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Hymn After Fasting (Hymnus Post Ieiunium)

by Aurelius Clemens Prudentius

Newly Translated Into English Verse By R. Martin Pope is below this original.

Hymnus Post Ieiunium

Christe servorum regimen tuorum,

mollibus qui nos moderans habenis

leniter frenas facilique septos

lege coerces:

ipse cum portans onus inpeditum

corporis duros tuleris labores,

maior exemplis famulos remisso

dogmate palpas.

Nona submissum rotat hora solem

partibus vixdum tribus evolutis,

quarta devexo superest in axe

portio lucis.

Nos brevis voti dape vindicata

solvimus festum fruimurque mensis

adfatim plenis, quibus inbuatur

prona voluptas.

Tantus aeterni favor est magistri,

doctor indulgens ita nos amico

lactat hortatu, levis obsequela ut

mulceat artus.

Addit et, ne quis velit invenusto

sordidus cultu lacerare frontem,

sed decus vultus capitisque pexum

comat honorem.

Terge ieiunans, ait, omne corpus,

neve subducto faciem rubore

luteus tinguat color aut notetur

pallor in ore.

Rectius laeto tegimus pudore,

quidquid ad cultum Patris exhibemus:

cernit occultum Deus et latentem

munere donat.

Ille ovem morbo residem gregique

perditam sano male dissipantem

vellus adfixis vepribus per hirtae

devia silvae.

Inpiger pastor revocat lupisque

gestat exclusis humeros gravatus,

inde purgatam revehens aprico

reddit ovili:

Reddit et pratis viridique campo,

vibrat inpexis ubi nulla lappis

spina, nec germen sudibus perarmat

carduus horrens:

Sed frequens palmis nemus et reflexa

vernat herbarum coma, tum perennis

gurgitem vivis vitreum fluentis

laurus obumbrat.

Hisce pro donis tibi, fide pastor,

servitus quaenam poterit rependi?

nulla conpensant pretium salutis

vota precantum.

Quamlibet spreto sine more pastu

sponte confectos tenuemus artus,

teque contemptis epulis rogemus

nocte dieque;

Vincitur semper minor obsequentum

cura, nec munus genitoris aequat,

frangit et cratem luteam laboris

grandior usus.

Ergo ne limum fragilem solutae

deserant vires et aquosus albis

humor in venis dominetur aegrum

corpus inervans,

Laxus ac liber modus abstinendi

ponitur cunctis, neque nos severus

terror inpellit, sua quemque cogit

velle potestas.

Sufficit, quidquid facias, vocato

numinis nutu prius, inchoare,

sive tu mensam renuas cibumve

sumere temptes.

Adnuit dexter Deus et secundo

prosperat vultu, velut hoc salubre

fidimus nobis fore, quod dicatas

carpimus escas.

Sit bonum, supplex precor et medelam

conferat membris, animumque pascat

sparsus in venas cibus obsecrantum

christicolarum.

Hymn After Fasting

O Christ, of all Thy servants Guide,

Mild is the yoke Thou mak'st us bear,

Leading us gently by Thy side

With gracious care.

Thy love took up our life's hard load

And spent in grievous toils its might:

Thy bond-slaves tread the easier road

Led by Thy light.

Nine hours have run their course away,

The sun sped three parts of its race:

And what remains of the short day

Fadeth apace.

The holy fast hath reached its end;

Our table now Thou loadest, Lord:

With all Thy gifts true gladness send

To grace our board.

Such is our Master's gentle sway,

So kind the teaching in His school,

That all find rest who will obey

His easy rule.

Thou would'st not have us scorn the grace

Of cleanliness and vesture fair:

Thou lovest not a soil'd face

And unkempt hair.

Let him that fasts, Thou saidst, be clean,

Nor lose health's fair and ruddy glow:

Let no wan sallowness be seen

Upon his brow.

'Tis better in glad modesty

Of our good works to shun display:

God sees what 'scapes our neighbour's eye

And will repay.

That Shepherd keen seeks one lost sheep

Sickly and weak, strayed from the fold,

Fleece torn with briers of thickets deep,

Foolishly bold.

He drives the wolves far from the track:

And found He brings on shoulders borne

To sunlit pen the wanderer back,

No more forlorn:

Yea, to the meads and grassy fields

The lamb restores, where no thorn balks,

No rough burrs tear, no thistle yields

Its bristling stalks:

But leaves of green herbs brightly glance

And in the grove the palm-trees dream,

And laurels shade the eddying dance

Of crystal stream.

For all these gifts, O Shepherd dear,

What service can I render Thee?

No grateful vows my debt shall clear

For love so free.

Though by self-chosen fasts severe

Our strength of limb we waste away:

Though, spurning food, we Thee revere

By night and day:

Yet our works never can o'ertake

Thy love or with Thy gifts compare:

Our toils this earthen vessel break,

The more we dare.

Therefore lest failing powers consume

Our fragile life and shrivelled veins

Pale 'neath the tyranny of rheum

And weakening pains:

Thou dost not rule perpetual Lent

For man, nor modest fare deny:

Fearless may each unto his bent

His wants supply.

Enough that all our acts by prayer

Be sanctified unto Thy will,

Whether we fast, or with due care

Our needs fulfil.

Then shall God bless us for our good

And lead us to our soul's true wealth;

For, if but consecrated, food

Shall bring us health.

O Lord, grant that our feast may spread

Marrow and strength throughout our flesh:

And may all Christly souls be fed

With vigour fresh.