For the Resurrection of Christ. From this seed:
“O! O! Flee to the mountains!” “O sleeper? arise.” “The Lord will give peace on this mountain.”
Death-dealing wounds have covered me;
Intolerable hellish woes have surrounded me;
Fear and darkness have come upon me. O, ferocious hour!
The hour of evil!
The stiff thorn of sickness bangs into my bowels!
My soul is sorrowful,
sorrowful even toward death[’s power].
Ah, who will deliver me from this hour?
Who will make me whole again?
The swift African deer suffers this way.
It rushes to the mountains swifter than birds to drink.
But thirst burns inside, sated with a serpent soaked, drenched
And all manner of venom [spent].
I will quicken my pace in rushing to Golgotha[’s face].
There my healer lies hanging between two thieves.
Behold John sobbing at the cross [for his loss]!
He kisses the cross.
O, Jesus! My consolation!
Are you still alive here? A martyr’s elation!
In this passion give me the cure of salvation.
Do not let me ever fall.
The End.