Sabbath Song #1

I will arise and ascend to meet,

Jerusalem of Heaven coming down.

Saints in glory shall I greet,

Led by Christ, robed and crowned.

Ye saints on earth join in the song,

Shed your sorrows from the valley,

Thy prayers lift up a tower strong,

Entwining an unnumbered tally.

Shout! Let the gates of Hell tremble,

Shout! The King of Glory descends!

Shout! Let all His saints assemble,

Shout! Every power before Him bends!

Let us arise and ascent to meet,

Jerusalem of Heaven coming down.

Saints in glory let us greet,

Led by Jesus, robed and crowned.

When we depart, armed for battle,

Let not vice nor evil arrow land,

Let foes hear our roar and rattle,

Let them fear our joyous band!

Take our lives! Our souls remain,

Take our goods! We have our King,

Take our might! God shall sustain,

Take all away! We still shall sing:

Shout! Let the gates of Hell tremble,

Shout! The King of Glory descends!

Shout! Let all His saints assemble,

Shout! Every power before Him bends!

Contrasting Figures of Glory

Glory, as God, is revealed,

Yet remains shrouded:

Mysterious even for all its familiarity.

What does the word mean, anyway?

And can it once, twice, figured out, glimpséd be?

Is it like what happens when you first arrive at a beach?

You step onto the scalding, bleached sand; feet bare,

("Is this holy ground?" your feet squeak)

You cannot stare--the orb of heaven's beams break

Upon the waters and dash into your eyes from the dunes

Dazzling them with impenetrable light.

Yet there is sight,

(and zounds! sounds, too)

Ocean waves, emerald and azure dejure, speak to you,

They whisper in harmonic tones, tomes;

Whishing their wishes for someone to hear,

Some one, like you, with ears and eyes and pores open.

The sky lengthens itself across the horizon,

Kissing the sea along its entire body,

As its clouds, pluming with loving pride, ascend,

Stretching their precipitous bulk toward the firmament.

Or maybe glory is like a thunderstorm in the wild,

Where no man wishes to witness its violence unsheltered.

Spewing liquid bullets at the earth from high turrets,

(A million gatling guns going off--RA-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!)

Zeus-flung fire bolts from the bow of heaven fall,

(Drums of thunder shock the air with their sound--BA-BOOM-BOOM-boom-boom)

Blasting the grasses and trees into oblivion,

Bringing forth fires to blow their foul breath,

Popping and hissing across the plains in the rain,

Leaving behind their black carnage, and scattered bones,

To be bleached in the sun's bright coroner light,

Testifying to the storm's death-dealing power,

From which, in time, new life shall, verdant, 

Spring (copses from corpses).

Twice figured glory, are you thus espied, touched, and sounded?

And in a story, sweetly fabled, moralized and founded?

A Superficial Poem

Shall I dwell upon the surface, or
Dive into the depths? Doesn't it depend
Upon the end, the object, the bend of will?
I'm sitting on a surface, my feet upon a surface,
My skin enfolded by surfaces. Each keeps
Its own texture, density, mass, extension, tension,
Opacity, load-bearing capacity, elasticity,
Light sensitivity, composition, and dexterity.
If I could align my eye parallel to these
Planes, would their silent undulations not
Reveal depths? Rolling folds, fissures,
Depressions from long-standing pressures,
Pressed upon their. . .surfaces? My own
Surface cracks at the sinister-side of its cavern,
Curling up cheek folds, closing up a window, to
Keep out--ALL-TOO-SERIOUS--depths; dark,
Shadowy burglars what steal away the best
Superficialities.

On Love Poems

On Love Poems: a Sonnet

Twin turns converge upon a sunswept glade,
And along each a traveler ascends.
With each faint footfall images cascade;
Hand clasp, and coy glance, and soft summer winds.
As when fruits on boughs swell with sweet liquor,
So each heart's pregnant anticipation
Swells to the venules with love's sweet ichor,
Pressing their pace with each palpitation.
As idyll for lovers long since parted,
Or lyric where lonely desires arise,
So too these twin turns converge where started,
In each lover's heartsick sigh's last reprise:
     Fancy's false edge can ne'er cut through whetting,
     Nor bloodless words join lovers, through letting.

