POETRY.
[NoTE.—The original of this hymn is by S. Bernard of Clair- vaux. I have attempted to preserve something of its rhymes and rhythm. Regarding the rhythm, I may mention here that the late Rev. Hugh Pearson, Canon of Windsor, once told me that Lord Tennyson had remarked to him upon the peculiar impressive- ness of the change from trochaic to iambic measure in the fifth and tenth lines of each stanza. Paul Gerhard based his German hymn, " 0 Haupt roll Blut and Wunden" (part of which was sung at the funeral of Kaiser Wilhelm), on the Latin ; and this German version has been followed with more or less exactness by English translators. But S. Bernard's metrical system has not hitherto, so far as I am aware, been imitated in any transcript from the original.—J. A. S.]
Crowned with thorns for pain and scorning; Mocked and bleeding, broken, wounded, Spat upon, by foes surrounded ; Bruised with the rod's indignity !
Hail to Thee, from whose resplendent Face bath fled the light transcendent !
Lo, thy splendour paling, pining ! Thou, before whose awful shining Heaven's cohorts quake and bow the knee ! All thy strength, thy bloom, have faded : Who bath thus thy state degraded ? Death upon thy brow is written; See the wan, worn limbs, the smitten Breast hanging on the cruel tree ! Thus despised, thus desecrated, Thus in dying desolated, Slain for me of sinners vilest, Loving Lord, on me thou smllest ; Shine forth, bright face, and strengthen me !
In thy passion do not scorn me, Gentle Shepherd, who halt borne me ; From whose mouth I drank the healing Draught of milk and honey, stealing Far sweeter than all sweets that be!
I have sinned; yet do not spurn me ! From thy side Thou shalt not turn me !
While death's shades are round Thee closing, Lean upon my breast, reposing Here in my arms, thy head on me ! Oh, to share with Thee the anguish Of thy cross, with Thee to languish, In thy sacred wounds to hide me ! From thy cross do not divide me !
Down at its foot I'll die with Thee !
To thy bitter death and tender, Dearest Lord, these thanks I render ; Jesu, mild and piteous, hear me, Hear thy servant's prayer, be near me, Lest death without Thee fall on me !
When the word goes forth for dying, Listen to my lonely crying : In death's dreadful hour delay not; Jean, come, be swift and stay not; Protect me, save, and set me free !
When by Thee my soul is bidden, Let not then thy face be hidden !
Lover, whom 'tis life to cherish, Shine, and leave me not to perish!
Bend from thy cross and succour me !
JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS.
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