DIES IRÆ. When the trumpet's blast appalling, Death's stern heart what fear surprises, To the last and great assizes! Opened are the awful pages, When the Judge shall take his station, Naught escape his stern probation. What shall I, poor wretch, be pleading? Ask what patron's interceding, When the righteous help is needing? King of majesty tremendous, Who dost free salvation send us, Save me, Source of love stupendous ! Think, O Jesus, kind and tender! Me thou sought'st with travail sorest; Righteous Judge of dread decision, Deep my guilty spirit sigheth ; 435 Thou who Mary hast acquitted, And the robber's guilt remitted, Thou e'en me hast kindly pitied. Though my prayers can naught avail me, Lest the endless fire assail me. Midst thy sheep, O Saviour, hide me; On thy right a place decide me. When thy wrath the accursed is branding, Lowly bowed in deep submission, Ah! that day so sad and tearful! A. C. KENDRICK. Dies Ira. AY of wrath, that day of burning, DA Seer and sibyl speak concerning, All the world to ashes turning! Oh, what fear shall it engender, When the Judge shall come in splendor, DIES IRE. When the trumpet's blast appalling, Death's stern heart what fear surprises, Opened are the awful pages, When the Judge shall take his station, Naught escape his stern probation. What shall I, poor wretch, be pleading? Ask what patron's interceding, When the righteous help is needing? King of majesty tremendous, Who dost free salvation send us, Save me, Source of love stupendous ! Think, O Jesus, kind and tender! Me thou sought'st with travail sorest; Righteous Judge of dread decision, Deep my guilty spirit sigheth; 435 Qui Mariam absolvisti, Et latronem exaudisti, Mihi quoque spem dedisti. Preces meæ non sunt dignæ; Inter oves locum præsta, Confutatis maledictis, Oro supplex et acclinis, Lacrymosa dies illa! THOMAS DE CELANO. Dies Ira. DAY of wrath! That day of mourning Sees our earth to ashes turning ;— Such the seer's and sibyl's warning. Ah! the dread each bosom rending, DIES IRÆÆ. When the trumpet's blast appalling, Death's stern heart what fear surprises, Opened are the awful pages, When the Judge shall take his station, Naught escape his stern probation. What shall I, poor wretch, be pleading? Ask what patron's interceding, When the righteous help is needing? King of majesty tremendous, Who dost free salvation send us, Save me, Source of love stupendous ! Think, O Jesus, kind and tender! Me thou sought'st with travail sorest; Righteous Judge of dread decision, Deep my guilty spirit sigheth; 435 |