From Circlets Starr’d With Many A Gem

This is the original text of this hymn as it appears in Matthew Bridges’ 1852 hymnal The Passion of Jesus: A Collection of Original Pieces Corresponding with the Five Sorrowful Mysteries in the Rosary of Our Blessed Lady. It is listed under the Third Sorrowful Mystery with the title “The Crown of Thorns.”:

From circlets starr’d with many a gem
And set in rich array;
I turn me to a Diadem—
Dearer than they.

Dread Crown of Thorns! which Jesus wore,
Pledge of His dying love!
When clouds arise, and tempests roar,—
Shine from above.

Let the sharp points that pierc’d His Brow,
Transpierce this faithless breast;
That thought, and will, and wish, and vow
In Christ may rest!

Oh! Wreath of agony untold
With woe on every spine,—
The hearts of weeping sinners hold,
And soften mine.

Words: Matthew Bridges, 1852.
Tune: “Wreford” Edmund S. Carter, 1874.
Meter: 8.6.8.4

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Oh! Touch Not, Thou, That Holy Head,

This is the original text of this hymn as it appears in Matthew Bridges’ 1852 hymnal The Passion of Jesus: A Collection of Original Pieces Corresponding with the Five Sorrowful Mysteries in the Rosary of Our Blessed Lady. It is listed under the Third Sorrowful Mystery with the title “The Dream!”:

Oh! touch not, thou, that holy Head,
The wife of Pilate cried:
Full is my heart with fear and dread
As though a friend had died,—
Or was about to die,—instead:
Of some one else beside:—
Spare then that Just One,—let Him go!
The whispering spirits tell me so!

Mysterious dream! I saw a fire
All boundless in its blaze,—
Raging in red omnivorous ire,
And scorching in its rays:
It lick’d the heavens with many a spire,
Nor could I bear to gaze:
The clouds together seem’d to roll
And wither, like a parchment scroll.

Hosts upon hosts assay’d in vain
The ruthless flames to quell:
Each mountain, city, tower, and plain
Subsided in the hell:
Ten thousand sounds of woe and pain
Blended into a yell,—
Such as hath struck no mortal ear
But mine,—in this last night of fear!

The rocks were rent: the welkin rang;
When lo! as from a throne,
While souls in secret sorrow sang,
A Lamb came forth alone:—
Its look was love: It hush’d the clang
Of earth’s tremendous groan;—
Then mounting on the awful pyre,
Pierc’d its own heart,—and quench’d the fire!

And as It died,—Its closing eyes
With tears most piteous ran:
Its face beneath the frowning skies
Wax’d wonderfully wan;—
Then chang’d,—and in amazing guise
An aspect wore of man!
A Man divine,—and more than fair,
Too like the mystic Prisoner there!

Words: Matthew Bridges, 1852.
Tune: No tune seems to exist in this meter.
Meter: 8.6.8.6.8.6.8.8

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Oh! Nature Now Thy Voice In Vain

This is the original text of this hymn as it appears in Matthew Bridges’ 1852 hymnal The Passion of Jesus: A Collection of Original Pieces Corresponding with the Five Sorrowful Mysteries in the Rosary of Our Blessed Lady. It is listed under the Third Sorrowful Mystery with the title “Suffering with Christ”:

Oh! Nature now thy voice in vain
For soft indulgence pleads;
The path of penance and of pain
At once to Jesus leads.

His Spouse,—the Church, her duty knows
Nor e’er that duty fears:
She fain would follow, where He goes,—
Along this vale of tears!

To flinch,—or fail,—or faint, she scorns
In sunshine, or in showers:
If He for her was crown’d with thorns,
She will not walk on flowers!

Her children, they shall glory too
In vigils, alms, and prayers;
And trust in Him to see them through
Who all their sorrow shares.

As the sweet Bird of Beauty fair
Will wave her wings on high,
Nor deem their burden hard to bear
Which wafts her thro’ the sky:

So the meek soul will always love
That yoke by Jesus given,—
Which lifts her towards the realms above
To find her home in heaven!

Words: Matthew Bridges, 1852.
Tune: “Kenwyn” Edward John Hopkins, 1818-1901 .
Meter: 8.6.8.6

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Behold The Man! Who Wore

This is the original text of this hymn as it appears in Matthew Bridges’ 1852 hymnal The Passion of Jesus: A Collection of Original Pieces Corresponding with the Five Sorrowful Mysteries in the Rosary of Our Blessed Lady. It is listed under the Third Sorrowful Mystery with the title “Ecce Homo!”:

Behold the Man! who wore
A crown of thorns for me:
And in His sacred person bore
Our sins upon the Tree.
Our sins upon the Tree:
Thus full of honour made;
Through Him, whose love beyond degree
Our ransom paid!

Behold the Man! who gave
That matchless—peerless—price,
Which souls from death alone could save,
Himself the Sacrifice!
Himself the Sacrifice, —
Spotless,—without a stain!
No more Temptation shall entice,—
Thou Lamb once slain!

