Salvator Mundi

Oh! long and dark­some was the night

As slow

dull watch­es wore away

With moon and stars alone to light

A world be­wil­dered and as­tray;

While oft thick shade and mur­ky cloud

Pale moon and stars did deep en­shroud;

And na­tions looked

and hoped in vain

That ov­er earth

of guilt and sor­row

Of sin and hate

the sad do­main

Might dawn a bright and cheer­ful mor­row.

’Twas not

Eter­nal Love

that Thou

Hadst lost Thy care for mor­tal men;

No

Thou didst yearn of old

as now

To fold them to Thy heart again;

Thou didst but wait till men might know

That sin’s ripe fruits were death and woe;

Till

worn and sick of fruit­less grief

Of lust’s foul cup to loath­ing tak­en

With long­ing they might crave re­lief

Ere yet of God and hope for­sak­en.

The yearn­ing heard with trust­ing heart

E’en then

Thy words of hope and cheer;

They saw by faith the night de­part

And morn­ing break se­rene and clear.

On ho­ly pro­phets shone afar

The gleam of Ja­cob’s pro­mised star;

The ris­ing of the Lord of day

That

o’er the world His ra­di­ance throw­ing

Should chase the spec­tral night away

And mount to noon re­splen­dent show­ing.

When Thou

O Christ! of flesh wast born

To greet Thee in Thy hum­ble bed

Though earth Thy low­li­ness should scorn

Celestial bands with rap­ture sped;

At mid­night on the si­lent air

Thy birth their float­ing strains de­clare:

The shep­herds caught the thrill­ing lay

In har­mo­nies their sens­es steep­ing;

They to Thy man­ger haste away

And gaze on Thee

an in­fant sleep­ing!

While Thou didst dwell with men below

’Twas morn­ing twi­light’s ear­ly blush;

Thy light yet veiled

’twas Thine to know

Sweet child­hood’s dream

youth’s joy­ous flush;

Then man­hood’s bur­dens

care

and fears

Its toils and wea­ri­ness and tears;

Tears shed for hu­man grief and woes

Mark Thee

of all

the Man of Sor­rows:

And through Thy life the gran­deur grows

That man­hood from the God­head bor­rows!

When

all for­sak­en of Thine own

Robed in mock pur­ple Thou didst stand;

Thou wast a king—with­out a throne

A sov­er­eign Lord—with­out com­mand;

’Neath pur­ple robe and thorns con­cealed

Divinity its light re­vealed;

Upon the Ro­man’s heart it fell

Its sharp keen flash

his con­sci­ence wak­ing

And wrought in him some migh­ty spell

The pride of his strong spir­it break­ing.

When came at last Thy dark­est hour

On which the sun re­fused to look

Though hell seemed armed with con­qu’r­ing pow’r

And earth

as seized with ter­ror

shook;

Though from Thy lips the dy­ing cry

By ang­uish wrung

went up on high;

Still

’mid the dark­ness and the fear

O Son of God! Thy life re­sign­ing

Thou didst to those that saw ap­pear

The Light of men—eclipsed

yet shin­ing!

The cold

dark tomb of chi­seled rock

Thy glo­ry could not all re­press:

A mo­ment hid

with earth­quake shock

Abroad it streamed again to bless;

First an­gels caught the vi­sion bright

Then broke its beams on mor­tal sight;

The Con­quer­or of Death and Hell

Thou stoodst

Thy friends each word at­tend­ing

Till on their wist­ful eyes there fell

Splendors di­vine from Thee as­cend­ing!

For ev­er on the un­veiled throne

O Lamb di­vine! en­robed in light;

Thou life and love

and joy un­known

Dost shed while ag­es wing their flight;

The cher­ub­im be­fore Thee bow

The full­ness of the God­head Thou!

Thy un­cre­at­ed beau­ty greets

The long­ing eyes that

up­ward gaz­ing

Feast on Thy smile

which ev­er meets

Thy saints that wait be­fore Thee prais­ing.

Head ov­er all! ’tis Thine to reign;

The groan­ing earth with joy shall see

What ag­es sought

but sought in vain

The balm for all its woes in Thee;

Eyes fixed on Thee shall dry their tears

Hearts stayed on Thee shall lose their fears;

Fair in­no­cence and love shall breathe

Their frag­rant breath o’er vale and mount­ain

And faith pure al­tars shall en­wreathe

And na­tions bathe in Cal­va­ry’s fount­ain.

Crowned Lord of lords

Thy pow’r shall bring

Thy saints Thy glo­ry to par­take;

Thyself en­throned eter­nal King

Of them Thy love shall princ­es make;

And priests

that in the Ho­ly Place

Shall serve

adorned and full of grace;

The Church

Thy queen­ly bride

shall stand

In ves­ture like Thy bright­ness shin­ing

Content to clasp Thy roy­al hand

All oth­er love for Thine re­sign­ing.

O Love be­yond all mor­tal thought!

Unquenchable by flood or sea!

Love that

through death

to man hath brought

The life of im­mor­tal­ity!

Thou dost en­kin­dle Heav’n’s own fire

In hearts all dead to high de­sire.

Let love for love our souls in­flame

The per­fect love that fail­eth nev­er;

And sweet ho­san­nas to Thy name

Through Heav’n’s vast dome go up for ev­er!