Hymn for Passion-Sunday, and Palm-Sunday
Vexilla regis prodeunt,
Behold the royal ensigns fly,
Fulget crucis mysterium:
Bearing the cross’ mystery:
Quâ vita mortem protulit,
Where life itself did death endure,
Et morte vitam protulit.
And by that death did life procure.
Quæ vulnerata lanceæ
A cruel spear let out a flood
Mucrone diro, criminum
Of water, mixed with saving blood:
Ut nos lavaret fordibus,
Which, gushing from the Saviour’s side,
Manavit undâ et sanguine.
Drown’d our offences in the tide.
Impleta sunt quæ concinit,
The mystery we now unfold,
David fideli carmine,
Which David’s faithful verse foretold.
Dicendo nationibus:
Of our Lord’s kingdom; whilst we see
Regnavit â ligno Deus.
God ruling nations from a tree.
Arbor decora et fulgida,
O lovely tree, whose branches wore
Ornata regis purpura!
The royal purple of his gore!
Electa digno stipite,
How glorious does thy body shine?
Tam sancta membra tangere!
Supporting members so divine!
Beata, cujus brachiis,
The world’s blest balance thou wast made,
Pretiùm pependit sæculi,
Thy happy beam its purchase weigh’d,
Statera facta corporis,
And bore his limbs, who snatch’d away
Tulitque prædam tartari.
Devouring hell’s expected prey.
O Crux, ave spes unica,
Hail Cross, our hope! on thee we call,
Hoc passionis tempore!
Who keep this mournful festival:
Piis ad auge gratiam,
Grant to the just increase of grace,
Reisque dele crimina.
And ev’ry sinner’s crimes efface.
Te, fons salutis Trinitas, Collaudit omnis spiritus.
Blest Trinity, we praises sing
To thee, from whom all graces spring,
Quibus crucis victoriam,
Celestial crowns on those bestow,
Largiris, adde præmium. Amen.
Who conquer by the cross below. Amen.
V. Eripe me, Domine, ab homine malo.
V. Deliver me, O Lord, from the wicked man.
R. A viro iniquo eripe me.
R. And from the unjust man deliver me.