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Then these bodies dull and moldering,
Sleeping in the graves before, Shall be borne on airy pinions,
Joined unto their souls of yore.
Thus the seeds though dried and shriveled,
Dead and buried, wake again, And from 'neath the sod returning
Think of former waving grain.
Now, O earth, receive, to cherish,
In thy tender heart this dust! Man's frail form to thee I render,
And his goodly ashes trust.
This was once a spirit's dwelling,
Fashioned by the breath of God; Here from Christ, the mighty Leader,
Ardent wisdom once abode.
Shelter Thou this body laid here!
Not unmindful, He shall trace His own works who formed and framed them,
Likenesses of His own face.
Soon shall come the times of justice,
When shall God each hope transcend; And laid open thou must render
Back this form I to thee lend.
DE SANCTIS INNOCENTIBUS
Salvete, flores martyrum!
Vos, prima Christi victima, Grex immolatorum tener, Aram sub ipsam simplices Palma et coronis luditis.
Quid proficit tantum nefas; Quid crimen Herodem iuvat? Unus tot inter funera Impune Christus tollitur.
Cunae redundant sanguine; Sed in Deum frustra furit: Unum petit tot mortibus, Mortes tot unus effugit.
OF THE HOLY INNOCENTS
Hail, ye blossoms of the martyrs!
At the threshold of the light, Whom the cruel sword hath gathered,
As the rosebuds whirlwinds blight.
Ye, of Christ the earliest victims,
Tender flock so soon cut down, Simple, 'neath the very altar
Sport ye now with palm and crown.
What avails so great a horror;
What doth profit Herod's act? 'Mid so many trains funereal
Christ is borne away intact.
Reek with gore full many cradles;
Vain his rage against the Lord; One he seeks by many slaughters,
One escapes from every sword.