Is busied with thy honor now by that sweet southern sea.
Oh! by the joy thou hadst in Rome, when every street and square
Burned with the fire of holy love that Philip kindled there,
And by that throbbing heart of his, which thou didst keep at Rome,
Let not the spoiler waste dear Father Philip’s Home!
Oh! by the dread basilicas, the pilgrim’s gates to heaven,
By all the shrines and relics God to Christian Rome hath given,
By the countless Ave Marias that have rung from out its towers,
By Peter’s threshold, Mother! save this pilgrim land of ours.
By all the words of peace and power that from S. Peter’s chair