A HYMN FOR THE SUNDAY WITHIN THE OCTAVE OF SACRED HEART

From Vespers of the Feast of the Sacred Heart

 

See how the haughty, savage horde

Of mankind's sins doth wound the Lord,

And pierce his Heart which, innocent,

Could ne'er deserve such punishment.

 

Unsteady was the soldier's lance,

But mankind's sins firmed its advance;

Its point was barbed by mortal sin

Which our own malice drave straight in.

 

That pierced Heart's engendering flood

Begat the Church from Christ's own blood:

Salvation's ark thus opened wide

Its door to man, set in Christ's side.

 

Unceasing grace therefrom doth flow,

And forth in seven-fold stream doth go

To wash our robes, and make them white,

In that Lamb's blood of quickening might.

 

What shame those whited robes to stain!

With sin to pierce his Heart again!

Far rather, be our hearts on fire

With love which doth his Heart inspire.

 

We give thee praise, who dost impart

Such grace, O Jesu, from thy Heart;

Whom with the Father we adore,

And Holy Ghost, for evermore.  Amen.