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I. . Alban, the Protomartyr of England.
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O weep not for him that hath gotten the day,
Hath a mansion of light for a cottage of clay;
Hath looked the last enemy full in the face;
Hath fought the good fight, and hath finished his race.
Hath a mansion of light for a cottage of clay;
Hath looked the last enemy full in the face;
Hath fought the good fight, and hath finished his race.
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O weep not for him that, a moment ago,
Was an heir of corruption, an exile in woe,
But now hath a garment more gloriously bright,
Than royal Constantius on festival night!
Was an heir of corruption, an exile in woe,
But now hath a garment more gloriously bright,
Than royal Constantius on festival night!
Returning in peace from the enemy's shore,
With the captives behind, and the lictors before,
When the populace shout, and the consulars bow,
He hath not the glory Albanus hath now!
With the captives behind, and the lictors before,
When the populace shout, and the consulars bow,
He hath not the glory Albanus hath now!
When the trumpet sounds pœan for victory gain'd,
And the prize is assigned by the judges ordained,
And the theatre shines in its festal array,
Would ye weep that the athlete receiveth the bay?
And the prize is assigned by the judges ordained,
And the theatre shines in its festal array,
Would ye weep that the athlete receiveth the bay?
Christ's hero confronted the enemy's rage,
With God for his judge, and the world for his stage;
The fiend and the foeman in vain would confound;
The Martyr expired, but the victor was crowned!
With God for his judge, and the world for his stage;
The fiend and the foeman in vain would confound;
The Martyr expired, but the victor was crowned!
Ye ask me where now our Albanus doth rest;
He hath found a sweet home upon Abraham's breast;
But who can conceive the full joy of his lot,
Since we can but describe it by that it is not?
He hath found a sweet home upon Abraham's breast;
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Since we can but describe it by that it is not?
No more suns that go down—no more stars that arise;
No more grief—no more pain—no more tears—no more sighs;
And, to sum its full blessedness up in one breath,
No more terror and anguish, because—no more death!
No more grief—no more pain—no more tears—no more sighs;
And, to sum its full blessedness up in one breath,
No more terror and anguish, because—no more death!
Apostles, and Martyrs, and Kings he beholds,
And Prophets, and Bishops that died for their folds;
And all that is holy, and all that is fair,
Inherits a tearless eternity there!
And Prophets, and Bishops that died for their folds;
And all that is holy, and all that is fair,
Inherits a tearless eternity there!
To its deep mountain sources the Tiber may flow;
The seven-hilled city be sacked by the foe;
The Cæsar, his name and his fame, be forgot;
But Britain's first Martyr, Albanus, shall not!
The seven-hilled city be sacked by the foe;
The Cæsar, his name and his fame, be forgot;
But Britain's first Martyr, Albanus, shall not!
See the beautiful and frequently occurring passages in S. Chrysostom's earlier homilies on the Statues, where this idea is expanded, and applied to Job, and to the Three Children.
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