THE DOMINICAN MISSAL

in Latin and English, Revised Edition, Blackfriars Publications, Oxford, 1948


SEQUENCE FOR THE FEAST OF OUR HOLY FATHER S. FRANCIS (4th October)

 

Sanctitatis nova signa
Prodierunt lauda digna
Mira valde et benigna,
In Francisco credita.

Regulatis novi gregis
Jura dantur novae legis,
Renovantur jussa regis
Per Franciscum tradita.

Novus ordo, nova vita,
Mundo surgit inaudita,
Restauravit lex sancita
Statum evangelicum.

Legi Christi pari formae
Reformatur jus conforme,
Tenet ritus datae normae
Culmen apostolicum.

Corda rudis, vestis dura,
Cingit, tegit sine cura,
Panis datur in mensura,
Calceus abjicitur.

Paupertatem tantum quaerit,
Da terrenis nihil gerit,
Hic Franciscus cuncta terit,
Loculus despicitur.

Quaerit loca lacrymarum,
Promit voces cor amarum,
Gemit moestus tempus carum
Perditum in saeculo.

Montis antro sequestratus
Plorat, orat humi stratus
Tandem mente serenatus
Latitat ergastulo.

Ibi vacat rupe tectus,
Ad divina sursum vectus,
Spernit ima judex rectus,
Eligit caelestia.

Carnem frenat sub censura, 
Transformatam in figura:
Cibum capit de Scriptura,
Abigit terrestria.

Tunc ab alto vir hierarcha
Venit, ecce Rex monarcha,
Pavet iste patriarcha,
Visione territus.

Defert ille signa Christi,
Cicatrices confert isti,
Dum miratur corde tristi
Passionem tacitus.

Sacrum corpus consignatur,
Manu, pede vulneratur;
Dextrum latus perforatur,
Cruentatur sanguine.

Verba miscens, arcanorum
Multa clarent futurorum,
Videt sanctus vim dictorum
Mystico spiramine.

Patent statim miri clavi
Foris nigri, intus flavi:
Pungit dolor, poena gravi
Cruciant aculei.

Cessat artis armatura
In membrorum apertura:
Non impressit hos natura,
Non tortura mallei.

Signis crucis,  quae portasti,
Per quae mundum triumphasti,
Carnem, hostem superasti
Inclyta victoria.

Nos, Francisce, tueamur,
In adversis protegamur,
Ut mercede~  perfruamur
In caelesti gloria.

Pater pie, Pater sancte,
Plebs devota, te juvante,
Turba fratrum comitante,
Mereatur praemia.

Fac consortes supernorum,
Quos informas vita morum:
Consequatur grex Minorum
Sempiterna gaudia. 
Amen.  Alleluia.

New signs of highest sanctity
Deserving praise exceedingly,
Wondrous and beautiful to see
In Francis we behold.

Unto the newly-gathered band
Directed by his guiding hand,
Francis receives the king's command
The new law to unfold.

Before the world's astonished view
Arise the life and order new,
Whose sacred laws again renew
The evangelic state.

The rule monastic he reforms,
Unto the law of Christ conforms,
And all the apostolic forms
He holds inviolate.

In raiment coarse and rough-endued,
A cord his only girdle rude,
Scant the measure of his food,
His feet withal unshod.

For poverty alone he yearns,
From earthly things he loathing turns,
The noble Francis money spurns
Despising all for God.

He seeks a place to weep apart,
And mouths in bitterness of heart
Time precious lost, when taking part,
In earthly joys and vain.

Within a mountain-cavern lone
He bides to weep, and lying prone
He prays with many a sigh and groan,
Till calm returns again.

There in that rocky cave's retreat,
Rapt high in contemplation sweet,
The earth (wise judge) spurned neath his feet,
To heaven he aspires.

His flesh by penance is subdued,
Transfigured wholly and renewed:
The Scriptures are his daily food,
Renouncing earth's desires.

Then Seraph-like from heaven's height,
The King of kings appears in sight,
The patriarch, in sore affright,
Beholds the vision dread.

It bears the wounds of Christ, and lo!
While gazing on in speech-less woe,
It marks him, and the stigmas show
Upon his flesh, blood-red.

This body like the Crucified, 
Is signed on hands and feet; his side
Transfixed from right to left, and dyed
With crimson streams of blood.

Unto his mind words secret sound,
Things future all in light abound,
Inspired from high, the saint hath found
Their sense, and understood.

Now in those bleeding wounds, behold!
Black nails appear, within, all gold;
Sharp are the points, the pain untold,
Unspeakable the woe.

No instrument of man was brought
To make these wounds- here art did nought,
By nature's band they were not wrought,
Nor cruel mallet-blow.

We pray thee by the cross's sign
Marked on thy flesh, whereby twas thine,
The world, the flesh, the foe ma1ign,
To conquer gloriously.

Take us, O Francis, to thy care,
Shield us from woe, from every snare,
That we thy great reward may share,
In heaven eternally.

O Father holy! Father sweet! 
Devoutly we thine aid entreat,
May we and all thy brethren meet
Victorious in the strife.

In virtue's way our footsteps train
And bring us with the saints to reign;
So may thy flock of Minors gain
The joy of endless life.
Amen. Alleluia.


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