HYMNS

HOURS OF THE PASSION

CIR

IRCLED by His enemies, by His own forsaken,

Christ, the Lord, at Matin hour for our sakes was taken:

Very Wisdom, Very Light, Monarch long expected,

In the garden by the Jews bound, reviled, rejected. Amen.

Prime.

T the hour of Prime the Lord entered on His Passion,

And blasphemers, standing round, railed in bitter fashion;

There with spitting and with shame, ill for good they render, Marring of that Face, which gives heaven eternal splendour. Amen.

Terce.

'RUCIFY Him'-for His love is their bitter payment,

When they lead Him forth at Terce, clad in purple raiment;

He a crown of woven thorns, King of glory, weareth,

And the Cross to Calvary on His shoulders beareth. Amen.

Sext.

E upon the Cross at Sext for our sakes was mounted;

HE

By the passers-by reviled, with transgressors counted:

Vinegar and gall they gave to His thirst to slake it,

Which when He had tasted of He refused to take it.

None.

Amen.

T the hour of None the strife, long

AT and sharp, was ended;

Gently to His Father's hands He His soul commended;

And a soldier pierced His Side, whence is our salvation;

And the Water and the Blood healed our condemnation.

Vespers.

Amen.

W from the Cross they take Him,

HEN it came to Vesper_time,

Whose great love to bear such woes for our sakes could make Him. Such a death He underwent, sin's alone Physician,

That of everlasting life we might have

fruition.

Amen.

AT

Compline.

T the holy Compline hour holy hands array Him

In the garments of the grave, where our mourners lay Him;

Myrrh and spices have they broughtScripture is completed

And by Death the Prince of Life death and hell defeated.

Wherefore these Canonical Hours my tongue shall ever

In Thy Praise, O Christ, recite with my heart's endeavor;

That the Love which, for my sake, bare such tribulation,

In mine own death-agony may be my salvation. Amen.

HYMNS OF THE PASSION

TH

Vexilla Regis.

HE royal banners forward go, The cross shines forth in mystic glow;

Where He in flesh, our flesh Who made, Our sentence bore, our ranson paid.

There whilst He hung, His sacred side By soldier's spear was opened wide,

To cleanse us in the precious flood
Of water mingled with His blood.

Fulfilled is now what David told
In true prophetic song of old,
How God the heathen's King should
be;

For God is reigning from the tree.

O tree of glory, tree most fair,

Ordained those holy limbs to bear, How bright in purple robe it stood, The purple of a Saviour's blood!

Upon its arms, like balance true, He weighed the price for sinners due,

The price which none but He could

pay,

And spoiled the spoiler of his prey.

To Thee, eternal Three in One,
Let homage meet by all be done :
As by the cross Thou dost restore,
So rule and guide us evermore.

Pange Lingua gloriosi lauream
certaminis.

Office Hymn, Passion Sunday.

ING my tongue, the glorious battle
Sing the winning of the fray,

And above the Cross, the trophy,
Sound the high triumphal lay;
Tell of how the world's Redeemer
As a Victim won the day.