Hymn After Fasting (Hymnus Post Ieiunium)

Newly Translated Into English Verse By R. Martin Pope is below this original.

Hymnus Post Ieiunium


Christe servorum regimen tuorum,
mollibus qui nos moderans habenis
leniter frenas facilique septos
            lege coerces:

ipse cum portans onus inpeditum
corporis duros tuleris labores,
maior exemplis famulos remisso
            dogmate palpas.

Nona submissum rotat hora solem
partibus vixdum tribus evolutis,
quarta devexo superest in axe
            portio lucis.

Nos brevis voti dape vindicata
solvimus festum fruimurque mensis
adfatim plenis, quibus inbuatur
            prona voluptas.

Tantus aeterni favor est magistri,
doctor indulgens ita nos amico
lactat hortatu, levis obsequela ut
            mulceat artus.

Addit et, ne quis velit invenusto
sordidus cultu lacerare frontem,
sed decus vultus capitisque pexum
            comat honorem.

Terge ieiunans, ait, omne corpus,
neve subducto faciem rubore
luteus tinguat color aut notetur
            pallor in ore.

Rectius laeto tegimus pudore,
quidquid ad cultum Patris exhibemus:
cernit occultum Deus et latentem
            munere donat.

Ille ovem morbo residem gregique
perditam sano male dissipantem
vellus adfixis vepribus per hirtae
            devia silvae.

Inpiger pastor revocat lupisque
gestat exclusis humeros gravatus,
inde purgatam revehens aprico
            reddit ovili:

Reddit et pratis viridique campo,
vibrat inpexis ubi nulla lappis
spina, nec germen sudibus perarmat
            carduus horrens:

Sed frequens palmis nemus et reflexa
vernat herbarum coma, tum perennis
gurgitem vivis vitreum fluentis
            laurus obumbrat.

Hisce pro donis tibi, fide pastor,
servitus quaenam poterit rependi?
nulla conpensant pretium salutis
            vota precantum.

Quamlibet spreto sine more pastu
sponte confectos tenuemus artus,
teque contemptis epulis rogemus
            nocte dieque;

Vincitur semper minor obsequentum
cura, nec munus genitoris aequat,
frangit et cratem luteam laboris
            grandior usus.

Ergo ne limum fragilem solutae
deserant vires et aquosus albis
humor in venis dominetur aegrum
            corpus inervans,

Laxus ac liber modus abstinendi
ponitur cunctis, neque nos severus
terror inpellit, sua quemque cogit
            velle potestas.

Sufficit, quidquid facias, vocato
numinis nutu prius, inchoare,
sive tu mensam renuas cibumve
            sumere temptes.

Adnuit dexter Deus et secundo
prosperat vultu, velut hoc salubre
fidimus nobis fore, quod dicatas
            carpimus escas.

Sit bonum, supplex precor et medelam
conferat membris, animumque pascat
sparsus in venas cibus obsecrantum
            christicolarum.




Hymn After Fasting


O Christ, of all Thy servants Guide,
    Mild is the yoke Thou mak'st us bear,
Leading us gently by Thy side
        With gracious care.

Thy love took up our life's hard load
    And spent in grievous toils its might:
Thy bond-slaves tread the easier road
        Led by Thy light.

Nine hours have run their course away,
    The sun sped three parts of its race:
And what remains of the short day
        Fadeth apace.

The holy fast hath reached its end;
    Our table now Thou loadest, Lord:
With all Thy gifts true gladness send
        To grace our board.

Such is our Master's gentle sway,
    So kind the teaching in His school,
That all find rest who will obey
        His easy rule.

Thou would'st not have us scorn the grace
    Of cleanliness and vesture fair:
Thou lovest not a soilèd face
        And unkempt hair.

Let him that fasts, Thou saidst, be clean,
    Nor lose health's fair and ruddy glow:
Let no wan sallowness be seen
        Upon his brow.

'Tis better in glad modesty
    Of our good works to shun display:
God sees what 'scapes our neighbour's eye
        And will repay.

That Shepherd keen seeks one lost sheep
    Sickly and weak, strayed from the fold,
Fleece torn with briers of thickets deep,
        Foolishly bold.

He drives the wolves far from the track:
    And found He brings on shoulders borne
To sunlit pen the wanderer back,
        No more forlorn:

Yea, to the meads and grassy fields
    The lamb restores, where no thorn balks,
No rough burrs tear, no thistle yields
        Its bristling stalks:

But leaves of green herbs brightly glance
    And in the grove the palm-trees dream,
And laurels shade the eddying dance
        Of crystal stream.

For all these gifts, O Shepherd dear,
    What service can I render Thee?
No grateful vows my debt shall clear
        For love so free.

Though by self-chosen fasts severe
    Our strength of limb we waste away:
Though, spurning food, we Thee revere
    By night and day:

Yet our works never can o'ertake
    Thy love or with Thy gifts compare:
Our toils this earthen vessel break,
        The more we dare.

Therefore lest failing powers consume
    Our fragile life and shrivelled veins
Pale 'neath the tyranny of rheum
        And weakening pains:

Thou dost not rule perpetual Lent
    For man, nor modest fare deny:
Fearless may each unto his bent
        His wants supply.

Enough that all our acts by prayer
    Be sanctified unto Thy will,
Whether we fast, or with due care
        Our needs fulfil.

Then shall God bless us for our good
    And lead us to our soul's true wealth;
For, if but consecrated, food
        Shall bring us health.

O Lord, grant that our feast may spread
    Marrow and strength throughout our flesh:
And may all Christly souls be fed
        With vigour fresh.