Sive oculos, sive ora vocem tua vulnera; certe Undique sunt ora, heu, undique sunt oculi. Ecce ora, ô nimium roseis florentia labris! Ecce oculi, saevis ah madidi lacrymis! Magdala, quae lacrymas solita es, quae basia sacro Ferre pedi, sacro de pede sume vices. Ora pedi sua sunt, tua quo tibi basia reddat: Quo reddat lacrymas scilicet est oculus.[63] _On the wounds of the crucified Lord._ Thy wounds, O Lord, are mouths and eyes-- Let not the strange words breed surprise: Where'er I look, wounds seem to speak; Where'er I look, wounds in tears break; Mouths with ruddy lips disparted, Eyes as of the broken-hearted. Thou, Mary, on His sacred feet Rainèdst thy tears and kisses sweet. Now retake thy kisses, tears; Cling thee there, there hush thy fears. See, mouths and eyes are here also; Swift they'll pay back thy loving woe. G. CIX. _Paralyticus convalescens._ Marc. ii. 1-13. Christum, quod misero facilis peccata remittit, Scribae blasphemum dicere non dubitant. Hoc scelus ut primum Paralyticus audiit: ira Impatiens, lectum sustulit atque abiit. _The paralytic healed._ The Scribes audaciously blaspheme the Lord, That He a poor man pardon'd with a word. The Paralytic hears all that they say; Indignant takes his bed, and walks away. G. CX. _Tunc sustulerunt lapides._ Joan. viii. 59. Saxa? illi? quid tam foedi voluere furores? Quid sibi de saxis hi voluere suis? Indolem, et antiqui agnosco vestigia patris: Panem de saxis hi voluere suis. _Then took they up stones._ 'They took up stones:' What meant they by such rage? What wanted they with them? Their meaning's plain: 'Tis their old father's way--O sad presage! He too took up the stones for bread amain.[64] G. CXI. _In resurrectionem Domini._ Matt. xxviii. 6. Nasceris, en, tecumque tuus, Rex auree, mundus, Tecum[65] virgineo nascitur e tumulo. Tecum in natales properat natura secundos, Atque novam vitam te novus orbis habet. Ex vita, Sol alme, tua vitam omnia sumunt: Nil certe, nisi mors, cogitur inde mori. At certe neque mors: nempe ut queat illa sepulchro, Christe, tuo condi, mors volet ipsa mori. _On the Resurrection of the Lord._ Thou'rt born, and, lo, bright King, Thy world is born, Is born with Thee from virgin tomb this morn. Hastes Nature to its second day of birth, And a new life in Thee crowns a new earth. Dear Sun, from Thy life all things draw life's breath; Nought thence is forced to die, save only Death. Nor is Death forced--since in Thy grave to lie, Death will itself, O Christ, be glad to die. R. WI. CXII. _Aliqui vero dubitabant._ Matt. xxviii. 17.