Sequence 57. Victor

July 2ist.
HOLY band ! behold, a morning
Of full triumph is returning ;
With a holy joy rejoice ;
Heartfelt be your adoration,
And your inward exultation
Publish with uplifted voice.

Joyful can the heart be never,
Till itself from earth it sever,
Made from its contagion free :
Would'st thou live ? This world then fleeing,
Tet the love of this world's being
Hushed to sleep within thee be.

Victor in his youth's first flower,
Rather Christ's in-dwelling power
By His grace, the victory won :
O'er the world and flesh victorious,
Vanquished he man's foe all-furious,
Victor but by faith alone !

Martyr invincible ! Thy wondrous victory
Wondrously moves us to wondrous felicity;
Mother-church ! bringing forth songs of glad jubilee,
Praise in His soldier thy King's mightydeeds for thee !

Christ's brave soldier, never tired,
Scorns with wages to be hired.

As a Christian, for the strife :
He but to a crown aspireth,
Nor the usual pay desireth
To support his mortal life.

The chief Asterius
With his most impious
Comrade Eutitius,
Equally barbarous,
Treat him most cruelly :
Dragged first the streets along,
He to a rack is strung,
Then tortured as he hung ;
Unbroken still by wrong
His martyr-constancy.

Bright and tearless,
Of life careless,
Stands the fearless
Champion, peerless
Victor o'er pains untold !

In his anguish
Never languish
His mind's powers,
Neither cowers
His stout heart so brave and bold.

For that stand, his foot they sever,
But yet still the maimed stump never
From the path that Christ trod strayed :
Glad for Christ his foot he loseth,
Who for Christ his head too chooseth
Shall an offering soon be made.

Joy to lose his foot he showeth ,
Ne'er his faith 'neath torture boweth ;
E'en as mustard stronger groweth,
As the more its grains we bruise.

Fierce the torturer's fury burneth
'Gainst him, but to stupor turneth,
When he Victor's strength discerneth.

Which Christ's presence there renews.
First beneath a mill-stone shivered.

And his head then from him severed,
He from life was so delivered,
As, when death its worst endeavoured,
An immortal prize to gain.

In thy Victor's high laudation
Joy, O holy congregation !

Heart, hand, voice, with acclamation
Close this great day's jubilation
With a loud triumphant strain ! Amen.