The Antiphon. O sad, sweet tree! Woeful and joyful we Both weep and sing in shade of thee. And graft into thy gracious stock The hope, the health, The worth, the wealth Of all the ransomed World, thou hadst the power (In that propitious hour) To poise each precious limb, And prove how light the World was, when it weighed. with Him. Wide mayest thou spread Thine arms, and with thy bright and blissful head The King Himself is; thou His humble throne, Proved a new path of patient victory : The Versicle. Lo, we adore Thee, Dread LAMB! and bow thus low before Thee. The Responsor. 'Cause by the covenant of Thy cross, Thou hast saved the World from certain loss. The Prayer. O Lord Jesu Christ, Son of the living, etc. COMPLINE. The Versicle. Lord, by Thy sweet and saving sign! The Responsor. Defend us from our foes and Thine. V. Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord R. And my mouth shall shew forth Thy praise. V. R. V. R. O God, make speed to save me! O Lord, make haste to help me! Glory be to, &c. As it was in the, &c. THE HYMN. The Complin hour comes last, to call Us to our own lives' funeral. Ah, heartless task! yet Hope takes head, And lives in Him that here lies dead. Run, Mary, run! bring hither all the blest Pour on thy noblest sweets, which, when they touch This sweeter body, shall indeed be such. But must Thy bed, Lord, be a borrowed grave, 'Cause, though a hard and cold one, yet it is Thine own. Amen. The Antiphon. O save us then, Merciful King of men! Since Thou wouldst needs be thus A Saviour, and at such a rate, for us; Save us, O save us, Lord. We now will own no shorter wish, nor name a Thy blood bids us be bold, Thy sorrows chide our shame : Thy cross, Thy nature, and Thy name Advance our claim, And cry with one accord, Save them, O save them, Lord! THE RECOMMENDATION. These hours, and that which hovers o'er my end, Take both to Thine account, that I and mine, That as I dedicate my devoutest breath So from His living, and life-giving death, My dying life may draw a new and never fleeting breath, Upon The Holy Sepulchre -:0: Verilla Regis : THE HYMN OF THE HOLY CROSS. I. Look up, languishing soul! Lo, where the fair And bids thee ne'er forget Thy life is one long debt Of love to Him, Who on this painful tree II. Lo, how the streams of life, from that full nest, Of loves, Thy Lord's too liberal breast, Flow in an amorous flood Of water wedding blood. With these He wash'd thy stain, transferr'd thy smart, And took it home to His own heart. III. But though great Love, greedy of such sad gain, Usurp'd the portion of thy pain, And from the nails and spear Turn'd the steel point of fear : Their use is changed, not lost; and now they move Not stings of wrath, but wounds of love. IV. Tall tree of life! thy truth makes good Though the prophetic king Struck loud his faithful string: It was thy wood he meant should make the throne For a more than Solomon. V. Large throne of Love! royally spread With purple of too rich a red : Thy crime is too much duty; Thy burthen too much beauty; Glorious or grievous more? thus to make good Thy costly excellence with thy King's own blood. VI. Even balance of both worlds! our world of sin, Our price for us thou payedst, Soon as the right-hand scale rejoiced to prove How much Death weigh'd more light than Love. VII. Hail, our alone hope! let thy fair head shoot |