O Lord, open my lips.
And my mouth will proclaim your praise.
Invitatory
Psalm Psalm 23 (24)
Come, let us worship the Lord, the King of martyrs.
– Come, let us worship the Lord, the King of martyrs.
The Lord’s is the earth and its fullness,
the world and all who live in it.
He himself founded it upon the seas
and set it firm over the waters.
– Come, let us worship the Lord, the King of martyrs.
Who will climb the mountain of the Lord?
Who will stand in his holy place?
The one who is innocent of wrongdoing and pure of heart,
who has not given himself to vanities or sworn falsely.
He will receive the blessing of the Lord
and be justified by God his saviour.
This is the way of those who seek him,
seek the face of the God of Jacob.
– Come, let us worship the Lord, the King of martyrs.
Gates, raise your heads. Stand up, eternal doors,
and let the king of glory enter.
Who is the king of glory?
The Lord of might and power.
The Lord, strong in battle.
– Come, let us worship the Lord, the King of martyrs.
Gates, raise your heads. Stand up, eternal doors,
and let the king of glory enter.
Who is the king of glory?
The Lord of hosts
– he is the king of glory.
– Come, let us worship the Lord, the King of martyrs.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end.
Amen.
– Come, let us worship the Lord, the King of martyrs.
Hymn
Our limbs refreshed with slumber now,
And sloth cast off, in prayer we bow;
And while we sing thy praises dear,
O Father, be thou present here.
To thee our earliest morning song,
To thee our hearts’ full powers belong;
And thou, O Holy One prevent
Each following action and intent.
As shades at morning flee away,
And night before the star of day;
So each transgression of the night
Be purged by thee, celestial light!
Cut off, we pray Thee, each offence,
And every lust of thought and sense;
That by their lips who thee adore
Thou mayst be praised forevermore.
Grant this, O Father ever One
With Christ, thy sole-begotten Son,
And Holy Ghost, whom all adore,
Reigning and blest forevermore.
A prayer for relief from affliction
Psalm 6
Lord, save me in your merciful love.
Lord, do not condemn me in your fury:
do not destroy me in your anger.
Take pity on me, Lord, for I am sick;
heal me, Lord, for my bones are in disarray.
My spirit is deeply disturbed,
and you, Lord – how long?
Turn to me, Lord, rescue my spirit:
in your pity, save me.
If I die, how can I praise you?
Can anyone in the underworld proclaim your name?
I struggle and groan,
soak my bed with weeping night after night;
my eyes are troubled with sadness:
I grow older as my enemies watch.
Leave me, all who do evil,
for the Lord has heard my voice as I wept.
The Lord listened to my prayer,
granted me what I asked.
Let my enemies be ashamed and confounded:
let shame and confusion overtake them soon.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end.
Amen.
Lord, save me in your merciful love.
Psalm 9A (9)
Thanksgiving for victory
The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed in times of distress.
I will thank you, Lord, with all my heart;
I will tell of your wonders.
I will rejoice in you and triumph,
make music to your name, O Most High.
Because my enemies are in full retreat;
they stumble and perish at your presence.
For you have given judgement in my favour,
upheld my case,
taken your seat on the throne of judgement.
You have rebuked the nations,
condemned the wicked,
wiped out their name for ever and for ever.
My enemies are no more;
their land is a desert for ever.
You have demolished their cities,
their very memory is wiped away.
But the Lord will reign for ever:
he has made his throne his judgement-seat.
He himself will judge the whole world in justice,
judge the peoples impartially.
The Lord will be a refuge for the oppressed,
a refuge in good times and in bad.
Let them put their hope in you, those who know your name;
for you, Lord, have never abandoned those who seek you.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end.
Amen.
The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed in times of distress.
Psalm 9A (9)
I will recount all your praise at the gates of the city of Sion.
Sing to the Lord who dwells in Zion,
proclaim to the nations his loving care.
For he has remembered the poor and avenged them with blood:
he has not forgotten the cry of the weak.
Take pity on me, Lord:
see how my enemies torment me.
You raise me up from the gates of death,
and I will proclaim your praise at the gates of the daughter of Zion;
I will rejoice in your salvation.
The nations have fallen into the pit that they made,
into the very trap that they set: their feet are caught fast.
The Lord’s justice shines forth:
the sinner is trapped by his very own action.
Sinners will go down to the underworld,
and all nations that forget God.
For the weak will not always be forgotten:
the hope of the weak will never perish.
Rise up, Lord, let men not be complacent:
let the nations come before you to be judged.
Put fear into them, Lord:
let them know that they are only men.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end.
Amen.
I will recount all your praise at the gates of the city of Sion.
Give me understanding, and I will follow your law.
– I will keep it wholeheartedly.
Reading
Job 29:1-10,30:1,9-23
And Job continued his solemn discourse. He said:
Who will bring back to me the months that have gone,
and the days when God was my guardian,
when his lamp shone over my head,
and his light was my guide in the darkness?
