nothing is not valued, even if it is pearls.

And now the Faith is still there and can still be found, but it is no longer easy. The result of the post-Conciliar catastrophe has been as our friend above said, but it has also created a race of Catholic guerilla fighters of which we are the second and third generation, and who are now going to be called upon to carry the fight forward. The ferocity with which they have acquired and kept the Faith is going to be required by everyone.

There is no more cheap grace to be had for tuppence in all the shops. Now if you want to know what is true, you have to go looking for it, develop your mind and knowledge and exercise your intellect and will, which faculties had become nearly atrophied in the immediate pre-conciliar period. Now just getting to know what you need to know to be a merely practising Catholic requires almost heroic effort of will and powers of investigation, as well as taking the trouble to learn to tell the truth from the sweet lies nearly all the parishes and priests are peddling. Heroism has, essentially, become our baseline.

And then you have to exercise those muscles of will to hold on to it as the World turns on you like a horde of screaming savages. In a situation like this one, the people who know and hold to the Faith are the Charles Atlas of the Catholic world. And it is going to be true very soon that they are going to require all that strength to stand up to what is coming at us. Anger can be the fuel for much of the fire in the blood required to get this far, but indulging in bitterness is really just a means of avoiding the fight. "Bitterness" is really just a fancy word for sulking, and right now, if you are indulging it, you're sulking while everyone else is fighting a war. It's a variety of self-indulgence that we have no spare resources for.

It might not sound like I'm being sympathetic, but a great many of us have been forced to claw our way out of the Novusordoist fever swamps, and for a lot of us it has cost pretty dearly. I know someone who started asking awkward questions in her small working class town in eastern Canada, and eventually got to the point where she wanted to study at a small orthodox Catholic college. Her parents and family, all the friends she had grown up with, almost entirely disowned her when she came to the unavoidable conclusions.

She loves her family and her home town, but knows that there is no longer any place for her there and that she will probably have to spend the rest of her life living far away so she can receive the real sacraments. It was a horrible but ultimately heroic choice, and she made the right one, but it will never stop being hard.

One of the terrors of Traditionalism is that we learn at some point that the Faith makes a totally uncompromising demand. It is this choice that the happy-clappy Kasperian Church wants to hide and banish. But we are coming to a time in which heroism is going to be only the first rung, the bare minimum requirement to save our souls. Ours is a fearsome Faith, and the kind of choices my friend made are going to be forced on more and more of us. We can't expect everyone to make the right one.

We must get used to asking the question: "Which Faith are you willing to die for?" The religion of the Tango-Mass?

Or this one?

Our friend Ann Barnhardt offers a piece of advice that I think would be a good cure for a person's indulgence in bitterness:

"Our Lord Himself who has told many mystic saints and doctors of the Church the same thing: THINK AND PRAY ABOUT MY PASSION AND DEATH. Why? Because thinking about Our Lord’s torture, agony and excruciating death forces us to confront Him as a Person, True God AND True Man. Legal systems don’t sob until their capillaries burst. Philosophies don’t suffer the agony of unrequited love. Imaginary friends don’t lay down their lives. Bureaucracies don’t fight asphyxiation by pushing themselves up on their impaled feet.

Only a PERSON can do these things. Only a DIVINE PERSON did. And remember, He would go through His ENTIRE PASSION just for you alone, and He would go through it REPEATEDLY for you alone, in fact as many times as you assist at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and even more. That is how much He PERSONALLY loves you, PERSONALLY.

And yes, I lost my mother to the Novusordoist revolution and the Sexual Revolution that Novusordoism is now embracing. She entered the Church in 1972 in Remi de Roo's Victoria, BC. They taught her that God wanted her to embrace the entire delusion, including the new sexual paradigm. In the end, it destroyed her life, and finally as she pursued what these evil people taught her, she contracted HPV and died of cervical cancer, estranged from me and everyone else in her family, addicted to and entirely engulfed in the post-60s Fantasy, refusing to the last minute to involve herself in reality.

One of the delusions of "bitterness" is that you alone have the right to complain. It whispers to you that your personal suffering is worse than everyone else's and that it absolves you of responsibility. But the War has left very few without scars.

Bitterness is a Fantasy. A life dedicated to the Real has no room for it.


