Thou alone wast counted worthy This world's Ransom to uphold; For a shipwrecked race preparing Harbor, like the Ark of old; With the sacred blood anointed From the smitten Lamb that rolled. And again: O Tree of beauty, Tree of Light! O Tree with royal purple dight! Elect on whose triumphal breast Those holy limbs should find their rest: On whose dear arms, so widely flung, The weight of this world's Ransom hung: The price of humankind to pay, And spoil the spoiler of his prey. Fortunatus' famous Passion hymn, _Pange lingua glorioso_, is also the basis for the beautiful Easter hymn: Praise the Saviour Now and ever! Praise Him all beneath the skies! Prostrate lying, Suffering, dying, On the Cross, a Sacrifice; Victory gaining, Life obtaining, Now in glory He doth rise. Another Easter hymn, "Welcome, happy morning! age to age shall say," has a triumphant ring in its flowing lines. His odes to Ascension day and Whitsunday are similar in character. That Fortunatus had a true evangelical conception of Christ and His atonement may be seen in his well-known hymn, _Lustra sex qui jam peregit_: Holy Jesus, grant us grace In Thy sacrifice to place All our trust for life renewed, Pardoned sin and promised good. A Tribute to the Dying Saviour O sacred Head, now wounded, With grief and shame weighed down, Now scornfully surrounded, With thorns Thine only crown! Once reigning in the highest In light and majesty, Dishonored now Thou diest, Yet here I worship Thee. How art Thou pale with anguish, With sore abuse and scorn! How does that visage languish, Which once was bright as morn! What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, Was all for sinners' gain; Mine, mine was the transgression, But Thine the deadly pain. Lo, here I fall, my Saviour, 'Tis I deserve Thy place: Look on me with Thy favor, Vouchsafe to me Thy grace. Receive me, my Redeemer; My Shepherd, make me Thine, Of every good the Fountain, Thou art the Spring of mine! What language shall I borrow To thank Thee, dearest Friend, For this, Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end! O make me Thine forever, And should I fainting be, Lord, let me never, never, Outlive my love to Thee. Bernard of Clairvaux (1091-1153 A.D.) THE GOLDEN AGE OF LATIN HYMNODY