Classic Poem

The Versicle.

Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign ,

The Responsor.

Defend us from our foes and thine.

V. Thou shalt open.
R. And my mouth.
V. O G OD make speed.
R. O L ORD make hast.
V. Glory be
R. As it was in

THE HIMN .

The Complin hour comes last, to call
Us to our own L IVE 's funerall.
Ah hartlesse task! yet hope takes head;
And lives in Him that here lyes dead.
Run, M ARY , run! Bring hither all the B LEST
A RABIA , for thy Royall Phoenix' nest;
Pour on thy noblest sweets, Which, when they touch
This sweeter B ODY , shall indeed be such.
But must thy bed, lord, be a borrow'd grave
Who lend'st to all things All the L IFE they have?
O rather use this H EART , thus farr a fitter S TONE ,
'Cause, though a hard and cold one, yet it is thine owne. Amen.

The Antiphona.

O save us then
Mercyfull K ING of men!
Since thou wouldst needs be thus
A S AVIOUR , and at such a rate, for us;
Save us, o save us, lord.
We now will own no shorter wish, nor name a narrower word.
Thy blood bids us be bold.
Thy Wounds give us fair hold.
Thy Sorrows chide our shame.
Thy Crosse, thy Nature, and thy name
Advance our claim
And cry with one accord
Save them, o save them, lord.