The Death Of Christ.

Non fur men lieti.


Not less elate than smitten with wild woe
        To see not them but Thee by death undone,
        Were those blest souls, when Thou above the sun
        Didst raise, by dying, men that lay so low:
Elate, since freedom from all ills that flow
        From their first fault for Adam's race was won;
        Sore smitten, since in torment fierce God's son
        Served servants on the cruel cross below.
Heaven showed she knew Thee, who Thou wert and whence,
        Veiling her eyes above the riven earth;
        The mountains trembled and the seas were troubled.
He took the Fathers from hell's darkness dense:
        The torments of the damnéd fiends redoubled:
        Man only joyed, who gained baptismal birth.