PALM SUNDAY.

Then in Christ he sleepeth sweetly,
Who his pattern kept completely,
And with Christ he reigneth meetly,
Martyr first-fruits, evermore!

PALM SUNDAY.

Ἰησοῦς ὑπὲρ τοῦ κόσμου.

JESUS, hastening for the world to suffer,
Enters in, Jerusalem, to thee:

With His Twelve He goeth forth to offer
That free Sacrifice He came to be.

They that follow Him with true affection
Stand prepared to suffer for His Name:

Be we ready, then, for man's rejection,

For the mockery, the reproach, the shame.

Now, in sorrow, sorrow finds its healing:
In the form wherein our father fell,

Christ appears, those quickening Wounds revealing,
Which shall save from sin and death and hell.

Now, Judea, call thy Priesthood nigh thee!

Now for Deicide prepare thy hands!

Lo! thy Monarch, meek and gentle, by thee!
Lo! the Lamb and Shepherd in thee stands!

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To thy Monarch, Salem, give glad greeting!
Willingly he hastens to be slain,

For the multitude His entrance meeting
With their false Hosanna's ceaseless strain.
Blest is He that comes, they cry,

On the Cross for man to die!

WHENCE SHALL MY TEARS BEGIN?

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WHENCE SHALL MY TEARS BEGIN?

Πόθεν ἄρξομαι θρηνεῖν;

WHENCE shall my tears begin?
What first-fruits shall I bear
Of earnest sorrow for my sin?
Or how my woes declare?

O Thou, the Merciful and Gracious One!
Forgive the foul transgressions I have done.

With Adam I have vied,

Yea, passed him, in my fall;
And I am naked now, by pride
And lust made bare of all;

Of Thee, O God, and that Celestial Band,
And all the glory of the Promised Land.

No earthly Eve beguiled

My body into sin:

A spiritual temptress smiled,

Concupiscence within:

Unbridled passion grasp'd the unhallow'd sweet:

Most bitter-ever bitter-was the meat.

If Adam's righteous doom,
Because he dared transgress

Thy one decree, lost Eden's bloom

And Eden's loveliness,

What recompense, O Lord, must I expect,
Who all my life Thy quickening laws neglect?

By mine own act, like Cain,

A murderer was I made :

By mine own act my soul was slain,
When Thou wast disobeyed:

And lusts each day are quickened, warring still
Against the soul with many a deed of ill.

Thou formedst me of clay,
O Heavenly Potter! Thou
In fleshly vesture didst array,

With life and breath endow.

Thou Who didst make, didst ransom, and dost know,

To Thy repentant creature pity show!

My guilt for vengeance cries;

But yet Thou pardonest all,

And whom Thou lovest Thou dost chastise,

And mourn'st for them that fall:

Thou, as a Father, mark'st our tears and pain,
And welcomest the prodigal again.

I lie before Thy door,

Oh, turn me not away!

Nor in mine old age give me o'er

To Satan for a prey!

But ere the end of life and term of grace,

Thou Merciful, my many sins efface!

A careless glance the Levite cast,

And left me to my woe:

But Thou, O Jesu, Mary's Son, console,

Draw nigh and succor me, and make me whole!

Thou Spotless Lamb divine,

Who takest sins away,

Remove far off the load that mine

Upon my conscience lay:

And, of thy tender mercy, grant Thou me
To find remission of iniquity!

ST. ANDREW OF CRETE.

THE GREAT FAST.

οὐ γὰρ Βλέπεις τοὺς ταράττοντας.

CHRISTIAN, dost thou see them
On the holy ground,
How the troops of Midian

Prowl and prowl around?
Christian, up and smite them,
Counting gain but loss:
Smite them by the merit

Of the Holy Cross !

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