IX

Rain-swol'n rivers may rise proud,
Bent all to drown and overflow;
But when indeed all's overflow'd,
They themselves are drowned too.

X

This Thy blood's deluge (a dire chance,
Dear Lord, to Thee) to us is found

A deluge of deliverance;

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A deluge lest we should be drown'd.

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Ne'er wast Thou in a sense so sadly true,
The well of living waters, Lord, till now.

UPON THE CROWN OF THORNS TAKEN DOWN FROM THE HEAD OF OUR BLESSED LORD, ALL BLOODY

Know'st thou this, Soldier? 'tis a much changed plant,

which yet

Thyself didst set.

['Tis changed indeed; did Autumn e'er such beauties

bring

To shame his Spring?]

A soil so kind?

Oh! who so hard a husbandman could ever find

Is not the soil a kind one (think ye) that returns
Roses for thorns?

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UPON THE BODY OF OUR B[LESSED]

LORD, NAKED AND BLOODY

They have left Thee naked, Lord; O that they had! This garment too I would they had denied. Thee with Thyself they have too richly clad;

Opening the purple wardrobe of Thy side.

O never could there be garment to[o] good
For Thee to wear, but this of Thine own blood.

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THE HYMN OF SAINT THOMAS

IN ADORATION OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT
ADORO TE

With all the powers my poor heart hath

Of humble love and loyal faith,

Thus low (my hidden life!) I bow to Thee,

Whom too much love hath bow'd more low for me.

Down, down, proud Sense! discourses die!

Keep close, my soul's inquiring eye!

Nor touch nor taste must look for more,
But each sit still in his own door.

5

Your ports are all superfluous here,
Save that which lets in Faith, the ear.
Faith is my skill; Faith can believe
As fast as Love new laws can give.
Faith is my force: Faith strength affords

To keep pace with those pow'rful words.

And words more sure, more sweet than they,
Love could not think, Truth could not say.

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O let Thy wretch find that relief
Thou didst afford the faithful thief.
Plead for me, Love! allege and show
That Faith has farther here to go,
And less to lean on: because then

Though hid as God, wounds writ Thee man;
Thomas might touch, none but might see

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At least the suffering side of Thee;

And that too was Thyself which Thee did cover,

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But here ev'n that's hid too which hides the other.

Sweet, consider then, that I,

Though allowed nor hand nor eye,

To reach at Thy loved face; nor can
Taste Thee God, or touch Thee man,
Both yet believe, and witness Thee

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My Lord too, and my God, as loud as he.

Help, Lord, my faith, my hope increase,

And fill my portion in Thy peace:
Give love for life; nor let my days

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Grow, but in new powers to Thy name and praise.

O dear memorial of that Death

Which lives still, and allows us breath!

Rich, royal food! Bountiful bread!

Whose use denies us to the dead;

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Whose vital gust alone can give

The same leave both to eat and live.

Live ever, bread of loves, and be
My life, my soul, my surer self to me.

O soft, self-wounding Pelican!

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Whose breast weeps balm for wounded man:

Ah, this way bend Thy benign flood

To a bleeding heart that gasps for blood.
That blood, whose least drops sovereign be
To wash my world of sins from me.
Come Love! come Lord! and that long day
For which I languish, come away.
When this dry soul those eyes shall see,
And drink the unseal'd source of Thee:
When Glory's sun Faith's shades shall chase,
And for Thy veil give me Thy face. Amen.

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55

LAUDA SION SALVATOREM

THE HYMN FOR THE BL[ESSED] SACRAMENT

I

Rise, royal Sion! rise and sing

Thy soul's kind Shepherd, thy heart's King.
Stretch all thy powers; call if you can

Harps of heaven to hands of man.

This sovereign subject sits above
The best ambition of thy love.

II

Lo, the Bread of Life, this day's
Triumphant text, provokes thy praise;
The living and life-giving bread,
To the great twelve distributed;
When Life, Himself, at point to die
Of love, was His Own legacy.

G

III

Come Love! and let us work a song
Loud and pleasant, sweet and long;
Let lips and hearts lift high the noise

Of so just and solemn joys,

Which on His white brows this bright day
Shall hence for ever bear away.

IV

Lo, the new law of a new Lord
With a new Lamb blesses the board:
The agèd Pascha pleads not years,
But spies Love's dawn, and disappears.
Types yield to truths; shades shrink away;
And their Night dies into our Day.

V

But lest that die too, we are bid
Ever to do what He once did:
And by a mindful, mystic breath,
That we may live, revive His death;
With a well-bless'd bread and wine,
Transumed, and taught to turn divine.

VI

The Heaven-instructed house of Faith
Here a holy dictate hath,

That they but lend their form and face;-
Themselves with reverence leave their place,
Nature, and name, to be made good,

By a nobler bread, more needful blood.

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