The Blessing Of Saint Blaise Poem by Michael Walker

Come one, come all, come young, come old,
From every field, from every fold,
To bear the blessing of the bold
For which no soul be bought, nor sold.

This is the Blessing of Saint Blaise
With candles crossed against the throat,
That to the end of all our days
We might speak nought but what God wrote:

For one true faith Blaise shed his blood
To heal us from the blight of sin
And save us from the mighty flood
That steals spirits from seraphim.

Thus, keep your candles always lit
Through matins, vespers, sext, and laud,
And in quiet vigil sit
With eyes forever fixed on God.