Sequence 47. The Invention of the Cross

May 3RD.
TO the Cross its due laudation
Let us give ; our exultation
Is its special glory bright :
'Tis the Cross our victory sendeth,
Victory sure, that never endeth,
O'er our fierce foe in the fight.

Sweet strains ! flow ye,
Heavenward go ye !

Since for sweetest
Strains the meetest
Count we thee, sweet tree ! to be :
But let life and voice be one,
For with these in unison,
Dulcet is the symphony.

Let its servants' praise be given 1 5
To the Cross, which life in Heaven,
Joyous gift ! for them prepares :
Yea, one and all, let them its praise rehearse :
All hail ! Salvation of the universe !

Tree, that man's salvation bears !
O the blissful exaltation
Of this altar of salvation,
Reddened with the Lamb's blood spilt !

E'en the Lamb without a stain.
Who hath cleansed the world again
From the first man's sin and guilt !

Ladder this to sinners given,
By which Christ, the King of heaven,
All things to Himself hath led ;
Whose form, rightly comprehended,
Shows that its four arms, extended
Wide, o'er earth's four quarters spread.

No new mystery we mention;
'Tis not recent the invention
Of this doctrine of the Cross :
Marah's waters did it sweeten ;
And the flint, by Moses beaten
With it, did its torrents toss.

For a house no guard availeth,
O'er whose lintel a man faileth
To erect the Cross's sign :
Sword ne'er smote, nor son was lost,
In the dwelling, whose door-post
Bore aloft the mark divine.

In Sarepta, two sticks gleaning,
The poor v,'idow of attaining
Sure relief good hope did feel ;
And, without faith's sticks we use,
Nought avails the oil's small cruse,
Nor the little store of meal.

In the Scriptures,
'Neath type-pictures,
Lie these latent,
But now patent,
Benefits the Cross bestows;
Faith kings cherish;
Foemen perish ;
One crusader,
Christ his leader,
Puts to flight a thousand foes.

Rome beheld those vessels founder,
Bridging o'er the river round her.

And Maxentius with them drown :
Thracians flying, Persians dying.

Prone too was the foes' chief lying,
By Heraclius o'erthrown.

'Tis the Cross their courage waketh,
And its own victorious maketh ;
Hence disease and weakness taketh ;
Doth the powers of hell restrain ;
Freedom to the captive giveth,
And new life to all that liveth ;
Yea, in everything reviveth
Their old glory once again.

Cross ! farewell, thou tree of glory !
This world's true salvation's story !

Not a tree is there before thee
Ranked for leaf or bud or flower :
Christian medicine ! health assure thou
To the whole ; the sick man cure thou :
In thy name, so high and pure, now
Things are done which pass man's power.

Thou, from whom the Cross draws blessing !
Hear us now Thy praise confessing,
And, when this life here is ended,
Those, who on it have attended,
In the halls of true light place.

Serving Thee, should torments try us.
Grant those torments may pass by us :
When the day of wrath draws nigh us,
With eternal joys supply us
Richly of Thy bounteous grace ! Amen.