Hymn Before Sleep (Hymnus Ante Somnum)

Newly Translated Into English Verse By R. Martin Pope is below this original.     Hymnus Ante Somnum             Ades Pater supreme,         quem nemo vidit unquam,         Patrisque sermo Christe,         et Spiritus benigne.             O Trinitatis huius         vis una, lumen unum,         Deus ex Deo perennis,         Deus ex utroque missus.             Fluxit labor diei,         redit et quietis hora,         blandus sopor vicissim         fessos relaxat artus.             Mens aestuans procellis         curisque sauciata         totis bibit medullis         obliviale poclum.             Serpit per omne corpus         Lethaea vis, nec ullum         miseris doloris aegri         patitur manere sensum.             Lex haec data est caducis         Deo iubente membris,         ut temperet laborem         medicabilis voluptas.             Sed dum pererrat omnes         quies amica venas,         pectusque feriatum         placat rigante somno:             Liber vagat per auras         rapido vigore sensus,         variasque per figuras,         quae sunt operta, cernit.             Quia mens soluta curis,         cui est origo caelum,         purusque fons ab aethra         iners iacere nescit.             Imitata multiformes         facies sibi ipsa fingit,         per quas repente currens         tenui fruatur actu.             Sed sensa somniantum         dispar fatigat horror,         nunc splendor intererrat         qui dat futura nosse.             Plerumque dissipatis         mendax imago veris         animos pavore maestos         ambage fallit atra.             Quem rara culpa morum         non polluit frequenter,         nunc lux serena vibrans         res edocet latentes.             At qui coinquinatum         vitiis cor inpiavit,         lusus pavore multo         species videt tremendas.             Hoc patriarcha noster         sub carceris catena         geminis simul ministris         interpres adprobavit.             Quorum reversus unus         dat poculum tyranno,         ast alterum rapaces         fixum vorant volucres.             Ipsum deinde regem         perplexa somniantem         monuit famem futuram         clausis cavere acervis.             Mox praesul ac tetrarches         regnum per omne iussus         sociam tenere virgam         dominae resedit aulae.             O quam profunda iustis         arcana per soporem         aperit tuenda Christus,         quam clara! quam tacenda!             Evangelista summi         fidissimus magistri         signata quae latebant         nebulis videt remotis:             ipsum tonantis agnum         de caede purpurantem,         qui conscium futuri         librum resignat unus.             Huius manum potentem         gladius perarmat anceps         et fulgurans utrimque         duplicem minatur ictum.             Quaesitor ille solus         animaeque corporisque         ensisque bis timendus         prima ac secunda mors est.             idem tamen benignus         ultor retundit iram         paucosque non piorum         patitur perire in aevum.             Huic inclitus perenne         tribuit Pater tribunal,         hunc obtinere iussit         nomen supra omne nomen.             Hic praepotens cruenti         extinctor antichristi,         qui de furente monstro         pulchrum refert tropaeum.             Quam bestiam capacem         populosque devorantem,         quam sanguinis charybdem         Ioannis execratur.             Haec nempe, quae sacratum         praeferre nomen ausa est,         imam petit gehennam         Christo perempta vero.             Tali sopore iustus         mentem relaxat heros,         ut spiritu sagaci         caelum peragret omne.             Nos nil meremur horum,         quos creber inplet error,         concreta quos malarum         vitiat cupido rerum.             Sat est quiete dulci         fessum fovere corpus:         sat, si nihil sinistrum         vanae minentur umbrae.             Cultor Dei memento         te fontis et lavacri         rorem subisse sanctum,         te chrismate innotatum.             Fac, cum vocante somno         castum petis cubile,         frontem locumque cordis         crucis figura signet.             Crux pellit omne crimen,         fugiunt crucem tenebrae:         tali dicata signo         mens fluctuare nescit.             Procul, o procul vagantum         portenta somniorum,         procul esto pervicaci         praestigiator astu!             O tortuose serpens,         qui mille per Maeandros         fraudesque flexuosas         agitas quieta corda,             Discede, Christus hic est,         hic Christus est, liquesce:         signum quod ipse nosti         damnat tuam catervam.             Corpus licet fatiscens         iaceat recline paullum,         Christum tamen sub ipso         meditabimur sopore.     Hymn Before Sleep         Draw near, Almighty Father,             Ne'er seen by mortal eye;         Come, O Thou Word eternal,             O Spirit blest, be nigh.         One light of threefold Godhead,             One power that all transcends;         God is of God begotten,             And God from both descends.         The hour of rest approaches,             The toils of day are past,         And o'er our tired bodies             Sleep's gentle charm is cast.         