Winter Sonnet

Upon the wastes of field and fen I plod,
And seek one lost, my love, whose body lies
Somewhere between the seafoam and the sod,
Betwixt the grassland greens and azure skies.
Your name I name with cries that sighing blow
Upon cold breezes carrion birds now fly;
Black wings and clouds descending with the snow
To cloak in palest shrouds, for hopes to die.
Ice falls and rests on limbs that lowly sway,
As tears from lookers on in canopies
Collect on shoulders plumed with winged splay,
As if to share the burden of my cries.
If winter ends in death and dirge's plaint,
Yet spring must resurrect my fallen saint.

Two Sonnets On Time

I looked upon my life to judge its worth,
Good deeds and bad; its joys with all its woe,
From edge of existence to day of birth,
Thus weighed in balance, I, of all I know.
But vanity of vanities, alas!
The gavel strikes and shadow downward bends.
"What profit" cried I, "O'er this life shall pass,
"When all thy days are gone and soul descends?
"Thy son or servant, wisdom may not keep,
To grow or guard what labors' increase shows,
And thy poor soul cannot awake from sleep,
To chide or buffet backs with whips and blows."
          Thy labors thou must now enjoy and love,
          As gifts in season, given thee by Jove.

-----

A time is there to bless or curse tis said,
A time to laugh and cry; to sow and reap,
A time to work and rest upon thy bed,
A time to give; another time to keep.
The times will change but time will stay the same,
For time is there to stop and time to go,
And time will mend or break a good man's name,
For time will cover up and time will show.
O time! Thus strumpeted by all and naught,
What time have thou to give or take to thee?
Of all the times tis time is time's own thought;
For time is there for time to timely be.
          I took of time some time a time to show,
          That most of time, in time, one cannot know.

A Sonnet

Like a ram's horn that blasts a battle cry,
Or hawk's fell cry before her prey she snares,
So my words whirling on the wind do fly,
And raise a din as far as rocket's flare.
Not war, nor hunt of martial nature signs,
My voice's meaning more of love partakes,
Of all of nature's fit and fair designs,
I praise the image formed without mistakes.
Thy form no jewels' shimmer can outshine,
Thy loveliness surpasses ev'ry grace,
Though sun and stars their countenance combine,
They'd pale before the splendor of thy face.
          These words I blast to heaven's highest bend,
          None touches thee unless thou wilt descend.

Sonnet for Calvin's Institutes 1.1-3

Duplex Cognitio Dei

When I consider all the ways of man,

His blesséd pow'rs, or heaven's sun and show'rs,

Or that ill state of ruin that makes him wan,

And call to God for help in lowly hours;

When eye is cast beyond the earthly haze,

And pierces through the starry heights above,

To rest on beauty, burning blind its gaze,

And falters before glory's weighty oeuvre,

Then shall a man, his God and self behold

Aright in truth: that righteousness, so pure;

That wisdom, keen; that virtue, ever bold,

That light in fullest light, none can endure,

Till he undone shall be by doom and death,

And born anew by Holy Spirit's breath.

Analysis of Good Friday. 1613. Riding Westward. By John Donne

John Donne’s poem, “Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward,” offers a meditation upon Easter from the perspective of one who is caught up in worldly affairs when he would rather be taken up with heavenly considerations.

Forty-two lines arranged in 21 rhymed couplets comprise a poem of three major sections: lines 1-14 introduce a metaphor of the soul as a heavenly sphere and Christ as the Sun; lines 15-32 meditate upon the crucifixion of Christ; and lines 33-42 meet the gaze of the narrator with the gaze of Christ from the cross; concluding in a prayer for reconciliation wherein Christ and the narrator commune face to face.

The opening ten lines draw the reader to the heavens and the soul. Comparing the soul to a heavenly body matches microcosmic man and macrocosmic cosmos. However, the narrator elides the idea of musical harmony of the spheres for an image of the cosmos as a frustration of self-motion. Each sphere’s own rotation about its axis competes with the pull of the othes, such that a sphere’s self-motion occurs “scarce in a yeare.” This change highlights the soul’s contemplation of the Cross during Easter, which occurs but once a year, but ought to impel the soul’s motion every day. Instead of heavenly bodies, the pleasures and business of earth draws man’s soul away from contemplating the work of Christ. The narrator’s actual bodily movement West contrasts his soul’s desire to go East, the place from whence Christ shall return.