Shall I ever see my autumn days again
when God hedged round my tent;
when Shaddai dwelt with me,
and my children were around me;
when my feet were plunged in cream,
and streams of oil poured from the rocks?
When I went out to the gate of the city,
when I took my seat in the square,
as soon as I appeared, the young men stepped aside,
while the older men rose to their feet.
Men of note interrupted their speeches,
and put their fingers on their lips;
The voices of rulers were silenced,
and their tongues stayed still in their mouths.
And now I am the laughing-stock
of my juniors, the young people,
whose fathers I did not consider fit
to put with the dogs that looked after my flock.
And these are the ones that now sing ballads about me,
and make me the talk of the town!
To them I am loathsome, they stand aloof from me,
do not scruple to spit in my face.
Because he has unbent my bow and chastened me
they cast the bridle from their mouth.
That brood of theirs rises to right of me,
stones are their weapons,
and they take threatening strides towards me.
They have cut me off from all escape,
there is no one to check their attack.
They move in, as though through a wide breach,
and I am crushed beneath the rubble.
Terrors turn to meet me,
my confidence is blown away as if by the wind;
my hope of safety passes like a cloud.
And now the life in me trickles away,
days of grief have gripped me.
At night-time, sickness saps my bones,
I am gnawed by wounds that never sleep.
With immense power it has caught me by the clothes,
clutching at the collar of my coat.
It has thrown me into the mud
where I am no better than dust and ashes.
I cry to you, and you give me no answer;
I stand before you, but you take no notice.
You have grown cruel in your dealings with me,
your hand lies on me, heavy and hostile.
You carry me up to ride the wind,
tossing me about in a tempest.
I know it is to death that you are taking me,
the common meeting place of all that lives.
Responsory
At night-time sickness saps my bones, I am gnawed by wounds that never sleep; it has thrown me into the mud, where I am no better than dust and ashes.
Leave me, Lord, for my days are but a breath; it has thrown me into the mud, where I am no better than dust and ashes.
Reading
From the story of the death of the holy martyrs of Carthage
Called and chosen for the glory of the Lord
The day of the martyrs’ victory dawned. They marched from their cells into the amphitheatre, as if into heaven, with cheerful looks and graceful bearing. If they trembled it was for joy and not for fear.
Perpetua was the first to be thrown down, and she fell prostrate. She got up and, seeing that Felicity was prostrate, went over and reached out her hand to her and lifted her up. Both stood up together. The hostility of the crowd was appeased, and they were ordered to the gate called Sanavivaria. There Perpetua was welcomed by a catechumen named Rusticus. Rousing herself as if from sleep (so deeply had she been in spiritual ecstasy), she began to look around. To everyone’s amazement she said: “When are we going to be led to the beast?” When she heard that it had already happened she did not at first believe it until she saw the marks of violence on her body and her clothing. Then she beckoned to her brother and the catechumen, and addressed them in these words: “Stand firm in faith, love one another and do not be tempted to do anything wrong because of our sufferings.”
Saturus, too, in another gate, encouraged the soldier Pudens, saying: “Here I am, and just as I thought and foretold I have not yet felt any wild beast. Now believe with your whole heart: I will go there and be killed by the leopard in one bite.” And right at the end of the games, when he was thrown to the leopard he was in fact covered with so much blood from one bite that the people cried out to him: “Washed and saved, washed and saved!” And so, giving evidence of a second baptism, he was clearly saved who had been washed in this manner.
Then Saturus said to the soldier Pudens: “Farewell, and remember your faith as well as me; do not let these things frighten you; let them rather strengthen you.” At the same time he asked for the little ring from Pudens’s finger. After soaking it in his wound he returned it to Pudens as a keepsake, leaving him a pledge and a remembrance of his blood. Half dead, he was thrown along with the others into the usual place of slaughter.
The people, however, had demanded that the martyrs be led to the middle of the amphitheatre. They wanted to see the sword thrust into the bodies of the victims, so that their eyes might share in the slaughter. Without being asked they went where the people wanted them to go; but first they kissed one another, to complete their witness with the customary kiss of peace.
The others stood motionless and received the deathblow in silence, especially Saturus, who had gone up first and was first to die; he was helping Perpetua. But Perpetua, that she might experience the pain more deeply, rejoiced over her broken body and guided the shaking hand of the inexperienced gladiator to her throat. Such a woman – one before whom the unclean spirit trembled – could not perhaps have been killed, had she herself not willed it.
Bravest and happiest martyrs! You were called and chosen for the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Responsory
Christ Jesus is at God’s right hand and pleads our cause. Then what can separate us from the love of Christ? Can affliction or hardship? Can persecution, hunger, nakedness, peril or the sword?
These are the trials through which we triumph, by the power of him who loved us. Then what can separate us from the love of Christ? Can affliction or hardship? Can persecution, hunger, nakedness, peril or the sword?
Let us pray.
With overwhelming love for you, Lord God, your martyrs Perpetua and Felicity defied the persecutor and overcame the pain of death.
Listen to their prayers and grant that we may love you daily more and more.
We make our prayer through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God for ever and ever.
Amen.
