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              | 164. St. Philip Neri in hisMission
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              | {293} (A song.) |  
              | IN the far North our lot is cast,
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              | Where faithful hearts are few; |  
              | Still are we Philip's children dear, |  
              | And Peter's soldiers true. |  
              | Founder and Sire! to mighty Rome,
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              | Beneath St. Peter's shade, |  
              | Early thy vow of loyal love |  
              | And ministry was paid. |  
              | The solemn porch, and portal high,
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              | Of Peter was thy home; |  
              | The world's Apostle he, and thou |  
              | Apostle of his Rome. |  
              | And first in the old catacombs,
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              | In galleries long and deep, |  
              | Where martyr Popes had ruled the flock, |  
              | And slept their glorious sleep, {294} |  
              | There didst thou pass the nights in prayer,
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              | Until at length there came, |  
              | Down on thy breast, new lit for thee, |  
              | The Pentecostal flame;— |  
              | Then, in that heart-consuming love,
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              | Didst walk the city wide, |  
              | And lure the noble and the young |  
              | From Babel's pomp and pride; |  
              | And, gathering them within thy cell,
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              | Unveil the lustre bright, |  
              | And beauty of thy inner soul, |  
              | And gain them by the sight. |  
              | And thus to Rome, for Peter's faith
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              | Far known, thou didst impart |  
              | Thy lessons of the hidden life, |  
              | And discipline of heart. |  
              | And as the Apostle, on the hill
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              | Facing the Imperial Town, |  
              | First gazed upon his fair domain, |  
              | Then on the cross lay down, {295} |  
              | So thou, from out the streets of Rome
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              | Didst turn thy failing eye |  
              | Unto that mount of martyrdom, |  
              |     Take leave of it, and die.
                [Note] |  
              | The Oratory.
 1850.
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 NoteOn the day of his death, Philip, "at the
        beginningof his
        Mass, remained for some time looking
 fixedly at the hill
        of St. Onofrio, which was visible
 from the chapel, just as
        if he saw some great
 vision. On coming to the Gloria in Excelsis, he
 began to sing, which was a very unusual thing
 for him, and he sang the whole of it with the
 greatest joy
        and devotion," &c.—Bacci's Life.
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 Newman Reader  Works of John Henry NewmanCopyright © 2007 by The National Institute for Newman Studies. All rights reserved.
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