For St George's Day, I was celebrant for the Mass, assisted by Rev John Harrison (Deacon) and Fr Charles Briggs (Subdeacon).
It is always good to be able to use our magnificent red set which is a 19th century French High Mass set made in velvet with gold braid. the chasuble has needlepoint embroidery with a large Agnus Dei in the centre.
After Mass, we had Benediction. Three very keen young lads who are making their first Holy Communion on Saturday are not allowed to serve Mass until then but I have allowed them to be torchbearers for Benediction. They are looking forward to joining the team of servers at Mass next Sunday.
The statue of St George was fetched from the Parish Social Club to be venerated in the Church. Sadly, St George has lost his sword on account of some boys playing football indoors with one of those soft balls that don't damage anything... By the time of his feast day next year, he should be armed once again.
Actually next year, we are thinking of leaving the statue in the Club and going over there after Mass with a team of servers and incense to venerate the statue and sing the hymn in the Club. Here is the text of the hymn to St George which we sang last Thursday:
1. Leader now on earth no longer,
soldier of th’eternal king,
victor in the fight for heaven,
we thy loving praises sing.
Great Saint George,
our patron, help us,
in the conflict be thou nigh;
help us in that daily battle,
where each one must win or die.
2. Praise him who in deadly battle
never shrank from foeman’s sword,
proof against all earthly weapon,
gave his life for Christ the Lord.
3. Who, when earthly war was over,
fought, but not for earth’s renown;
fought, and won a nobler glory,
won the martyr’s purple crown.
4. Help us when temptation presses,
we have still our crown to win,
help us when our soul is weary
fighting with the powers of sin.
5. Clothe us in thy shining armour,
place thy good sword in our hand;
teach us how to wield it, fighting
onward towards the heavenly land.
6. Onward, till, our striving over,
on life’s battlefield we fall,
resting then, but ever ready,
waiting for the angel’s call.