Surrexit Christus Spes Mea!

A very blessed and holy Easter to you all! 

I am posting rather a long video today- the Exultet from Easter Vigil. I came across this particular recording of it last night, and fell in love with it. It is not merely that the priest has a grand voice for chanting, but because he looks so utterly joyous in it. There is almost a wide-eyed wonder to him, as he sings, that I find utterly contagious:

I came across this article recently, regarding the poem Easter Wings by Renaissance poet, George Herbert.  It is a beautiful poem of itself, made even more so by being printed like this:

Image from WikiCommons.

Easter Wings

BY GEORGE HERBERT

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, 

      Though foolishly he lost the same, 

            Decaying more and more, 

                  Till he became 

                        Most poore: 

                        With thee 

                  O let me rise 

            As larks, harmoniously, 

      And sing this day thy victories: 

Then shall the fall further the flight in me. 

My tender age in sorrow did beginne 

      And still with sicknesses and shame. 

            Thou didst so punish sinne, 

                  That I became 

                        Most thinne. 

                        With thee 

                  Let me combine, 

            And feel thy victorie: 

         For, if I imp my wing on thine, 

Affliction shall advance the flight in me. 

And lastly, I crave your indulgence to allow for the posting of a small work, from a poet of considerably less stature (of indeed, no stature at all). In short, a little thing I wrote yesterday:

MILES CHRISTUS

My Christ, in knightly Chivalry, 

In kingliness and charity,

Marks not my iniquity.

My guilt and grief, my hidden fear,

He knows, and knowing, only sees,

My brokeness and frailty,

Nor all the wounds He took from me.

The Greatheart Knight, the Paladin,

The Hero Christ, in errantry,

Rides to rescue and redeem,

My self, from selfmade slavery.

The Healer's hands are red with scars.

My Christ, with healsome sovreignty,

Binds up my wounds with comfrey,

With myrrh and with sanguinary*.

Sets all my emnity at naught,

But for erstwhile fidelity

My fickleness and peccancy,

Forgives-- and for His trust in me,

Pledged my sword and follow Him. 

And with that, I go to Mass!

*These herbs were used medicinally in the Middle Ages. Myrrh was an antiseptic. Sanguinary is another name for Yarrow, which has long been associated with the healing of wounds-- particularly of battle wounds.