The mind, by cares tormented             Amid life's storm and stress,         Drinks deep the wondrous potion             That brings forgetfulness.         O'er weary, toil-worn mortals             The spells of Lethe steal;         Sad hearts lose all their sorrow,             Nor pain nor anguish feel.         For to His frail creation             God gave this law to keep,         That labour should be lightened             By soft and healing sleep.         But while sweet languor wanders             Through all the pulsing veins,         And, wrapt in dewy slumber,             The heart at rest remains,         The soul, in wakeful vigour,             Aloft in freedom flies,         And sees in many a semblance             The hidden mysteries.         For, freed from care, the spirit             That came from out the sky,         Born of the stainless aether,             Can never idle lie.         A thousand changing phantoms             She fashions through the night,         And 'midst a world of fancy             Pursues her rapid flight.         But divers are the visions             That night to dreamers shows;         Rare gleams of straying splendour             The future may disclose;         More oft the truth is darkened,             And lying fantasy         Deceives the affrighted sleeper             With cunning treachery.         To him whose life is holy             The things that are concealed         Lie open to his spirit             In radiant light revealed;         But he whose heart is blackened,             With many a sin imbued,         Sees phantoms grim and ghastly             That beckon and delude.         So in the Egyptian dungeon             The patriarch of old         Unto the king's two servants             Their fateful visions told:         And one is brought from prison             The monarch's wine to pour,         One, on the gibbet hanging,             Foul birds of prey devour,         He warned the king, distracted             By riddles of the night,         To hoard the plenteous harvests             Against the years of blight.         Soon, lord of half a kingdom,             A mighty potentate,         He shares the royal sceptre             And dwells in princely state.         But ah! how deep the secrets             The holy sleeper sees         To whom Christ shows His highest,             Most sacred mysteries.         For God's most faithful servant             The clouds were rolled away,         And John beheld the wonders             That sealed from mortals lay.         The Lamb of God, encrimsoned             With sacrificial stains,         Alone the Book can open             That destiny contains.         By His strong hand is wielded             A keen, two-edgd brand         That, flashing like the lightning,             Smites swift on either hand.         Before His bar of judgment             Both soul and body lie;         He whom that dread sword smiteth             The second death shall die.         Yet mercy tempers justice,             And few the Avenger sends         (Whose guilt is past all pardon)             To death that never ends.         To Him the Father yieldeth             The judgment-seat of Heaven;         To Him a Name excelling             All other names is given.         For by His strength transcendent             Shall Antichrist be slain,         And from that raging monster             Fair trophies shall He gain:         That all-devouring Dragon,             With blood of martyrs red,         On whose abhorrd power             John's solemn curse is laid.         And thus the proud usurper             Of His high name is cast         By Him, the true Christ, vanquished             To deepest hell at last.         Upon the saint heroic             Such wondrous slumber falls         That, in the spirit roaming,             He treads heaven's highest halls.         We may not, in our weakness,             To dreams like these aspire,         Whose souls are steeped in error             And evil things desire.         Enough, if weary bodies             In peaceful sleep may rest;         Enough, if no dark powers             Our slumbering souls molest.         Christian! the font remember,             The sacramental vow,         The holy water sprinkled,             The oil that marked thy brow!         When at sleep's call thou seekest             To rest in slumber chaste,         Let first the sacred emblem             On breast and brow be traced.         The Cross dispels all darkness,             All sin before it flies,         And by that sign protected             The mind all fear defies.         Avaunt! ye fleeting phantoms             That mock our midnight hours;         Avaunt! thou great Deceiver             With all thy guileful powers.         Thou Serpent, old and crafty,             Who by a thousand arts         And manifold temptations             Dost vex our sleeping hearts,         Vanish! for Christ is with us;             Away! 'tis Christ the Lord:         The sign thou must acknowledge             Condemns thy hellish horde.         And, though the weary body             Relaxed in sleep may be,         Our hearts, Lord, e'en in slumber,             Shall meditate on Thee.