The meter is predominantly iambic, with a few variations that underscore the interpretation above. The poem begins with spondaic substitution, giving the first three monosyllabic words the prominence of a thesis: “Let mans Soule.” But let mans soul be what? The iamb brings the emphasis upon the metaphoric comparison: a sphere. The caesura after “sphere” allows the reader to pause for the briefest of moments to digest the thesis. The trochaic substitution in line four highlights the contrast between the idea of the soul growing—in conjunction with intelligence and devotion—and subjection to foreign motion. The soul’s motion, like the spheres’s motion, is subject to others than itself. The trochaic substitution in line six parallels line four and develops the idea of subjection—not only does the soul not move of itself, self-motion is “scarce in a yeare” obeyed. A final spondaic substitution in line nine (“Hence is’t”) marks the end of the thesis and offers a sense of finality to the claim.

Despite the thesis of the opening ten lines, the narrator nonetheless finds his soul capable of bending East, and begins a mediation upon Christ that occurs through a seamless transition from the heavenly Sun’s rising metaphorically identified with Christ’s taking up flesh, and the Sun’s setting with Christ’s crucifixion. The cosmological Son’s setting begets night, but the theological Son’s setting begets an “endlesse day.” The metaphor complete, line thirteen begins with pyrhrhic and trochaic substitutions (“But that / Christ on”) before returning to iambic feet. The result is to bring two subsequent crescendos upon “Christ” and the “Cross”. Line fourteen’s trochaic substitution in the first foot draws up the contrast contained in the couplet: Had Christ not been raised upon the Cross to fall into death, “Sinne” would have brought eternal night rather than the endlesse day of line twelve.

Line fifteen begins a new unit. There, a spondaic substitution mirrors the pattern from the first line, and a new thesis emerges. Instead of drawing the narrator’s soul into the cosmic realm, his soul transverses time and beholds the crucifixion. Line seventeen follows a chiastic meter: iambic feet enclose spondaic feet with a pyrrhic central foot. The caesura falls after “face” which allows the pyrrhic hinge to swing smoothly into the trochaic comparative claim: God’s face is “selfe life”. The sweeping rhythm of line sixteen brings the thought into relief in line eighteen as the narrator hammers two trochaic feet into an iambic foot that pauses on the caesura before driving home the emphatic contrast on an iambic to spondaic ending to the line (“to see / God dye”). If beholding God’s face, which encompasses both His own self-contained life as well as the life of all His creatures invites death, how much more a death comes from seeing God die on the cross? The scandalous image leads directly to the cosmic effects that occurred in Christ’s death: the Father’s face turned aside, the earth broken, and the sun darkened. The energy of these cataclysms invites a rising tone and pace; brought to rapid conclusion with a penultimate pyrrhic hinge shutting upon the doubly emphatic spondee (“and the / Sunne winke”).

The poet continues his meditation upon the paradoxes of the Crucifixion in lines twenty-one through twenty-eight. The narrator contemplates the four-fold implications of the cross: Christ’s all encompassing latitude pierced, his all encompassing longitude humbled, his all sustaining inner life-blood made dust; his outer fully-man-flesh torn. Line twenty-two substitutes a spondee in the second foot to emphasize the universality of Christ’s latitude: his hands span “all spheares” and then, after pausing at the caesura, a trochaic fourth foot emphasizes the paradox that these hands were “peirc’d” with holes. The twenty-fifth line appears to use a caesura to split a trochaic substitution in the third foot, pausing on the end of the question of whether the narrator could endure the humiliation of Christ, the height and depth of all created things. A spondaic substitution in the third foot of line twenty-six mirrors the one in line twenty-two: Christ’s hands “tune all spheares” and Christ’s blood seats “all our Soules.” Another parallel occurs in lines twenty-three and twenty-seven. A pyrrhic substitution succeeded by a trochee in the third and fourth feet of line twenty-seven leads into the next interrogative (thus _ _ / on “or that flesh”), which matches the introduction of the interrogative in line twenty-five where the trochaic third foot is split by the caesura and followed by an iambic foot (thus _ _ / on “or that blood”).

The narrator moves from the four-fold consequences of the cross to the mother of Christ in lines twenty-nine through thirty-two. The transition draws emphasis from the spondaic substitution at the end of line twenty-nine and the spondaic substitution split by a caesura in the fourth foot of line thirty (“durst I”. . .“mother//cast”). Lines thirty-one and thirty-two use parallel trochaic substitutions in their first lines, emphasizing the person of Mary (“Who”) and her contribution (“Halfe”). A trochee in the second foot of line thirty-one also brings emphasis upon “God” as the partner.

