Hymns of the Early Church / being translations from the poetry of the Latin church, arranged in the order of the Christian year

Easter

John Brownlie

FINITA JAM SUNT PRÆLIA

Of unknown date and authorship. It has not been traced further back than the Hymnodia Sacra, Munster, 1753.

I

Alleluia! Alleluia!

The din of battle now is dead,

And glory crowns the Victor’s head;

Let mirth abound,

And songs resound—Alleluia!

II

Alleluia! alleluia!

The bitter pangs of death are past,

And Christ hath vanquished hell at last;

Cheers are ringing,

Psalms are singing—Alleluia!

III

Alleluia! alleluia!

And when the morn appointed broke,

All decked with beauty Christ awoke;

O shout with glee,

Sing merrily—Alleluia!

IV

Alleluia! Alleluia!

Hell hath He closed with His own hand,

The gates of heaven wide open stand;

Let mirth abound,

And songs resound—Alleluia!

V

Alleluia! Alleluia!

’Tis Thy wounds, O Blessed Jesus—

’Tis Thy death from dying frees us,

That living, we

May sing with glee—Alleluia!

PLAUDITE, CŒLI!

A Jesuit hymn, taken by Walraff, in 1806, out of the Psalteriolum Cantiorum Catholicarum a Patribus Societati Jesu.

I

Shout praises, ye heavens,

And sigh them, soft air;

From highest to lowest,

Sing, sing everywhere;

For black clouds of tempest

Are banished from sight;

And spring, crowned with glory,

Is pouring her light.

II

Come forth with the spring-time,

Sweet flow’rets, and spread

Your rich hues around us

Where nature lay dead;

Come, violets modest,

And roses so gay,

With lilies and marigolds,

Spangle the way.

III

Flow joy song in fulness,

Flow higher and higher;

Pour forth thy sweet measures,

Thou murmuring lyre;

O sing, for He liveth,

As truly He said,

Yea, Jesus hath risen

Unharmed from the dead.

IV

Shout praises, ye mountains,

Vales catch the refrain;

Frisk gaily, ye fountains;

Hills, tell it again—

He liveth, He liveth,

As truly He said;

Yea, Jesus hath risen

Unharmed from the dead.

MORTIS PORTIS FRACTIS

By Peter of St. Maurice, sometimes styled Peter of Cluny, but best known as Peter the Venerable. Born in Auvergne, 1092 or 1094; began life as a soldier; afterwards became a Benedictine monk; elected abbot of the monastery of his order at Cluny in Burgundy; died there in 1156 or 1157. The greater part of his literary activity was given to the controversy between the Clugnian and Cistercian, or “black” and “white” monks. This Resurrection hymn is taken from “Some Rhythms, Proses, Sequences, Verses, and Hymns,” contained in the Bibliotheca Cluniacencis, 1623.

I

Burst are the iron gates of death—

A stronger power prevails;

For, by the cross, the cruel king

Before the Victor quails,

O clear the light that shines afar,

Where darkness held its sway,

For God, who made the light at first,

Restores its gladdening ray.

II

That sinners might for ever live,

The great Creator dies,

And by His death to new estate

Our souls enraptured rise.

There, Satan groaned in baffled hate,

Where Christ our triumph won—

For what to Him was deathly loss,

To man was life begun.

III

He grasps the envied prize, but fails,

And while he wounds, he dies;

But calmly, and with mighty power,

The King secures the prize;

And, leaving earth, His triumph won,

He seeks His native skies.

IV

And now triumphant o’er the grave,

The Lord to earth returns;

To new create our fallen race,

His soul with ardour burns;

Down to the dwellings of the lost,

To dwell with man He came;

And hearts in grievous bondage held,

Receive Him with acclaim.

ALLELUIA, DULCE CARMEN

Found in three MSS. of the eleventh century in the British Museum Library, and published by the Surtees Society in the “Latin Hymns of the Anglo-Saxon Church,” from a MS. of the eleventh century, in Durham Library.

I

Alleluia, hymn of sweetness,

Joyful voice of ceaseless praise;

Alleluia, pleasant anthem,

Choirs celestial sweetly raise:

This the song of those abiding

In the house of God always.

II

Alleluia, Mother Salem,

All Thy people joy in song;

Alleluia, walls and bulwarks

Evermore the notes prolong:

Ah! beside the streams of Babel,

Exiled, weep we o’er our wrong.

III

Alleluia, ’tis befitting

That our song should falter here;

Alleluia, can we sing it

When the clouds of wrath appear?

To bemoan our sin with weeping,

Now the time is drawing near.

IV

Trinity, for ever blessed!

May we sing the gladsome lay,

When from sin our souls are severed,

And the clouds have passed away,

And we share the Easter glory,

In the realms of endless day?

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