ALLELUIA, DULCE CARMEN

By Peter of St. Maurice, sometimes styled Peter of Cluny, but best known as Peter the Venerable. Born in Auvergne, 1092 or 1094; began life as a soldier; afterwards became a Benedictine monk; elected abbot of the monastery of his order at Cluny in Burgundy; died there in 1156 or 1157. The greater part of his literary activity was given to the controversy between the Clugnian and Cistercian, or "black" and "white" monks. This Resurrection hymn is taken from "Some Rhythms, Proses, Sequences, Verses, and Hymns," contained in the Bibliotheca Cluniacencis, 1623.

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Burst are the iron gates of death--
A stronger power prevails;
For, by the cross, the cruel king
Before the Victor quails,
O clear the light that shines afar,
Where darkness held its sway,
For God, who made the light at first,
Restores its gladdening ray.
That sinners might for ever live,
The great Creator dies,
And by His death to new estate
Our souls enraptured rise.
There, Satan groaned in baffled hate,
Where Christ our triumph won--
For what to Him was deathly loss,
To man was life begun.
He grasps the envied prize, but fails,
And while he wounds, he dies;
But calmly, and with mighty power,
The King secures the prize;
And, leaving earth, His triumph won,
He seeks His native skies.
And now triumphant o'er the grave,
The Lord to earth returns;
To new create our fallen race,
His soul with ardour burns;
Down to the dwellings of the lost,
To dwell with man He came;
And hearts in grievous bondage held,
Receive Him with acclaim.

Found in three MSS. of the eleventh century in the British Museum Library, and published by the Surtees Society in the "Latin Hymns of the Anglo-Saxon Church," from a MS. of the eleventh century, in Durham Library.

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Alleluia, hymn of sweetness,
Joyful voice of ceaseless praise;
Alleluia, pleasant anthem,
Choirs celestial sweetly raise:
This the song of those abiding
In the house of God always.
Alleluia, Mother Salem,
All Thy people joy in song;
Alleluia, walls and bulwarks
Evermore the notes prolong:
Ah! beside the streams of Babel,
Exiled, weep we o'er our wrong.
Alleluia, 'tis befitting
That our song should falter here;
Alleluia, can we sing it
When the clouds of wrath appear?
To bemoan our sin with weeping,
Now the time is drawing near.
Trinity, for ever blessed!
May we sing the gladsome lay,
When from sin our souls are severed,
And the clouds have passed away,
And we share the Easter glory,
In the realms of endless day?