The last unit begins in line thirty-three with the same spondee and trochee substitution pattern as lines one and fifteen contain; the other unit markers. The entire poem plays with the notion of motion and sight: motion in space and time; and sight in terms of contemplation as well as looking upon. Line thirty-four draws the four-fold divisions of motion and sight together in the faculty of memory, through which the narrator looks upon and may be looked upon by Christ. Line thirty-five emphasizes this double-gaze with a trochaic substitution in the second and third feet (“looks towards/them and”). The caesura breaks up the fourth foot in the line, pausing to allow the spondee in the fourth foot to draw into relief the gaze of Christ reflecting back upon the gaze of the narrator. The gaze of Christ stops the narrator in a spondaic exclamation (“O Sav / iour”) in the first foot of line thirty-six that then rushes through a pyrrhic foot into an iambic, highlighting Christ’s location: hanging on the cross. The enjambment at lines thirty-seven and thirty-eight illustrates the double-nature of shame. The reader sees the narrator turning his back upon Christ and cannot tell until the next line whether his shame results in the blows of condemnation, or, as it turns out, the blows of loving chastisement. The caesura after “Corrections” in line thirty-eight allows a breath of relief before returning to the closing prayer’s plea, visible in the trochaic first foot of line thirty-nine (“O thinke”) as well as in the spondaic substitution in the fourth foot (“thine an/ger”)—the narrator calls upon Christ to care enough to be angry with rather than indifferent to his sins. The emphasis upon the chastisement continues in the spondaic substitution in the first foot of line forty (“Burne off”). The ultimate line draws the prayer to its ultimate hope with a trochaic substitution in the third foot, split by the caesura (“/ may’st know / me//and /)—that Christ would know the narrator in righteousness; that through the love of His correcting anger, his purging fire, the narrator might be known, and so look upon Christ face to face.

Update: I've uploaded a video recitation of the poem that attempts to portray the interpretation offered above.

One from Donne

Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward

BY JOHN DONNE

Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this, 

The intelligence that moves, devotion is, 

And as the other Spheares, by being growne 

Subject to forraigne motion, lose their owne, 

And being by others hurried every day, 

Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey: 

Pleasure or businesse, so, our Soules admit 

For their first mover, and are whirld by it. 

Hence is't, that I am carryed towards the West 

This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East. 

There I should see a Sunne, by rising set, 

And by that setting endlesse day beget; 

But that Christ on this Crosse, did rise and fall, 

Sinne had eternally benighted all. 

Yet dare I'almost be glad, I do not see 

That spectacle of too much weight for mee. 

Who sees Gods face, that is selfe life, must dye; 

What a death were it then to see God dye? 

It made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke, 

It made his footstoole crack, and the Sunne winke. 

Could I behold those hands which span the Poles, 

And tune all spheares at once peirc'd with those holes? 

Could I behold that endlesse height which is 

Zenith to us, and our Antipodes, 

Humbled below us? or that blood which is 

The seat of all our Soules, if not of his, 

Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne 

By God, for his apparell, rag'd, and torne? 

If on these things I durst not looke, durst I 

Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye, 

Who was Gods partner here, and furnish'd thus 

Halfe of that Sacrifice, which ransom'd us? 

Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye, 

They'are present yet unto my memory, 

For that looks towards them; and thou look'st towards mee, 

O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree; 

I turne my backe to thee, but to receive 

Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave. 

O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee, 

Burne off my rusts, and my deformity, 

Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace, 

That thou may'st know mee, and I'll turne my face.

Easter Octave #8

#8
Crown the King for He is worthy,
Feeds the hungry, sates the thirsty!
His largess rolls like thunderous rain,
Doubling o'er again and again!
The music of the spheres resounds,
All earth becomes hallowéd ground!
Come join Him at the gathered feast,
Come high and low! Come great and least!

Easter Octave #7

#7
From lies Christ rose to set us free,
From the clutch of lifeless ennui,
From false smiles managed just to cope,
From sad eyes sullied by lost hope,
From guilt and shame earned or conjured,
From death Christ rose--and these conquered.

Easter Octave #6

#6

The stroke of death could not him slay,

Burst from the grave on the third day.

Having conquered all, all he owns,

All kingdoms, all powers, all thrones.

On high He reigns by His merit;

Draws near to men by His Spirit.

Easter Octave #5

#5
Splintered light spreads over the world,
As folds of hist'ry gape, unfurled,
Sleepers awake! Don't close your eyes!
God's Spirit with your spirit plies.
Face the faceless and kiss the Son,
Liven lifeless our King is Come!

