Hymn for Those Who Fast

O Jesus, Light of Bethlehem,True Son of God, Incarnate Word;Thou offspring of a Virgin's womb,Be present at our frugal board;Accept our fast, our sacrifice,And smile upon us, gracious Lord.

For by this holiest mysteryThe inward parts are cleansed from stain,And, taming all the unbridled lusts,Our sinful flesh we thus restrain,Lest gluttony and drunkennessShould choke the soul and cloud the brain.

Hence appetite and luxuryAre forced their empire to resign;The wanton sport, the jest obscene,The ignoble sway of sleep and wine,And all the plagues of languid senseFeel the strict bonds of discipline.

For if, full fed with meat and drink,The flesh thou ne'er dost mortify,The mind, that spark of sacred flame,By pleasure dulled, must fail and die,And pent in its gross prison-houseThe soul in shameful torpor lie.

So be thy carnal lusts controlled,So be thy judgment clear and bright;Then shall thy spirit, swift and free,Be gifted with a keener sight,And breathing in an ampler airTo the All-Father pray aright.

Elias by such abstinence,Seer of the desert, grew in grace,Who left the madding haunts of menAnd found a peaceful resting-place,Where, far from sinful crowds, he trodThe pure and silent wilderness.

Till by those fiery coursers drawnThe swift car bore him through the air,Lest earth's defiling touch should marThe holiness it might not share,Or some polluting breath disturbThe peace attained by fast and prayer.

Moses, through whom from His dread throneThe will of God to man was told,No food might touch till through the skyThe sun full forty times had rolled,Ere God before him stood revealed,Lord of the heavens sevenfold.

Tears were his meat, while bent in prayerThrough the long night he bowed his headE'en to the thirsty dust, that drankThe drops in bitter weeping shed;Till, at God's call, he saw the flameNo eye may bear, and was afraid.

The Baptist, too, was strong in fast--Forerunner in a later dayOf God's Eternal Son--who madeThe byepaths plain, the crooked wayA road direct, wherein His feetMight travel on without delay.

This was the messenger's great taskWho for God's advent zealouslyPrepared the way, the rough made smooth,The mountain levelled to the sea;That, when Truth came from heaven to earth,All fair and straight His path should be.

He was not born in common wise,For dry and wrinkled was the breastOf her that bare him late in years,Nor found she from her labour rest,Till she had hailed with lips inspiredThe Maid with unborn Godhead blest.

For him the hairy skins of beastsFurnished a raiment rude and wild,As forth into the lonely wasteHe fared, an unbefriended child,Who dwelt apart, lest he should beBy evil city-life defiled.

There, vowed to abstinence, he grewTo manhood, and with stern disdainHe turned from meat and drink, untilHe saw night's shadow fall again;And locusts and the wild bees' storeSufficed his vigour to sustain.

The first was he to testifyOf that new life which man might win;In Jordan's consecrating streamHe purged the stains of ancient sin,And, as he made the body clean,The radiant Spirit entered in.

Forth from the holy tide they cameReborn, from guilt's pollution free,As bright from out the cleansing fireFlows the rough gold, or as we seeThe glittering silver, purged of dross,Flash into polished purity.

Now let us tell, from Holy Writ,Of olden fasts the fairest crown;How God in pity stayed His hand,And spared a doomed and guilty town,In clemency the flames withheldAnd laid His vengeful lightnings down.

A mighty race of ancient timeWaxed arrogant in boastful pride;Debauched were they, and borne alongOn foul corruption's loathsome tide,Till in their stiff-necked self-conceitThey e'en the God of Heaven denied.

At last Eternal Mercy turnsTo righteous judgment, swift and dire;He shakes the clouds; the mighty swordFlames in His hand, and in His ireHe wields the roaring hurricane'Mid murky gloom and flashing fire.

Yet in His clemency He grantsTo penitence a brief delay,That they might burst the bonds of lustAnd put their vanities away;His sentence given, He waits awhileAnd stays the hand upraised to slay.

To warn them of the wrath to comeThe Avenger in His mercy sentJonah the seer; but,--though he knewThe threatening Judge would fain relentNor wished to strike,--towards Tarshish townThe prophet's furtive course was bent.