Behold the Man! who saw
From His eternal throne
The ruins of a broken law,—
Those ruins not His own!
Those ruins not His own,—
Yet as He saw, He sigh’d;
And God for sinners to atone
Came down and died!

Behold the Man! who now
Whilst angels prostrate fall,
Uplifts His everlasting Brow,—
As saints to seraphs call:
As saints to seraphs call,—
And sweep their lyres of flame,
Till the full chorus swells o’er all
With Jesu’s name!

Words: Matthew Bridges, 1852.
Tune: No tunes exist in this meter
Meter: 6.6.8.6.6.8.4

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Wave The Sweet Censer —Wave

This is the original text of this hymn as it appears in Matthew Bridges’ 1852 hymnal The Passion of Jesus: A Collection of Original Pieces Corresponding with the Five Sorrowful Mysteries in the Rosary of Our Blessed Lady. It is listed under the Third Sorrowful Mystery with the title “Incense”:

Wave the sweet censer —wave
To Him who came to save
The soul of man,—
Enduring in our stead
On His own precious Head
Sin’s dreadful ban!
Wave the sweet censer,—wave it high,
For He is here,—who deign’d to die!

Lord! let each mystic cloud
Thine Holy Altar shroud
In fragrance fair,—
By Thy supernal power
Made in this solemn hour
Pregnant with prayer:
Oh! may that prayer ascend to Thee,
Incarnate,—glorious,—Deity!

Wave the sweet censer,—wave!
For God that odour gave
Emblem of love,—
Offspring of sacred fire
In every fleecy spire, —
Mounting above,
Up to that Throne,—where seraphs burn
And downward gaze in sweet return!

Rise,—rise,—for ever rise!
Smoke of the Sacrifice,
All space inflame:—
Heaven! Heaven! with all thy Hosts!
Earth! Earth! through all thy coasts,
Worship His name:
Whose love to sinners none can toll,
Jesus! —the Word,—Emmanuel!

Words: Matthew Bridges, 1852.
Tune: No tunes exist in this meter
Meter: 6.6.4.6.6.4.8.8

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Soul Of A Sinner—Subject To A Lord

This is the original text of this hymn as it appears in Matthew Bridges’ 1852 hymnal The Passion of Jesus: A Collection of Original Pieces Corresponding with the Five Sorrowful Mysteries in the Rosary of Our Blessed Lady. It is listed under the Third Sorrowful Mystery with the title “The Crown of Thorns!” I have inserted the breaks between stanzas:

Soul of a sinner,—subject to a Lord
For thee once mock’d—and crown ‘d—and yet abhorr’d;
Come to this Coronation:—lo! the scorn
With which they weave His diadem of thorn!

Eye the vile splendour of that scarlet robe
Vesting the veil’d Creator of the globe!
Hear the rude jest,—behold the bended knee,
The mirth infernal,—and the homage see:

That Hand,—once reach ‘d to each one in his need,
Now spurn’d by all,—and sceptred with a reed:
That Brow of majesty, and might divine,
A throne of woe,—with love in every line!

Here let me linger through life’s pensive day,
Till this poor heart in tears shall melt away;
And death approach with liberation sweet
To let me fall,—and worship at His feet!

Words: Matthew Bridges, 1852.
Tune: “Erfyniad” Welsh Hymn Melody.
Meter: 10.10.10.10

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There Reigns Above—The King Of Kings

This is the original text of this hymn as it appears in Matthew Bridges’ 1852 hymnal The Passion of Jesus: A Collection of Original Pieces Corresponding with the Five Sorrowful Mysteries in the Rosary of Our Blessed Lady. It is listed under the Second Sorrowful Mystery with the title “The Silence.”:

There reigns above,—the King of Kings,
Once cloth’d for us in shame,
Whose every stripe salvation brings
To those who love His name.

In silence He those stripes endur’d,
Nor turn’d Him from the pain,
That we of murmuring might be cur’d
As followers in His train.

Why should we fear to plant our feet
Exactly where He trod?
Why is not tribulation sweet,
Which brings us near to God?

That gum, which gives the best perfume,
Is bruis’d with nicest care;
That tree, which yields the richest bloom,
The knife must never spare!

Lord! let us then in every hour
Ourselves to Thee resign,—
In storm,—or sunshine,—shade,—or shower,
Each will absorb’d in Thine.

That Pillar,—where Thy hands were bound
From pride shall set us free;
Whilst faith in every precious wound
The death of self shall see!

Words: Matthew Bridges, 1852.
Tune: “Grainger” G.F. Brockless.
Meter: 8.6.8.6

Posted in 2. The Scourging of Our Lord Jesus Christ at the Pillar, Hymns By The Greats, Jesus Christ Our Lord, Matthew Bridges, The Holy Rosary, The Passion, The Sorrowful Mysteries | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment