The Hymns of Prudentius Part 8

Draw near, Almighty Father, Ne'er seen by mortal eye; Come, O Thou Word eternal, O Spirit blest, be nigh.

One light of threefold G.o.dhead, One power that all transcends; G.o.d is of G.o.d begotten, And G.o.d from both descends.

The hour of rest approaches, The toils of day are past, And o'er our tired bodies Sleep's gentle charm is cast.

The mind, by cares tormented Amid life's storm and stress, Drinks deep the wondrous potion That brings forgetfulness.

O'er weary, toil-worn mortals The spells of Lethe steal; Sad hearts lose all their sorrow, Nor pain nor anguish feel.

For to His frail creation G.o.d gave this law to keep, That labour should be lightened By soft and healing sleep.

But while sweet languor wanders Through all the pulsing veins, And, wrapt in dewy slumber, The heart at rest remains,

The soul, in wakeful vigour, Aloft in freedom flies, And sees in many a semblance The hidden mysteries.

For, freed from care, the spirit That came from out the sky, Born of the stainless aether, Can never idle lie.

A thousand changing phantoms She fas.h.i.+ons through the night, And 'midst a world of fancy Pursues her rapid flight.

But divers are the visions That night to dreamers shows; Rare gleams of straying splendour The future may disclose;

More oft the truth is darkened, And lying fantasy Deceives the affrighted sleeper With cunning treachery.

To him whose life is holy The things that are concealed Lie open to his spirit In radiant light revealed;

But he whose heart is blackened, With many a sin imbued, Sees phantoms grim and ghastly That beckon and delude.

So in the Egyptian dungeon The patriarch of old Unto the king's two servants Their fateful visions told:

And one is brought from prison The monarch's wine to pour, One, on the gibbet hanging, Foul birds of prey devour,

He warned the king, distracted By riddles of the night, To h.o.a.rd the plenteous harvests Against the years of blight.

Soon, lord of half a kingdom, A mighty potentate, He shares the royal sceptre And dwells in princely state.

But ah! how deep the secrets The holy sleeper sees To whom Christ shows His highest, Most sacred mysteries.

For G.o.d's most faithful servant The clouds were rolled away, And John beheld the wonders That sealed from mortals lay.

The Lamb of G.o.d, encrimsoned With sacrificial stains, Alone the Book can open That destiny contains.

By His strong hand is wielded A keen, two-edged brand That, flas.h.i.+ng like the lightning, Smites swift on either hand.

Before His bar of judgment Both soul and body lie; He whom that dread sword smiteth The second death shall die.

Yet mercy tempers justice, And few the Avenger sends (Whose guilt is past all pardon) To death that never ends.

To Him the Father yieldeth The judgment-seat of Heaven; To Him a Name excelling All other names is given.

For by His strength transcendent Shall Antichrist be slain, And from that raging monster Fair trophies shall He gain:

That all-devouring Dragon, With blood of martyrs red, On whose abhorred power John's solemn curse is laid.

And thus the proud usurper Of His high name is cast By Him, the true Christ, vanquished To deepest h.e.l.l at last.

Upon the saint heroic Such wondrous slumber falls That, in the spirit roaming, He treads heaven's highest halls.

We may not, in our weakness, To dreams like these aspire, Whose souls are steeped in error And evil things desire.

Enough, if weary bodies In peaceful sleep may rest; Enough, if no dark powers Our slumbering souls molest.

Christian! the font remember, The sacramental vow, The holy water sprinkled, The oil that marked thy brow!

When at sleep's call thou seekest To rest in slumber chaste, Let first the sacred emblem On breast and brow be traced.

The Cross dispels all darkness, All sin before it flies, And by that sign protected The mind all fear defies.

Avaunt! ye fleeting phantoms That mock our midnight hours; Avaunt! thou great Deceiver With all thy guileful powers.

Thou Serpent, old and crafty, Who by a thousand arts And manifold temptations Dost vex our sleeping hearts,

Vanis.h.!.+ for Christ is with us; Away! 'tis Christ the Lord: The sign thou must acknowledge Condemns thy h.e.l.lish horde.

And, though the weary body Relaxed in sleep may be, Our hearts, Lord, e'en in slumber, Shall meditate on Thee.

VII. HYMNUS IEIUNANTIUM

O Nazarene, lux Bethlem, verb.u.m Patris, quem partus alvi virginalis protulit, adesto castis Christe parsimoniis, festumque nostrum rex serenus adspice, ieiuniorum dum litamus victimam. 5

Nil hoc profecto purius mysterio, quo fibra cordis expiatur uvidi, intemperata quo domantur viscera, arvina putrem ne resudans c.r.a.pulam obstrangulatae mentis ingenium premat. 10

Hinc subiugatur luxus et turpis gula, vini atque somni degener socordia, libido sordens, inverecundus lepos, variaeque pestes languidorum sensuum parcam subactae disciplinam sentiunt. 15

Nam si licenter diffluens potu et cibo ieiuna rite membra non coerceas, sequitur frequenti marcida oblectamine scintilla mentis ut tepescat n.o.bilis, animusque pigris stertat in praecordiis. 20

Frenentur ergo corporum cupidines, detersa et intus emicet prudentia: sic excitato perspicax ac.u.mine liberque flatu laxiore spiritus rerum parentem rectius precabitur. 25

Elia tali crevit observantia, vetus sacerdos, ruris hospes aridi: fragore ab omni quem remotum et segregem sprevisse tradunt criminum frequentiam, casto fruentem syrtium silentio. 30

Sed mox in auras igneis iugalibus curruque raptus evolavit praepete, ne de propinquo sordium contagio dirus quietum mundus adflaret virum, olim probatis inc.l.i.tum ieiuniis. 35

Non ante caeli principem septemplicis Moyses tremendi fidus interpres throni potuit videre, quam decem recursibus quater volutis sol peragrans sidera omni carentem cerneret substantia. 40