The Hymns of Prudentius Part 18

Behold herein the triple sign Of Thy pure being, King divine: Seeing the Father willed in Thee To plant a threefold majesty.

The gift of gold thee King proclaims: Thee G.o.d the fragrant incense names: The myrrh declares that Death shall thrust Within the tomb Thy body's dust.

Ah! that dark sepulchre, whose fold G.o.d's body quenched in death doth hold: Yet shall He from that durance wake And Death's strong prison-fetters break.

O Bethlehem! no longer thou The least of cities: all shall vow That thou art greatest on the earth: For thou man's King didst bring to birth.

Yea thou didst on thy bosom bear The All-loving Father's only heir: Man of the Thunderer's Spirit made And G.o.d in human flesh arrayed.

The prophets witnessed to the bond Which sealed to Him the realm profound: The Father's Kingdom He received And the vast legacy perceived.

All things are His in sea and sky, In h.e.l.l beneath, in heaven on high: From East to setting sun, in fee He holds the earth's immensity.

Distraught, the tyrant base doth hear That now the King of Kings draws near To reign in David's seat of state And Israel's empire dominate.

"Betrayed are we," he maddened cries, "Our throne's usurper doth arise: Go, soldiers, go with sword in hand And slay all babes within my land.

"Spare no male child: each nurse's robe Your scrutinizing steel must probe: Spare not the suckling infant, though O'er mother's breast its life-blood flow.

"On Bethlehem our suspicion falls, On every hearth within its walls: Lest mothers with love's tender zeal Some manly scion may conceal."

With daggers drawn the infuriate crew Upon their murderous errand flew: Each latest offspring of the womb To b.l.o.o.d.y death they foully doom.

Ah tiny limbs! 'twas hard to know How best to strike the fatal blow: Too wide the sword-blades are to smite Those throats so silken-fragile, slight.

O horrid sight! the tender bones Are dashed against the jagged stones: Sightless and mangled there they lie, Poor babes! untimely doomed to die.

Perchance the still deep river laves Their bodies thrust into the waves: The current with their sighing sighs, Sobs with their latest, broken cries.

Ye flowers of martyrdom, all hail!

Of rising morn pure blossoms frail!

By Jesu's foe were ye downcast, Like budding roses by the blast.

Lambs of the flock too early slain, Ye first fruits of Christ's bitter pain!

Close to His very altar, gay With palms and crowns, ye now do play.

Of what avail is deed so vile?

Doth Herod gain by murderous guile?

Of all to death so foully done Escapes triumphant Christ alone.

Amidst that tide of infant gore Alone He wins the sheltering sh.o.r.e: The virgin's Child survives the stroke, When every mother's heart was broke.

Thus Moses 'scaped the mad decree Of evil Pharaoh and set free The flock of G.o.d, prefiguring so Christ spared from fate's malignant blow.

Vain too the king's hostility Who framed the pitiless decree That Israel's mothers should not rear To manhood's strength their offspring dear.

Quickened by love, a woman's mind Found means to thwart that law unkind, And, falsely true, the child concealed Destined to be his people's Shield.

On him it was that G.o.d did place The august priesthood's holy grace, The law on stony tablets writ Did to his trembling hands commit.

And may we not with prophet's eye In such a hero Christ descry?

The proud Egyptian's might he broke And freed his kinsmen from the yoke.

So we by Error's might hemmed round Were by our Captain's strength unbound: His foe He wounded in the fight And saved us from Death's horrid night.

Cheering by sign of flame their feet, Moses renewed with waters sweet His folk, albeit purified From stain, what time they crossed the tide.

And he, remote on peaceful height, Amalek's banded hosts did smite: He prayed with arms stretched out above, Foreshadowing the Cross of Love.

Yet truer Jesus surely he, Who after many a victory And labours long the tribes' renown With promised heritage did crown;

Who when the waters rose on high And now the Jordan's bed was dry, Set up twelve stones of memory, Types of apostles yet to be.

Rightly the Wise Men said, I ween, That they Judaea's King had seen, Since n.o.ble deeds of other days Prophetic chant the Saviour's praise.

Of those old rulers He is King Who did to Jacob judgment bring, King of the Mother Church divine, G.o.d's ancient and G.o.d's present Shrine.

Of Ephraim's sons He is adored: Mana.s.seh's sacred house as Lord Reveres Him: to His might the seed Of brethren twelve their fealty plead.

Nay, each degenerate race hath fled Its shameful rites and orgies dread: Grim Baal in glowing furnace cast Sinks to the earth, forsook at last.

Idols smoke-blackened, wooden-hewn, Of bra.s.s and stone, in dust are strewn: The chiselled deities downtrod: For all confess in Christ their G.o.d.

Rejoice all peoples, Jewry, Rome, Fair h.e.l.las, Thrace, Aegyptus' home: Persians and Scythian land forlorn, Rejoice: the world's great King is born!

Behold your Chief! His praise forth tell: Ye sick, ye hale, all heaven and h.e.l.l: Ay, you whose vital spark hath sped: For lo! in Him e'en Death is dead.

EPILOGUS

Inmolat Deo Patri pius, fidelis, innocens, pudicus dona conscientiae, quibus beata mens abundat intus: alter et pecuniam 5 recidit, unde vict.i.tent egeni.

Nos citos iambicos sacramus et rotatiles trochaeos, sanct.i.tatis indigi nec ad levamen pauperum potentes; 10 adprobat tamen Deus pedestre carmen, et benignus audit.

Multa divitis domo sita est per omnes angulos supellex.

Fulget aureus scyphus, 15 nec aere defit expolita pelvis: est et olla fictilis, gravisque et ampla argentea est parabsis.

Sunt eburna quaepiam, nonnulla quercu sunt cavata et ulmo: 20 omne vas fit utile, quod est ad usum congruens herilem, Instruunt enim domum ut empta magno, sic parata ligno.

Me paterno in atrio 25 ut obsoletum vasculum caducis Christus aptat usibus, sinitque parte in anguli manere.

Munus ecce fictile inimus intra regiam salutis; 30 attamen vel infimam Deo obsequelam praest.i.tisse prodest.

Quidquid illud accidit, iuvabit ore persona.s.se Christum.

EPILOGUE