Little island of Lerins,
Familiar to France’s southern shore,
Washed in the warm waters
Of the Mediterranean mere,
Fragrant with the scent of cypress,
Pine, and eucalyptus trees,
For whom do you wait
In the stillness of expectation?
‘I await my master,
The one for whom I was made,
Honoratus the Roman.
With God’s help he will put away
Worship of the pagan gods, be reborn
In baptism, and travel to the East
As an initiate in the monastic life,
The greatest of philosophies.
‘Then he will land upon my coast
And build within the dense green forests
That holy city that will grace the West
With Christian monks and missionaries
Who will change her face forever.
He will die in Arles a bishop,
But his precious relics will be returned to me,
Bearing the blessing of an apostle.’
Little island of Lerins,
Splendid gem set within the sea,
Give generously of your deep
Spiritual riches to us
Wretched beggars in the world.
***
For an account of the life of St Honoratus (+429 A.D.), visit any of these sites:
https://celticsaints.org/2025/0116c.html
http://www.johnsanidopoulos.com/2018/01/saint-honoratus-archbishop-of-arles-and.html
***
Originally posted at identitydixie.com.
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Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!
Anathema to the Union!
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