As up the galley's side he climbed,They loosed the dripping rope, and passedThe harbour bar: then on them burstThe sudden fury of the blast;And when their peril's cause they sought,The lot was on the recreant cast.

The man whose guilt the urn declaresAlone must die, the rest to save;Hurled headlong from the deck, he fallsAnd sinks beneath the engulfing wave,Then, seized by monstrous jaws, is plungedInto a vast and living grave.

At last the monster hurls him forth,As the third night had rolled away;Before its roar the billows breakAnd lash the cliffs with briny spray;Unhurt the wondering prophet standsAnd hails the unexpected day.

Thus turned again to duty's pathTo Nineveh he swiftly came,Their lusts rebuked and boldly preachedGod's judgment on their sin and shame;"Believe!" he cried, "the Judge draws nighWhose wrath shall wrap your streets in flame."

Thence to the lofty mount withdrew,Where he might watch the smoke-cloud lowerO'er blasted homes and ruined halls,And rest beneath the shady bowerUpspringing in swift luxuryOf twining tendril, leaf and flower.

But when the guilty burghers heardThe impending doom, a dull despairPossessed their souls; proud senators,Poor craftsmen, throng the highways fair;Pale youth with tottering age unites,And women's wailing rends the air.

A public fast they now decree,If they may thus Christ's anger stay:No food they touch: each haughty damePuts silken robes and gems away,In sable garbed, and ashes castsUpon her tresses' disarray.

In dark and squalid vesture cladThe Fathers go: the mourning crowdDons rough attire: in shaggy skinsEnwrapped, fair maids their faces shroudWith dusky veils, and boyish headsE'en to the very dust are bowed.

The King tears off his jewelled broochAnd rends the robe of Coan hue;Bright emeralds and lustrous pearlsAre flung aside, and ashes strewThe royal head, discrowned and bent,As low he kneels God's grace to sue.

None thought to drink, none thought to eat;All from the table turned aside,And in their cradles wet with tearsStarved babes in bitter anguish cried,For e'en the foster-mother sternTo little lips the breast denied.

The very flocks are closely pennedBy careful hands, lest they should gainSweet water from the babbling streamOr wandering crop the dewy plain;And bleating sheep and lowing kineWithin their barren stalls complain.

Moved by such penitence, full soonGod's grace repealed the stern decreeAnd curbed His righteous wrath; for aye,When man repents, His clemencyIs swift to pardon and to hearHis children weeping bitterly.

Yet wherefore of that bygone raceShould we anew the story tell?For Christ's pure soul by fasting longThe clogging bonds of flesh did quell;He Whom the prophet's voice foretoldAs GOD WITH US, Emmanuel.

Man's body--frail by nature's lawAnd bound by pleasure's easy chain--He freed by virtue's strong restraint,And gave it liberty again:He broke the bonds of flesh, and LustWas driven from his old domain.

Deep in the inhospitable wildFor forty days He dwelt aloneNor tasted food, till, thus prepared,All human weakness overthrownBy fasting's power, His mortal frameRejoiced the spirit's sway to own.

The Adversary, marvellingTo see this creature of a dayEndure such toil, spent all his guileTo learn if God in human clayHad come indeed; but soon rebukedBehind His back fled shamed away.

Therefore let each with all his mightFollow the way the Master taught,The law of consecrated lifeWhich Christ unto His servants brought;Till, with the lusts of flesh subdued,The spirit reigns o'er act and thought.

'Tis this our jealous foe abhors,'Tis this the Lord of earth and skyApproves; by this the soul is madeThy holy altar, God Most High:Faith stirs within the slumbering heartAnd sin's corroding power must fly.

Swifter than water quenches fire,Swifter than sunshine melts the snow,Crushed out by soul-restoring fastVanish the sins that rankly grow,If hand in hand with AbstinenceSweet Charity doth ever go.

This too is Virtue's noble task,To clothe the naked, and to feedThe destitute, with kindly careTo visit sufferers in their need;For king and beggar each must bearThe lot by changeless Fate decreed.

Happy the man whose good right handSeeks but God's praise, and flings his goldBroadcast, nor lets his left hand knowThe gracious deed; for wealth untoldShall crown him through eternal yearsWith usury an hundredfold.