Easter Octave #4

#4
Let not midpoint languish settle,
Tedious tasks thwart your mettle.
Find Joy in midst of much malaise,
Lift hearts of gratitude in praise!
A strength is ours, though derided,
Meekness in which we confided,
To receive from God all our gain,
So March we on in His sure name!

Easter Octave #3

#3
A cry goes out through all the land,

Come join with us, a merry band!

We walk in love, we laugh at fear,

For Joy is ours, God has drawn near!

Why languish still in dark of night?

Why cower in the cold of fright?

Enter Rest and cultivate Peace,

The Mighty are fallen: rise Least!

Easter Octaves #1 & #2

#1
He is risen, risen indeed!
Christ, the lamb, hath fulfilled our need,
Sorrows banished by famished death,
Children reborn by Spirit's breath!
Come worship the King, Risen Christ!
Come worship our God, Risen Christ!
Let all the world see, hear, and know,
Death has been dealt a killing blow!

#2
Dazzled eyes sparkle with New Light,
A world remade comes into sight.
Heaven breaths upon the new world,
The New Age of Man comes unfurled!
New Adam reigns on His high throne,
New liberty His pow'r makes known,
The power of life and keys of death,
Both are commanded by His breath!

2015 Lenten Prayers (collected)

O God resplendent, my poor prayer attend,

I ask this gift from Thee for kith and kin,

Do grant, Thou Blessed One, Holy and True,
More knowledge of Thee forever and amen.

Good Lord I ask that You bright zeal renew,

Within the men of pulpit and of pew,

In doctrine sound and piety make known,

Thy Light: the Good, the Beautiful, and True.

O Lord my God by pow'r your hand has shown,

How to kill, how to raise, how to make grown,

I ask that on Your children such pow'r last,

Till all the wicked from this orb be thrown. 

Cause us O Lord to remember the past,

Counting Thy mercies and holding them fast,

Spare us the vengeance we justly deserve,

Lest from Your presence this people be cast.

Lord fill Thy people with a will to serve,

Seal up all their heart wounds and steel their nerve,

Against fear or foe, against wrack and woe,

Thy name to proclaim; Thy name to preserve.

Train us, Lord of Hosts, to fend off the foe,

Vain weltering hordes in fiery glow,

If to be wracked, to be hacked, is our lot,

May our martyr-blood Thy long-suff'ring show.

Wheat and tares, O Lord, are tied as a knot,

Twined together till the end is their lot,

Grow us all, Lord God, to fullness of fruit,

That all Thy grace and judgment shall be brought.

'Gainst the Accuser, vainglorious brute,

Us strengthen, confirm, us fashion and suit,

Great Father bring forth Thy armies of light,

Our vanguard to ward off arrows he shoots.

Thy flesh and Thy blood be our full delight,

Against all evils of encroaching night,

Thy Body in rev'rent postures repose,

To quench all its thirsts and quell all its fright.

Let me dwell in the day that Christ arose,

As Thy Spirit's bond within my soul grows,

Knitted tighter through tribulation's work,

That all Thy strength to me, outwardly shows.

Let our praise of Thee, Lord, be a bulwark,

Thy great commission, O let not us shirk,

As ebbing time waxes to its fullness,

Let the flow of nations fill up Thy Kirk.

Almighty God pierce through present darkness,

All wayward sons bring under Thy harness,

Heal the wounds caused by our cursèd mouthings,

Speak Words of Life to vivify deadness.

Forget O Lord our incessant cursing,

For the sake of Your Son, His life coursing;

Covering, removing, destroying sin,

Draw us o'er the impassible crossing.

In this broken realm of sin-woe and din,

Where self-righteous cov'rings are ripped open,

None can say, "All may look to me for peace,"

Thy broken body and blood cry out then!

O Lamb who covers in Thy spotless fleece,

Cause all the world's self-righteousness to cease,

'Neath the wave of immaculate glory,

Poured forth from Thy everlasting increase.

Although 'tis known, the end of this story,

Labors and losses cause us to worry,

Cause us grief, pain, and a creeping despair,

O Lord gird us against dismal flurry!

Radiant light streaming from Thy face so fair,

Beckons praise from my poor lips without spare,

Tune my lips, O Lord, yea, moreso my heart,

That this praising of you be done with care.

Let both soul and body be set apart,

Until that day when the soul does depart,

Pure and holy, chastened until chaste be,

That Thee in me inhabit ev'ry part.

O God-Incarnate bind Thyself to me,

Grafted in Thy Body by Thy decree,

You have chosen and in my choosing I,

Reveal to the world Thy grace and mercy.

