Sequence 88. St. Catharine

LNovember 25TH.
ET our chorus' voice sonorous
Sound our Maker's praise, who for us
All things doth in place maintain :
Through whom fight th' unwarlike even,
Through whom 'tis to maidens given
Victory over men to gain.

Through whom Alexandria cowered,
By a woman's wits o'erpowered,
That no woman's strength reveal,
When St. Catharine, doctors' learning
By her doctrines' lore o'erturning,
In her patience quelled the steel.

She for purity of morals,
Added to ancestral laurels.

Gained herself a brilliant name ; 1 5
Eminent through her forefathers,
By her holy life she gathers,
Through higher grace, yet higher fame.

All her bloom of tender beauty
Reading and the toilsome duty
Of deep study wore away :
For to learning was she given,
Secular and sacred, even
In her first youth's earliest day.

She, a vessel pure, elected,
Deemed as mire to be rejected
Transitory good things here ;
All the riches of her father,
All the wealth his sires did gather,
But contemptible appear.

Full of oil her vessel being,
This wise virgin and foreseeing
Forth the bridegroom goes to meet ;
That at once, when he arriveth,
She may at the feast he giveth
Be prepared to take her seat.

She, — to die for Christ delighted ! —
When before the Emperor cited,
In his presence standing, then
With such maiden vigour speaketh,
That she mute and silent maketh
Fifty wise and learned men.

8o S. CATHARINA.
Careens horrendi claustrum,
Hunger-pangs and sore privation,
That dread frame of spike-set wheels,
Yea, whate'er man to her doeth,
She, for God's sake, undergoeth,
And 'neath all like nerve reveals.

Tortured, she the torturer cheateth.
And the Emperor defeateth,
By her woman's constancy ;
That the torturer wholly faileth.

And his torture naught availeth,
Wounds the Emperor fearfully.

Then at last, to death commended,
She, when death by death is ended,
Enters on life's joyful day.

Soon their care the angels make it
To remove her corpse, and take it
For interment far away.

From her tomb an oil there stealeth,
Which full many a sick man healeth,
Clearly by a grace divine.

Ointment rare to us she giveth,
If her prayer our souls relieveth,
As our vices' medicine.

Present with us, may she see
With like joy our joy in her,
And throughout futurity
All her present gifts confer :
Here her joy, O may we be.

And she ours in glory there I Amen.