Latinised Hymns

Crown him with many crowns,

Crown him with many crowns,
The Lamb upon his throne;
Hark! how the heavenly anthem drowns
All music but its own:
Awake, my soul, and sing
Of him who died for thee,
And hail him as thy matchless King
Through all eternity.

Crown him the Virgin's Son,
The God incarnate born,
Whose arm those crimson trophies won
Which now his brow adorn:
Fruit of the mystic Rose,
As of that Rose the Stem;
The Root whence mercy ever flows,
The Babe of Bethlehem.

Crown him the Lord of love;
Behold his hands and side,
Those wounds yet visible above
In beauty glorified:
No angel in the sky
Can fully bear that sight,
But downward bends his burning eye
At mysteries so bright.

Crown him the Lord of peace,
Whose power a sceptre sways
From pole to pole, that wars may cease,
And all be prayer and praise:
His reign shall know no end,
And round his pierced feet
Fair flowers of Paradise extend
Their fragrance ever sweet.

Crown him the Lord of years,
The Potentate of time,
Creator of the rolling spheres,
Ineffably sublime:
All hail, Redeemer, hail!
For thou hast died for me;
Thy praise shall never, never fail
Throughout eternity.

M. Bridges

Cingite Victimam,
qui nactus est thronum.
Ut mergit omnem musicam
caeleste canticum!
Hic pro te mortuus,
cantetur, anima:
laudetur Rex egregius
per quot sunt saecula.

Cingite nunc Deum
quem Virgo genuit;
paravit ei brachium,
quae signa frons gerit:
is Fructus est Rosae,
et Stamen itidem,
est Radix is clementiae,
is Infans Bethlehem.

Cingite, cui amor
inflixit vulnera;
nunc latus et manus decor
distinguit en! supra;
quam claritudinem
vix angeli ferunt,
suamque deorsum aciem
candentem dirigunt.

Cingitor otii
Princeps polum polo
ligans, dum iuncta laus preci
pugnae stet in loco:
regnabit semper is;
punctos pedes ei
odoribus ambrosiis
perfundent flosculi.

Cingite temporis
potentem Dominum;
Creator est globorum is
supra volventium.
Ave, Redemptor, qui
es pro me mortuus.
Addetur usque laus tibi
saeclis in omnibus.