THE WORLD'S BEST POETRY

(ff) #1

Holy Jesus, meek, forbearing,
For my sins the death-crown wearing,
Save me, in that day, despairing!


Worn and weary, thou hast sought me;
By thy cross and passion bought meβ€”
Spare the hope thy labors brought me!


Righteous Judge of retribution,
Give, O give me absolution
Ere the day of dissolution!


As a guilty culprit groaning,
Flushed my face, my errors owning,
Hear. O God, Thy suppliant moaning!


Thou to Mary gav'st remission,
Heard'st the dying thief's petition,
Bad'st me hope in my contrition.


In my prayers no worth discerning,
Yet on me Thy favor turning,
Save me from that endless burning!


Give me, when Thy sheep confiding
Thou art from the goals dividing.
On Thy right a place abiding!


When the wicked are rejected,
And by bitter flames subjected,
Call me forth with Thine elected!


Low in supplication bending.
Heart as though with ashes blending;
Cure for me when all is ending.


When on that dread day of weeping
Guilty man in ashes sleeping
Wakes to his adjudication,
Save him, God! from condemnation!


From the Latin of THOMAS Γ€ CELANO.


Translation of JOHN A. DIX. [A]

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