Below are a few very short stories about these three saints, since they were early martyrs there is not very much on them. There are also some printables from Crusaders-for-Christ, as well as a few from our site and some wonderful reading and Pinterest inspiration. We hope you have a blessed Friday!
The Lives of the Fathers, martyrs, and other Principle saints
By Rev. Alban Butler
These three holy sisters suffered many torments and a cruel death for the faith at Rome, in the reign of Adrian. St. So phia, their mother, gave them these names out of devotion, and her love of the theological virtues. She trained them up in Host perfect sentiments of religion and piety, rejoiced exceed ingly to see them honoured with the crown of martyrdom, and exhorted them in their conflict. She served God in holy widow hood, and died in peace. She is commemorated on the 30th of Septemher. The names of these saints have been always fa mous both in the Eastern and 'Western churches.
The New Catholic Dictionary
Faith, Hope and Charity, SAINTS, martyrs (2nd century). In the reign of Hadrian a Roman matron named Sophia (Gr. Wisdom) with her three daughters, Pistis, Elpis, and Agape (Gr., Faith, Hope, and Charity), were martyred for the Faith, and buried on the Aurelian Way. At a later date Sapientia (Gr. Wisdom) and her three companions, Spes, Fides, and Caritas (Lat., Faith, Hope, Charity), were put to death and were buried in the cemetery of St. Cllistus on the Appian Way. Feast, 1 Aug. - C.E.; Butler.
Children of The Kingdom
+ Imprimatur 1914
FAITH, THE BRAVE
It was a dreary day in mid-winter. In the narrow passages of the catacombs the rough stone walls were streaked with dampness, and the cold wind swept sharply through the rocks piled up to hide the entrance.
Toiling slowly along the dark, uneven passage was a Roman mother, a sleeping child in her arms. One hand was outstretched before her, as she half blindly felt her way. Over and over again she whispered softly to herself the name of Jesus. Brave though she was, and used to danger, the bitter cold and stillness of the catacombs filled her with terror, and every few steps she paused to listen for other footfalls than her own.
At last a faint glimmer of candlelight in the distance pointed like the star of Bethlehem, long ago, to the tiny cave-home of the King of kings, and she knew she was nearing her journey’s end. The light streamed from the entrance to a small chapel, where a silver-haired priest was praying with bowed head and out-stretched arms before a rude altar. Near him was a baptismal font, cut into the rocky floor.
“Father,” she whispered softly. He heard and arose from his knees. Smiling, he came towards her and held out his arms for the child. “Not God’s little one yet,” he said gently, “soon to be. What name shall we give thee when thou art made God’s child?” he said to the wee form in his arms.
The mother’s eyes were full of happy tears. “Call her Faith, Holy Father,” she cried, “that my child may hold that treasure dearer even than life.”
A moment later, and the clear cold water touched the little brow and the solemn words were spoken, “I baptize thee, Faith, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”
Kneeling before the altar, the mother held her child to her heart for an instant, then outstretched her arms in surrender and laid the little one at the foot of the rough cross that hung on the wall. “I give her to You, Jesus,” she whispered. “Keep her soul always as pure as it is today.”
The years passed, and baby Faith blossomed into maidenhood, true and sweet in the midst of the wickedness about her as a snow-white lily in a bed of rank weeds. She held her heart aloft for the King’s love. Hope and Charity were her two little sisters, and the mother used to call them her trinity of daughters.
At last came the day so longed for by the brave little Christians of Rome, the great day when they were called to lay down their lives for the sake of Jesus Christ, Who had died for them. The three girls were brought captive together to the great court room, where they stood fearlessly before the judge.
Faith, the eldest, was tried first. Twelve short years had she spent on earth, but her courage was as dauntless, her resolve as high as though she had faced the storms of half a century. She was condemned to be thrown into a cauldron of boiling pitch. The brutal order was carried out, and she remained unharmed in the midst of the terrific heat.
The judge, unmoved by the evident touch of God’s hand, ordered her to be beheaded. The child kissed her mother, and was held to her heart once more, as so long ago before the little altar of the catacombs, then was surrendered once more to the thorn-crowned King. And the girl passed joyously to that eternal land where faith is changed to vision and the soul is at home with God. Her feast day is August 1st.