| Gaelic lyrics | English translation |
|---|---|
| Ísucán | Jesukin Little Jesus It is little Jesus who is nursed by me in my little hermitage. Though a cleric have great wealth, it is all deceitful save Jesukin. The nursing done by me in my house is no nursing of a base churl. Jesus with heaven's inhabitants is against my heart every night. Little youthful Jesus is my lasting good: he never fails to give. …Though little Jesus be in my bosom (im ucht), he is in his mansion above. |
Labels: 9th c., celtic, christmas
¶ Thursday, December 27, 2007 0 comments
 Henry Carey (1687-1743) | Words: Attributed variously to Charlemagne, Ambrose of Milan, Gregory I, and Rhabanus Maurus (Veni Creator Spiritus, Mentes tuorum visita); translated from Latin to English by John Dryden, Miscellaneous Poems, 1693. Music: Carey’s Surrey, Henry Carey, circa 1732; harmony from The English Hymnal (London: Oxford University Press, 1906), number 491 (MIDI, score). |  John Dryden (1631-1700) |
Creator Spirit, by Whose aid
The world’s foundations first were laid,
Come, visit every pious mind;
Come, pour Thy joys on human kind;
From sin, and sorrow set us free;
And make Thy temples worthy Thee.
O Source of uncreated Light,
The Father’s promised Paraclete!
Thrice holy Fount, thrice holy Fire,
Our hearts with heav’nly love inspire;
Come, and Thy sacred unction bring
To sanctify us, while we sing!
Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
Thou strength of His almighty hand,
Whose pow’r does Heav’n and earth command:
Proceeding Spirit, our Defense,
Who dost the gift of tongues dispense,
And crown’st Thy gift with eloquence!
Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Our frailties help, our vice control;
Submit the senses to the soul;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then, lay Thy hand, and hold them down.
Create all new; our wills control,
Subdue the rebel in our soul;
Make us eternal truths receive,
And practice all that we believe;
Give us Thyself, that we may see
The Father and the Son by Thee.
Immortal honor, endless fame,
Attend th’almighty Father’s Name:
The Savior Son be glorified,
Who for lost man’s redemption died:
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to Thee.
Labels: 9th c., pentecost, rabanus maurus
¶ Friday, May 18, 2007 0 comments
Tune: Werde munter
Jesus, Name all names above,
Jesus, best and dearest;
Jesus, Fount of perfect love,
holiest, tenderest, nearest:
Jesus, Source of grace completest;
Jesus purest, Jesus sweetest;
Jesus, Well of power divine,
make me, keep me, seal me thine!
Woe that I have turned aside
after fleshly pleasure!
Woe that I have never tried
for the heavenly treasure!
Treasure, safe in homes supernal,
incorruptible, eternal;
treasure no less price hath won
than the passion of the Son!
Jesus, crowned with thorns for me,
scourged for my transgression!
Witnessing, through agony,
that thy good confession!
Jesus, clad in purple raiment,
for my evils making payment:
let not all thy woe and pain,
let not Calvary be in vain!
Jesus, open me the gate
that of old he entered
who, in that most low estate,
wholly on thee ventured;
thou, whose wounds are ever pleading
and thy passion interceding,
from my misery let me rise
to a home in paradise!
Labels: 9th c., Neale, theoctistus
¶ Tuesday, February 13, 2007 0 comments
Music: “Plaistow,” Magdalen Hymns, 1760 (MIDI, score).
O Jesu Christ, from Thee began
This healing for the soul for man,
By fasting sought, by fasting found
Through forty days of yearly round;
That he who fell from high delight,
Borne down to sensual appetite,
By dint of stern control may rise
To climb the hills of Paradise.
Therefore behold Thy Church, O Lord,
And grace of penitence accord
To all who seek with generous tears
Renewal of their wasted years.
Forgive the sin that we have done,
Forgive the course that we have run,
And show henceforth in evil day
Thyself our succor and our stay.
But now let every heart prepare,
By sacrifice of fast and prayer,
To keep with joy magnifical
The solemn Easter festival.
Father and Son and Spirit blest,
To Thee be every prayer addrest,
Who art in threefold Name adored,
From age to age, the only Lord. ¶ Thursday, March 02, 2006 0 comments
A song of thanks and praise!
The horn of our salvation
Hath GOD vouchsafed to raise!
A monarch true and faithful,
And glorious in her might,
To champion CHRIST’s own quarrel,
And Orthodoxy’s right!
Now manifest is glory;
Now grace and virtue shine:
Now joys the Church regaining
Her ornaments divine:
And girds them on in gladness,
As fits a festal day,
After long months of struggle,
Long years of disarray.
Now cries the blood for vengeance,
By persecutors poured,
Of them that died defending
The likeness of the LORD:
The likeness as a mortal
That He vouchsafed to take
Long years ago, in Bethlem,
Incarnate for our sake.
Awake, O Church, and triumph
Exult, each realm and land!
And open let the houses,
The ascetic houses stand!
And let the holy virgins
With joy and song take in
Their relics and their Icons,
Who died this day to win!
Assemble ye together
So joyous and so bold,
The ascetic troops, and pen them
Once more within the fold!
If strength again he gather, [19]
Again the foe shall fall:
If counsel he shall counsel,
Our GOD shall scatter all.
The LORD, the LORD hath triumphed:
Let all the world rejoice!
Hushed is the turmoil, silent
His servants’ tearful voice:
And the One Faith, the True Faith,
Goes forth from East to West,
Enfolding, in its beauty,
The earth as with a vest.
They rise, the sleepless watchmen
Upon the Church’s wall;
With yearning supplication
On GOD the LORD they call:
And He, though long time silent,
Bowed down a gracious ear,
His people’s earnest crying
And long complaint to hear.
Sing, sing for joy, each desert!
Exult, each realm of earth!
Ye mountains, drop down sweetness!
Ye hillocks, leap for mirth!
For CHRIST the WORD, bestowing
His blessed peace on men,
In Faith’s most holy union
Hath knit His Church again.
The GOD of vengeance rises:
And CHRIST attacks the foe,
And makes His servants mighty
The wicked to o’erthrow.
And now Thy condescension
In boldness may we hymn,
And now in peace and safety
Thy sacred Image limn.
O LORD of loving kindness,
How wondrous are Thy ways!
What tongue of man suffices
Thy gentleness to praise?
Because of Thy dear Image
Men dared Thy Saints to kill,
Yet didst Thou not consume them,
But bear’st their insults still.
Thou Who has fixed unshaken
Thy Church’s mighty frame,
So that hell-gates shall never
Prevail against the same;—
Bestow upon Thy people
Thy peace, that we may bring
One voice, one hymn, one spirit,
To glorify our King!
Labels: 9th c., Theodore of Studium
¶ Thursday, March 02, 2006 0 comments