Sunday, 31 March 2013

The Sun Dancing

The Risen Christ as Sol Invictus, with the chariot of the Sun

Canticle of the Sun
Dancing on Easter Morning (John Heath-Stubbs)

I am the great Sun.  This hour begins
My dancing day – pirouetting in a whirl of white light
In my wide orchestral sky, a red ball bouncing
Across the eternal hills;
For now my Lord is restored: with the rising dew
He carries his own up to his glittering kingdom –
Benedicite, benedicite, benedicte omnia opera.

Look, I am one of the morning stars, shouting for joy –
And not the least honoured among those shining brothers,
O my planetary children – now that my dark daughter,
The prodigal Earth, is made an honest woman of;
Out of her gapped womb, her black and grimy tomb,
Breaks forth the Crowned, victory in his pierced hands –
Benedicite, benedicite, benedicte omnia opera.

You too, my lovers – little lark with trembling feathers,
Sing your small heart out in my streaming rays;
And you, grave narrow-browed eagle, straining your eyes
Against my wound – foretell
These fiery dales and flame-anemoned meadows
Shall be a haunt for shy contemplative spirits –
Benedicite, benedicite, benedicte omnia opera.

And now with joy I run my recurring race;
And though again I shall have to hide my face
With a hand of cloud out of the heart of schism,
Yet the time is sure when I once more shall be
A burning giant in his marriage-chamber.
A bright gold cherub, as I came from my Father’s halls –
Benedicite, benedicite, benedicte omnia opera.

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