Sunday, April 05, 2015


Exsúltet iam angélica turba cælórum:
exsúltent divína mystéria:
et pro tanti Regis victória tuba ínsonet salutáris.

Gáudeat et tellus, tantis irradiáta fulgóribus:
et ætérni Regis splendóre illustráta,
tótius orbis se séntiat amisísse calíginem.

Lætétur et mater Ecclésia,
tanti lúminis adornáta fulgóribus:
et magnis populórum vócibus hæc aula resúltet.

[Quaprópter astántes vos, fratres caríssimi,
ad tam miram huius sancti lúminis claritátem,
una mecum, quæso,
Dei omnipoténtis misericórdiam invocáte.
Ut, qui me non meis méritis
intra Levitárum númerum dignátus est aggregáre,
lúminis sui claritátem infúndens,
cérei huius laudem implére perfíciat.]

[V/ Dóminus vobíscum.
R/ Et cum spíritu tuo.]
V/ Sursum corda.
R/ Habémus ad Dóminum.
V/ Grátias agámus Dómino Deo nostro.
R/ Dignum et iustum est.

Vere dignum et iustum est,
invisíbilem Deum Patrem omnipoténtem
Filiúmque eius unigénitum,
Dóminum nostrum Iesum Christum,
toto cordis ac mentis afféctu et vocis ministério personáre.

Qui pro nobis ætérno Patri Adæ débitum solvit,
et véteris piáculi cautiónem pio cruóre detérsit.

Hæc sunt enim festa paschália,
in quibus verus ille Agnus occíditur,
cuius sánguine postes fidélium consecrántur.

Hæc nox est,
in qua primum patres nostros, fílios Israel
edúctos de Ægypto,
Mare Rubrum sicco vestígio transíre fecísti.

Hæc ígitur nox est,
quæ peccatórum ténebras colúmnæ illuminatióne purgávit.

Hæc nox est,
quæ hódie per univérsum mundum in Christo credéntes,
a vítiis sæculi et calígine peccatórum segregátos,
reddit grátiæ, sóciat sanctitáti.

Hæc nox est,
in qua, destrúctis vínculis mortis,
Christus ab ínferis victor ascéndit.

Nihil enim nobis nasci prófuit,
nisi rédimi profuísset.
O mira circa nos tuæ pietátis dignátio!
O inæstimábilis diléctio caritátis:
ut servum redímeres, Fílium tradidísti!

O certe necessárium Adæ peccátum,
quod Christi morte delétum est!

O felix culpa,
quæ talem ac tantum méruit habére Redemptórem!

O vere beáta nox,
quæ sola méruit scire tempus et horam,
in qua Christus ab ínferis resurréxit!

Hæc nox est, de qua scriptum est:
Et nox sicut dies illuminábitur:
et nox illuminátio mea in delíciis meis.

Huius ígitur sanctificátio noctis fugat scélera, culpas lavat:
et reddit innocéntiam lapsis et mæstis lætítiam.
Fugat ódia, concórdiam parat et curvat impéria.

In huius ígitur noctis grátia, súscipe, sancte Pater,
laudis huius sacrifícium vespertínum,
quod tibi in hac cérei oblatióne solémni,
per ministrórum manus
de opéribus apum, sacrosáncta reddit Ecclésia.

Sed iam colúmnæ huius præcónia nóvimus,
quam in honórem Dei rútilans ignis accéndit.
Qui, lícet sit divísus in partes,
mutuáti tamen lúminis detrimenta non novit.

Alitur enim liquántibus ceris,
quas in substántiam pretiósæ huius lámpadis
apis mater edúxit.

O vere beáta nox,
in qua terrénis cæléstia, humánis divína iungúntur!

Orámus ergo te, Dómine,
ut céreus iste in honórem tui nóminis consecrátus,
ad noctis huius calíginem destruéndam,
indefíciens persevéret.
Et in odórem suavitátis accéptus,
supérnis lumináribus misceátur.

Flammas eius lúcifer matutínus invéniat:
ille, inquam, lúcifer, qui nescit occásum.
Christus Fílius tuus,
qui, regréssus ab ínferis, humáno géneri serénus illúxit,
et vivit et regnat in sæcula sæculórum.

R/ Amen.