Fr. Abram J. Ryan

Proud Dixie Catholic
Philosophy and Law student at Wofford College
Dixie First Paleoconservative, Deo Vindice🍂

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

The Sword of Robert E. Lee
By Father Abram J. Ryan

Forth from its scabbard, pure and bright,
Flashed the sword of Lee!
Far in the front of the deadly fight,
High o’er the brave, in the cause of right,
Its stainless sheen, like a beacon light,
Led us to victory.

Out of its scabbard, where full long
It slumbered peacefully—
Roused from its rest by the battle-song,
Shielding the feeble, smiting the strong,
Guarding the right, and avenging the wrong—
Gleamed the sword of Lee!

Forth from its scabbard, high in air,
Beneath Virginia’s sky,
And they who saw it gleaming there,
And knew who bore it, knelt to swear
That where that sword led they would dare
To follow and to die.

Out of its scabbard! Never hand
Waved sword from stain as free,
Nor purer sword led braver band,
Nor braver bled for a brighter land,
Nor brighter land had a cause as grand,
Nor cause a chief like Lee!

Forth from its scabbard! All in vain!
Forth flashed the sword of Lee!
’Tis shrouded now in its sheath again,
It sleeps the sleep of our noble slain,
Defeated, yet without a stain,
Proudly and peacefully.

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

THE PRAYER OF THE SOUTH

My brow is bent beneath a heavy rod!
My face is wan and white with many woes,
But I will lift my poor chained hands to God,
And for my children pray, and for my foes.
Beside the graves where thousands lowly lie
I kneel, and weeping for each slaughtered son,
I turn my gaze to my own sunny sky,
And pray, oh! Father, Let Thy will be done!

My heart is filled with anguish, deep and vast;
My hopes are buried with my children’s dust;
My joys have fled, my tears are flowing fast—
In whom, save Thee, our Father, shall I trust?
Ah! I forgot Thee, Father, long and oft,
When I was happy, rich, and proud, and free;
But conquered now, and crushed, I look aloft,
And sorrow leads me, Father, back to Thee.

Amid the wrecks that mark the foeman’s path
I kneel, and wailing o’er my glories gone,
I still each thought of hate, each throb of wrath,
And whisper, Father, let Thy will be done!
Pity me, Father of the Desolate!
Alas! my burdens are so hard to bear;
Look down in mercy on my wretched fate,
And keep me, guard me, with Thy loving care.

Pity me, Father, for His holy sake,
Whose broken heart bled at the feet of grief,
That hearts of earth, wherever they shall break,
Might go to His and find a sure relief.
Ah, me, how dark! Is this a brief eclipse?
Or is it night with no morrow’s sun?
Oh! Father! Father! with my pale, sad lips,
And sadder heart, I pray, Thy will be done.

My homes are joyless, and a million mourn
Where many met in joys forever flown;
Whose hearts were light, are burdened now and torn;
Where many smiled, but one is left to moan.
And, ah! the widow’s wails, the orphan’s cries,
Are morning hymn and vesper chant to me;
And groans of men and sounds of women’s sighs
Commingle, Father, with my prayer to Thee.

Beneath my feet ten thousand children dead—
Oh! how I loved each known and nameless one!
Above their dust I bow my crownless head,
And murmur—Father, still Thy will be done.
Ah! Father, Thou didst deck my own loved land
With all bright charms, and beautiful and fair;
But foemen came, and, with a ruthless hand,
Spread ruin, wreck and desolation there.

Girdled with gloom, of all my brightness shorn,
And garmented with grief, I kiss Thy rod,
And turn my face, with tears all wet and worn,
To catch one smile of pity from my God.
Around me blight, where all before was bloom,
And so much lost, alas! and nothing won!
Save this—that I can lean on wreck and tomb,
And weep, and weeping, pray, Thy will be done.

And oh! ’tis hard to say, but said, ‘tis sweet;
The words are bitter, but they hold a balm—
A balm that heals the wounds of my defeat,
And lulls my sorrows into holy calm.
It is the prayer of prayers, and how it brings,
When heard in Heaven, peace and hope to me!
When Jesus prayed it, did not angels’ wings
Gleam ’mid the darkness of Gethsemane?

