Keep us, O JESU, from the death

Of sin; and deign to be The everlasting Paschal joy Of all new-born in Thee.

Praise to the FATHER, and the SON,
Who from the dead arose;
Praise to the Blessed Paraclete,
While age on ages flows.

Commemoration of Martyrs.

"He that overcometh the same shall be clothed in white raiment: and I will not blot out his name out of the book of life, but I will confess his name before My FATHER, and before His angels."

161. FEAR no more for the torturer's hand

Nor the dungeon dark that bound thee;
The choirs of heaven about thee stand,
Bright shining homes surround thee.

Fear no more for the clanking chain,
Thou art free as light of Heaven;
The stripes that marked thy frame with pain,
For rays of thy crown are given.

Fear no more for stern cold, nor need,
Nor for nakedness for ever;

CHRIST's pure light doth clothe thee and feed,

And shall no more from thee sever.

Lo, He stands at His martyr's side,
Death with nobler life surrounding,

And takes him with Him to abide,
The dread tyrant's wrath confounding.

To GOD on high be honour done,
In the height all height exceeding;
TO FATHER, SON, and Holy One

From FATHER and Son proceeding.

"These are they which came out of great tribulation: and have washed their robes, and made them white in the Blood of the LAMB."

162. Of the martyrs we sing,

Whom the purple adorns ;
Who have followed their King,
In His dread Crown of Thorns.

Now their storms are all past,
And their dark sea of blood
Hath conveyed them, at last,
To their haven of good.

Though the tyrant be stern,
Yet they fear not his rod,
For their fears nought discern
But the terrors of GOD.

When fierce foemen pursue,
Their life-blood they afford,
As an offering due

To their suffering LORD.

Thus the love which remains,
Must CHRIST's Body fulfil,
Till the last drop it drains
In His cup of all ill.

He, for us Who was spent,
In His fulness complete,
Shall Himself then present,
For His FATHER made meet.

Dread JEHOVAH we sing,

In CHRIST JESUS made known;

Of all martyrs the King,

Of all martyrs the Crown.

"Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of Life."

163. How happy the mortal

Through pains and dismay,
Who hath burst the portal
To regions of day.

Where death hath benighted,
Ere life's sun went down,
The faith that he plighted,
With death he doth crown.

Our weak spirits languish

At the sound of death's feet, But thou the stern anguish Dost go forth to meet.

Yet nothing confounded

With rack and with chains Where death hath abounded With tortures and pains.

Lo! from highest heaven,
His champion to own,
Between the clouds riven,
Is CHRIST looking down.

His hand hath He holden,
Where weak nature fails;
His Spirit doth embolden,
And in him prevails.

Shall we then soft-hearted
Seek ease and repose,

And sing the departed

In death and stern woes?

Let such themes of wonder

Arouse us from sleep,

Lest, woke by death's thunder We wake but to weep.