From Thy light the darkest evil does fly,

By Thy power the staunchest foes comply,

By Thy love an enemy is turned friend,

The once dead, now living, learn how to die.

Into the broken world Thy people send,

Into winds of a storm to brace and bend,

Rooted in Thy Love we cannot be torn,

From Thee, no enemy power can rend.

When all sin Thou hast from us stripped and shorn,

And Light of Thy countenance shines as morn,

Then shall speaking and doing blossom full,

And praises sing out as blast of bright horn.

From among all the nations Your people cull,

The hearts of kings and kingdoms push and pull,

Until the fullness of time and age swell,

And all Your enemies' schemes are made null.

Let us in Thy dear presence always dwell,

That our hearts and our minds be always well,

Our desires be overflowing in Thee,

Our confidence growing, all fears to quell.

When eyes have not the strength by which to see,

Let our blindness become humility,

Guard, guide, wake, walk, overshadow with Thy wing,

To lead us, take us, into Thy glory.

May lisping tongues ever, professions, sing,

May meek off'rings ever, confessors, bring,

Unto this God-Man, Christ Jesus, the Lord,

Our savior, our brother, our conq'ring king.

Smitten by pestilence, famine, and sword,

Sundered as by fire, consumed by discord,

Wrenching and blenching, upturning our face,

To One in whom all are made one accord.

Slanderers and thieves do mock our disgrace,

Condemning our worship, sacking our space,

Loose our chains and bind our enemy's hand,

That Thy name may resound from place to place.

Number Thy people as You number sand,

Raise up Thy armies as a glorious band,

Stave off Thy wrath till the timing is sure,

Then set loose vengeance; by trumpet command.

Under curse, the world desires a cure,

From the filth of death to be remade pure,

When the Light, breaking through darkness, gleaming,

Transforming men's souls by Beauty's allure.

The Stars of heaven shall fall down streaming,

As their wails of anguish cry out, screaming,

Fell demons fallen into molten flame,

Christ's Holy Light in all-brightness beaming.

All men of the world took share in the blame,

But only One Man could bear all the shame,

Dying and living once more by His pow'r,

That all might worship on hearing His Name.

Our Fallen Lord at the desperate hour,

Left once fair faces of his people dour,

Then despair did grip fallen hearts of men,

And Satan cast a victory glower.

Crushed within by the weight of human sin,

Spat upon, ridiculed by raucous din,

Christ received our shame, becoming a curse,

That in His death, life should arise again.

Sold off by the one who carried the purse,

His life for the world, did life reimburse,

The cost was His glory; glory His gain;

Paradox refrain, every note and verse.

The creation groans with great cries of pain,

The howling din sounds dissonant refrain,

The music of life languishes deformed,

'Til resounding of harmony again.

Through a flood of blood creation reformed,

Blossomed in new life willingly conformed,

Into express image of Heaven's Son,

When graves cracked open and the heavens stormed.

I struggle, O God, though Your Deed is done,

Your conquest oft seems unmade and undone,

And in me a filth lingers like the dark,

Of a world groaning in birth pangs begun.

Nearest to the heart Thou settest Thy mark,

Oe'r seas of death in Your bosom, our bark,

No sting, no pow'r oe'r, hath evil a claim,

Thy dawning light hath swallowéd the dark.

Let all the world call upon Thy strong name,

Let sinners come and be cleansed of their shame,

Tears of joy replace the tears of mourning,

Songs of praise ring to pronounce Thy great fame!

The night of death You broke into morning,

Satan's mockery became his scorning,

The angels rejoicing, held high their hands,

Shouting praises to Thy name, adorning.

As storms roll in heaps of threatening bands,

Gloomy darkness spreads out over the lands,

An aching wonder and the awe of dread,

No one beside Him as yet understands.

O lift up, Thou sacred, Thou wounded head!

Thou are drooping low, hung down as though dead,

Alas! Thy spirit departs with Thy breath,

All of Thy sheep have scatteréd and fled.

The heavens darken before the Christ's death,

The earth breaks open revealing its breadth,

The veil that separates dead and living,

Tears apart as Christ's pow'r extends its depth.

The death that holds Thee gives us misgiving,

We cannot see all that You are giving,

Our faces fall with the light of the sun,

Hoping that God will still be forgiving.

Heads bowed now rise to kiss the Risen Son,

His resurrection work accomplished, won,

Do grant, Thou Blessed One, Holy and True,

Resurrection pow'r 'til our work is done.