Vexilla Regis Produent
The royal banner floats on high,
The Cross is gleaming in the sky,
The Word, by whom all flesh was made,
Himself made flesh is there displayed.
Ah! look with eyes of pity here;
See, how they pierce Him with a spear;
To cleanse our sins flows out a tide
Of blood and water from His side.
Now is fulfilled what was of old
By David's truthful verse foretold:
From His high Cross, as from a throne,
On subject realms God's Son looks down.
Thrice blest art thou, tree elect.
With royal purple richly deckt,
On whom such honour was bestowed
To bear so wonderful a load.
Upon those arms once hung sublime
The praise of every age and clime;
As in a balance thou didst weigh
Him, who from hell redeemed the prey.
Thy taste is nectar, and thy scent
Than precious oils more excellent;
Proud of the Fruit which thou dost bear,
Thou dost a look of triumph wear.
Hail! sacred altar; Victim, hail!
We celebrate the wondrous tale —
How life by death was overcome,
And life for all men sprang therefrom.
Hail! blessed Cross to which we flee
For refuge in our agony;
In pious souls, add grace to grace,
In guilty, all their guilt efface!
Venantius Fortunatus (Venantius Honorius Clementianus Fortunatus) (c. 530 – c. 600/609) Italy
Translated by Richard Massie
Source: Great hymns of the middle ages, compiled by Eveline Warner Brainerd, The Century co., 1909
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