My children, Father, Thy forgiveness need;
Alas! their hearts have only place for tears!
Forgive them, Father, ev’ry wrongful deed
And ev’ry sin of those four bloody years,
And give them strength to bear their boundless loss,
And from their hearts take every thought of hate;
And while they climb their Calvary with their Cross,
Oh! help them, Father, to endure its weight.

And for my dead, my Father, may I pray?
Ah! sighs may soothe, but prayer shall soothe me more!
I keep eternal watch above their clay;
Oh! rest their souls, my Father, I implore!
Forgive my foes—they know not what they do—
Forgive them all the tears they made me shed;
Forgive them, though my noblest sons they slew,
And bless them, though they curse my poor, dear dead.

Oh! may my woes be each a carrier-dove,
With swift, white wings, that, bathing in my tears,
Will bear Thee, Father, all my prayers of love,
And bring me peace in all my doubts and fears.
Father, I kneel, ’mid ruin, wreck and grave—
A desert waste, where all was erst so fair—
And for my children and my foes I crave
Pity and Pardon—Father, hear my prayer!

- Fr. Abram J. Ryan

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

Important news:

I am rebranding this account since I post a good bit of Catholic content, and I don’t want to misrepresent the ideals of Gen. Hampton himself.

I am rebranding under Fr. Abram Joseph Ryan, famous for being the “priest-poet” of the confederacy. He made many beautiful poems, across many topics within the CSA. Ex: “The Sword of Robert E Lee” , “March of the Deathless Dead” etc.

This seems more fitting for the type of content I post. Don’t worry, still fully Dixie First, I just think this will be more fitting for this account.

Deo Vindice, Goodnight Dixie!

[CSA Appreciator @csa_appreciator]

If you had to vote in the Florida primary, who would you choose as GOP nominee for governor?

Do repost for a large sample, I want to see what people really think.

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

@jay_r3739 True. Can’t do anything but wait and see🤷. Doing all I can

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

The South will never die.

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

I don’t like Nick Shirley or that other guy he’s doing the video with, but I think this situation is genuinely crazy.

I can’t help but hope this doesn’t come to SC.

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

@WhiteyPowers83 And you don’t know Christ.

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

This is inherently anti-Christian rhetoric.

[Nicholas @WhiteyPowers83]

Only Whites can be Christian. I don’t care what a shitskin nigger tries to claim. I also don’t care what your faggot pastor has to say. God hates non Whites and if that isn’t obvious then you’re a moron.

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

@floydthegoy Much obliged Floyd!

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

Another day, another TLM.

Go and worship on this fine day the Lord has given us.

Pray for all Christian’s across the world, that we may one day be re-united under one body. ❤️✝️

[Steve Boer @Steve_Boer1865]

Happy LORD'S Day Dixie
,,, 🙏😇➕👌🤠✖️

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

@1776Murican_ What is up with the Anime faggotry

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

@GringoPapist Beautiful

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

@Sett_from_LoL @ReckoninSC But…. but….. SLAVERYYYY🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[Moose @Mooseamillion]

Man will never have to buy a beer in Raleigh for as long as he lives.

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

And then he called the Mother of God a golden calf! 🤣🤣

If you have a problem with this, you need to do a re-read of many books of the Bible. I’d recommend Revelation.

May Our Lady convert all who deny her role.

[U.V. Koren Patriarch of 🇳🇴🇺🇸 Lutherans @cfw_walther]

Pack your bags guys they started worshipping a golden calf before Luther started writing, protestant deboonked.

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

@nolibertarians Instructions unclear. TLM attended.

[Flag Mouse🇻🇦✝️🇺🇸 🇵🇱🇩🇪✝️ @GringoPapist]

Go to Holy Mass today!

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

@lionslanguish

[Fr. Abram J. Ryan @tradaugustinian]

Sins confessed. Thanks be to God.