“Tearful Faith’s Extended Hand”: A Fifth-Century Hymn (6)

Sedulius is back with three more verses. Today we have three more miracles (Q, R, S): the raising of Lazarus (John 11); the healing of the woman with an issue of blood (Matthew 9); and the healing of a paralytic (Matthew 9).

As in the past, I’ve included all the previous verses as well.

A solis ortus cardine

ad usque terrae limitem

Christum canamus principem

natum Maria virgine.

Beatus auctor saeculi

servile corpus induit,

ut carne carnem liberans

non perderet quod condidit.

Clausae puellae viscera

caelestis intrat gratia;

venter puellae baiulat

secreta quae non noverat.

Domus pudici pectoris

templum repente fit Dei;

intacta nesciens virum

verbo creavit filium.

Enixa est puerpera,

quem Gabrihel praedixerat,

quem matris alvo gestiens

clausus Iohannes senserat.

Faeno iacere pertulit,

praesepe non abhorruit,

parvoque lacte pastus est,

per quem nec ales esurit.

Gaudet chorus caelestium

et angeli canunt Deum,

palamque fit pastoribus

pastor, creator omnium.

Hostis Herodis impie,

Christum venire quid times?

non eripit mortalia,

qui regna dat caelestia.

Ibant magi qua venerant

stellam sequentes praeviam;

lumen requirunt lumine,

Deum fatentur munere.

Katerva matrum personat

conlisa deflens pignora

quorum tyrannus milia

Christo sacravit victimam.

Lavacra puri gurgitis

caelestis agnus attigit;

peccata qui mundi tulit

nos abluendo sustulit.

Miraculis dedit fidem

habere se Deum patrem,

infirma sanans corpora

et suscitans cadavera.

Novum genus potentiae!

aquae rubescunt hydriae,

vinumque iussa fundere

mutavit unda originem.

Orat salutem servulo

nixus genu centurio;

credentis ardor plurimus

exstinxit ignes febrium.

Petrus per undas ambulat

Christi levatus dextera;

natura quam negaverat,

fides paravit semitam.

Quarta die iam fetidus

vitam recepit Lazarus,

mortisque liber vinculis

factus superstes est sibi.

Rivos cruoris torridi

contacta vestis obstruit;

fletu rigante supplicis

arent fluenta sanguinis.

Solutus omni corpore,

iussus repente surgere,

suis vicissim gressibus

aeger vehebat lectulum.

Afar from rising of the sun

Unto the limit of the earth,

The Christ, our prince, now let us sing–

His holy Mary-virgined birth.

Behold: the author of the world,

Though blessed, is clothed in slave’s attire,

In order flesh by flesh to free

And save his creatures from the mire.

Concealed within the maiden’s womb,

The grace of heaven enters in;

Her belly does not know it bears

The secret saving us from sin.

Domained in Mary’s modesty,

God makes a temple of her breast.

How strange! Untouched, the girl brought forth

Her Son, the Word-created guest.

Ere long her labor bore the King

Whom Gabriel had once foretold,

Whom John’s prenatal preaching had

Before proclaimed with leaping bold.

For, sleeping, he did not despise

To take the prickling straw as bed;

A mother’s milk sustained the babe

By whom the birds of heav’n are fed.

Good tidings!” chant celestial choirs

Of angels as God’s praises ring.

To shepherds now is manifest

The Shepherd who made everything.

How, Herod, can your hostile mind

Greet his arrival with dismay?

He gives eternal realms and does

Not grasp at kingdoms of a day.

Incensed conversely Magi came,

Judea’s star their mystic guide.

By light they seek the light; their gift

Declares that God with man abides.

Knave tyrant, do you hear the sound

Of mothers weeping for their dead,

The battered brood of baby boys

Whose sacrificial blood you shed?

Let down into the Jordan’s flood,

The Lamb of heaven made it pure–

The Lamb who took away our sins

With Worded water as the cure.

Miraculous deeds fathered faith

His Father was not man but God,

As sickly bodies found their strength

And corpses rose up at his nod.

New kind of power! Water jars

Suddenly blush and change their hue.

At Christ’s command, metamorphosed,

Unwatered wine the servants drew.

On bended knee, the captain begged

The Lord to grant health to his slave;

The ardent burning of belief

Snuffed out the fire the fever craved.

Pretending water was like rock

Stout Peter walked upon the sea;

Upheld by Christ’s right hand, his faith

Made paths denied naturally.

Quartered four days now, Lazarus,

A rotting corpse, recovered life,

And, freed from fetters moribund,

Survived his death and graveyard strife.

Red rivulets of ceaseless blood

Mere contact with Christ’s clothing dammed,

The sanguine flow made desiccate

By tearful faith’s extended hand.

Sold out by slack recusant limbs,

Commanded suddenly to rise,

The paralytic stood and walked,

His dormant bed borne off as prize.

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